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“Forgive Atlas. He mostly just means it as a gesture of goodwill,” Zachary spoke up. “He wants the pack to know they can trust you.”
“We’re having a pack dinner this week,” Atlas said. “Be good if you could attend. You could get a better sense of what we’re about.”
Something in Atlas’s voice hinted of desperation. He was a man of many mixed signals. From the way he looked at her, the way he spoke to her, and the way he carried himself, Harlow felt like he cared about her as much as Vincent “supposedly” did.
But his words presented a different story. She fully understood he was the pack alpha, and that if there were any threat to the pack’s safety, scoping it out in every way possible was his first priority.
He was so insistent, though, and something to the urgency in his words ran deeper than concern for his home and his people. Harlow couldn’t put her finger on it, but it was definitely there.
She looked between the three of them, sizing their intents up as best as she could. They were very hard to read, but also very attractive.
“Okay.” Harlow sighed. “I’ll check it out.”
She felt a slight break in the tension in the air, but she could tell they weren’t done. She tensed, fearing how far they were going to press to get the truth. Was she ready to face it?
With Atlas, it didn’t seem like she had a choice.
Chapter 8
Colt
Colt had been lost in the strands of her hair, following every bead of sunlight that ran over the radiant redness, every curl that tangled itself on the way down to her feminine shoulders. Her eyes shone every conceivable shade of green, brown, and yellow, hinting somewhere secretly at the primal wolf that inhabited her.
He was captivated by every flaw in her makeup, every freckle on her cheek. He could hear her heart beating, and its rhythm enraptured him. He could sense her trepidation in the way her pupils dilated and in the way her muscles tensed.
He knew Atlas could sense all these elements, too. He could feel Harlow’s fear, if he chose. Anybody could. Thus it frustrated Colt that in spite of all of the sensations Atlas must have felt, he just kept pushing.
He’d always been a man of planning and action, not one of sentimentality, love, and observation. Colt loved Atlas like a brother, but for as long as he could remember, Atlas had been a man possessed by anxiety, prepared for every worst-case scenario.
And although Colt was certain that ever-present fear had kept the Gravecrest pack safe through the years, how many opportunities had they missed out on because Atlas was too paralyzed or obsessed to pursue them? How many potential new members had been scared away because of Atlas’s suspicious, unwavering eyes?
Atlas delicately sniffed the nape of Harlow’s neck, moving in to inspect her. Colt felt a primal sense of jealousy take hold of him for a moment before shrugging it away. He could sense Harlow’s arousal in the way her heart fluttered and in the serotonin coursing through her, but it was marred by her fear and discomfort. She wasn’t used to this kind of treatment.
“Can I ask the context?” Atlas had questioned her. He wanted an explanation for why or how her pack had abandoned her. He wanted her to hand over every piece of information she possessed, to know her inside and out in a mere moment.
But that wasn’t how people worked. You couldn’t walk into somebody’s private quarters and immediately begin interrogating them. The civilized world had boundaries.
“Dude,” Colt interjected. “She just got kicked out of her pack. The last thing she wants is to bare her soul to us.”
“Excuse us,” Zachary said and then motioned something to Atlas. It was a call for a timeout. It signaled the urgency of altering the terms of discussion. Colt looked to Atlas, pleading. Colt was grateful that this time, Zachary had taken over his role. Today, Zachary was the diplomat.
“Okay yeah, I can let you guys back in whenever!” Harlow called out. They were already outside the door.
A light drizzle had resumed outside. The streets were thankfully quiet. Colt could hear the gentle hum of air conditioning units on Main Street, fans and motors spinning erratically.
“What’s wrong?” Atlas asked, his back and posture stiff and face expressionless. He had always been harder to read, even after all this time. For all his anxiety, he was very good at masking his thoughts.
“You’re scaring her, man,” Colt said.
Zachary stood back and watched, content to intervene as necessary. He kept his eyes aloft, watching the streets.
“I didn’t get that sense at all,” Atlas replied.
“When you get back in there, listen to her. Observe her heartbeat. She might be excited by all this, but inside, she’s also terrified.”
“What would you have me do?” Atlas shrugged. “She’s from another pack. If she leads them to us, we—”
“We deal with that,” Zachary interrupted. “Like always.”
