“Yes, alpha.”

  Receding footsteps proved they’d obeyed him, but the reek of barely repressed fury continued roiling off the man in front of me. I understood why when one of his fists eased open and he reached up to almost, but not quite, touch my wound.

  “I’m fine,” I reassured him. “I’ll shift and it’ll fade to almost nothing.”

  “Then we can celebrate.” A werewolf who’d always given me the cold shoulder in the past strode up to clap me on the back. “Meet up at the bar?”

  Jubilation was already breaking out among Thom’s pack mates. We hadn’t precisely won, but my sneak attack had apparently given them a reason to howl and frolic. Not that, with werewolves, it took much to reach that point.

  Their alpha, however, wasn’t ready to embrace the relief of a battle ended with no major injuries. “First-aid kit,” he demanded and someone handed over a red box with a white cross on top. “Water bottle?” Half a dozen shifters offered what he’d requested.

  So I knew what was coming before Thom warned: “This will sting.”

  Water slapped my wound, cold and painful. It made sense to irrigate out as much dirt as possible, but I still yelped despite myself.

  And Thom swore, flinging the borrowed water bottle at a tree trunk where it struck with a rather unsatisfying crackle. Despite the complete lack of damage to anything other than disposable plastic, I winced. Rage was out of character for this man who usually took gentleness to extremes.

  “Thom,” I started. But his body had turned away from me, toward Reed territory. His alpha scent had turned dark and dangerous.

  Tit for tat. Anything Thom did now would blow back on the pack later.

  “Thom,” I repeated, grabbing his wrist. “Cool it.”

  Around us, the sounds of celebration ceased. But I ignored watchful eyes, focusing only on the man in front of me. The man who was still facing a forest darkening by the second, just like our future if he gave in to simmering rage.

  “This is what it means to be a werewolf,” I reminded him, keeping my voice as low as possible. “Blood and wounds but also pack and responsibilities.”

  It wasn’t wise to school an alpha in public, but I didn’t think Thom would care. Still, he didn’t answer for one long moment. Didn’t turn back to face me for far too long.

  Then, finally, he did. His breath teased the hair off my forehead as he murmured so low only the closest few shifters could hear him. “You’re not, though, are you? Not a werewolf. Not pack.”

  So that’s what this was about. Not just my wound but the fact I hadn’t accepted the pack bond even when I appeared to be in mortal danger.

  A wind picked up, blowing through the trees with all the ice of January. “No,” I admitted. “No, I’m not.”

  I HADN’T WANTED TO lie, but I fully expected my words to make matters worse. They didn’t. Instead, Thom’s shoulders relaxed as he opened the first-aid kit. “Can you handle an alcohol pad?” he asked.

  I nodded. Then his huge left hand was cupping my face, thumb beneath my chin and warm fingers sliding up into my hairline. I shivered, but not from pain this time. I had a crazy urge to lean into this single point of contact, as if a hand on my cheek could hold my entire body up.

  It couldn’t, of course, and I didn’t ask it to. But I did focus on seizing every bit of pleasure while Thom ripped open a sterile packet then dabbed unbearably gently at the wound on the side of my face. The disinfection hurt, but not enough to overcome the warmth suffusing me. Not enough to make me jerk away from his skin touching my skin.

  “All done.” Despite his words, Thom didn’t release me. True night was falling and I could no longer make out the blue of his eyes. Instead, they’d turned dark and deep, pits I could fall into and lose all sense of reality. I wanted nothing more than to fall.

  “Shift,” he murmured, thumb stroking my cheekbone, “and we’ll drop you off at Charlie’s.”

  That woke me back up. Despite spending many hours together this week, Thom and I hadn’t really gotten much time to talk. We’d been furry for most of it. And, when we weren’t furry, he was managing the Full Moon Saloon.

  “I’m not staying at Charlie’s,” I admitted. “Dixie Lee lent me her guest room.”

  Thom’s eyebrows rose as his hand fell away. “Dixie Lee? Helps me run the bar? Has a kid? That Dixie Lee?”

  “Do you know another one?”

  Amusement curled around me like the questing pack bond had earlier. Thom’s lips twitched. “No. I just wouldn’t have thought....” Rather than finishing his sentence, he shrugged. “Alright, we’ll drop you off at Dixie Lee’s.”

  So I donned fur and rode in Thom’s lap back to Gate City. His fingers curled behind my ears, soothing me as I drifted into the half-awake state of bodily healing.

  The wound had really only been a scratch, though. Not like last time. Not enough to knock me flat on my back. So after a shower, I headed to the bar. The pack would be celebrating tonight and I wanted to celebrate with them.

  “They’re in the Moon Room,” Dixie Lee observed when I strode into the dim, throbbing interior. It was Friday night and the place was packed. No wonder she thrust a tray overloaded with drinks into my hands. “Take this in and save me a minute.”

  Through the next door, I found a situation like yet unlike that within the bar proper. Most of the shifters who called Gate City home seemed to be present, but the lack of authority figures—Thom, Bertrand, Hank—gave the room an air of wildness. Still, Dixie Lee must have thought things were under control because Ava was parked in one corner. Her library book was open, but the girl’s eyes sparkled as she watched the celebrating werewolves over the top of an ice-cream float.

  I offered the girl a smile then scanned for danger as the timbre of chatter shifted like a moody wind. The only change I could see was Hank’s kid brother ambling in from the parking-lot entrance, his litheness making him appear positively skinny beside all of the burly werewolves. The youngster had to be barely old enough to shift if you measured age by his complete lack of facial hair. But the adult werewolves included him...in a manner of speaking.

  “Kid!” The shifter who’d snuck in the back of a human’s house earlier in the week greeted the boy with a hearty back thump. The youngster stumbled and would have fallen if the backslapper hadn’t grabbed his collar to keep him upright. Then, taking one exaggerated sniff, the older man bellowed: “Kid! You stink!”

  Alcohol colored the crowd’s responses. “Kid needs a shower!” someone else suggested. Three other shifters roared approval.

  From the other side of the room and with the crowd closing ranks, I couldn’t see who was involved now. Could only hear the youngster’s fear when he squeaked: “No, that won’t be necessary.”

  Unfortunately, his words were lost in the cascade of drunken shouting. “Shower, shower, shower!”

  Shifters twice his size were dragging the kid toward the Moon Room’s bathroom and he was trying so hard to wriggle free that I heard the distinct sound of a collar rip. “Please, stop!” The boy’s shriek gritted against my teeth.

  Okay, this had passed straight out of friendly ribbing and into uncool hazing. I eyed the tray of drinks Dixie Lee had given me, decided it was more of an impediment than an asset, and dropped it on the closest flat surface before spinning...right into a werewolf’s unyielding chest.

  “Not your problem.” Tall, bald, and one of the shifters who’d muttered loudest about how crazy it was to let a kitsune stay in Gate City. This was the worst person I could have run into right at the present moment.

  Still, I was faster than any over-muscled werewolf. Or I should have been.

  I tried to dart around the wall of werewolf, but the energy I’d used up healing the wound on my cheek into a thread-thin scar caught up with me. The werewolf’s hand latched onto my shoulder even as the door to the bathroom slammed into the Moon Room wall.

  Chapter 24

  The gush of running water and the hoots of werewolves swirled around me as I considered a knife at the neck or a knee to the groin. Both were beyond the pale in a non-lethal fight against a semi-friendly pack mate.

  But the scent of the kid’s fear was so strong it scratched against the inside of my nostrils. And, after all, I wasn’t really pack....

  To everyone’s surprise, Ava was the one who put a halt to the hazing. Her laughter started quietly then trilled higher and louder. The shower didn’t stop, but the hooting did.

  “What’s the joke?” someone called. From the way his voice was no longer muffled by intervening walls, it was clear he—and maybe others—had reemerged from the bathroom.

  “You are.” Ava’s voice was choked with barely repressed laughter. “You, who I saw rolling in rabbit poop last week, are making fun of someone else’s body odor?”

  “Well....”

  Rather than letting him make the point that wolves roll in shit for several very functional reasons, Ava moved on. “And you.” I presumed she was pointing at another werewolf, not that I could see around baldie, who’d swiveled to watch but hadn’t let go of me in the process. “You ate opossum guts last fall. In public. That’s pretty disgusting if you ask me.”

  Sheepish scents proved Ava was onto something. If she really was able to shame this pack into letting Hank’s kid brother go, I’d beg Mai to dig deeper into kitsune history to figure out if there was any chance of the offspring of a human shifting. Never mind that Dixie Lee wanted nothing more than for her daughter to grow up with her shifter blood tamped down out of sight.

  The overall mood of the crowd, though, was undecided. Ava was, after all, just a thirteen-year-old who might smell slightly of fox on occasion. And these were not only werewolves but the rough-and-tumble sort who’d lived outside packs for months or years before washing up on Thom’s doorstep.

  Ava clearly needed backup. So, as soon as the bald shifter’s hold on my shoulder loosened, I wrenched myself free and headed in the kid’s direction. Not that I needed to. It turned out Thom had gotten there first.

  He must have felt something going on through the pack bond. That’s the only explanation I could give for him showing up in the nick of time. Whatever the reason, his presence now resolved the room’s mishmash of conflicting odors into instant attention.

  “Let the kid go,” he commanded, pressing alpha bite into the few short syllables. “And head home. We’ve all been invited to a wake tomorrow. I expect you to show up in suits and on your best behavior.” Then, turning to the kid, he offered one final order: “You will come smelling of soap.”

  THE REASON ITO HAD invited us to his brother’s memorial service became clear the following morning when I pulled into the driveway of the burnt-out house. Most obviously, the ashy ruins were within Thom’s territory and no one even shifter-adjacent would be wise to enter without his permission. Add to that the fact that the funeral party—minus shanghaied werewolves—was tiny. Just Ito and Jessie, as far as I could tell.

  Which meant the lack of social graces of our contingent turned the entire event awkward. Ties and collars were loosened...then retightened as Thom glared at the offending parties. Half-assed condolences were offered by shifters who had very clearly never met the deceased. And one socially inept werewolf mistook the shrine topped with Kaito’s favorite foods for a tableful of hors d’oeuvres.

  Ito’s beeline was so rapid he almost moved like a shifter. “Please don’t eat that.” Despite his mild tone, his eyes flashed.

  And rather than apologizing, the werewolf in question spit out the entire mouthful he’d already started chewing. His face wrinkled up in disgust as he clapped Ito on the shoulder. “Thanks for the warning, man. That stuff tastes like dirty feet.”

  “As opposed to clean ones. Since you’ve tasted both and have such a discerning palate.” Thom’s tone was wry as he smoothed over that faux pas. Which left me free to address a different potential powder keg.

  Because Charlie had joined us, but she wasn’t alone. Instead, another woman gracefully emerged from the passenger side of the vehicle, her skin darker than mine and her hair shaved on the sides.

  I was instantly intrigued but also wished Charlie hadn’t chosen this moment for introductions. Because Thom was a gentleman, but some of these werewolves? Well, I could see feet yearning to become acquainted with mouths.

  I’d rather be by Charlie’s side if anything untoward happened. But muddy lawn squelched beneath the dress shoes I’d donned out of respect, a recipe for moving just a little too slowly....

  Sure enough, the girlfriend was already deep in conversation by the time I was close enough to hear what was happening. She appeared to be making small talk about plant-based diets with someone who ripped the throats out of deer on a regular occasion.

  “Protein levels are essential,” she concluded.

  Rick—not one of the sharpest werewolves in the pack—frowned once, then offered what he seemed to consider a suitable rejoinder. “So you’re, like, one of those Mexicans?”

  “I think the word you’re looking for is Latina. Are you aware of how many countries there are south of the U.S. border?”

  Rick wasn’t. I could tell by the way his face screwed up in deep thought.

  But the girlfriend had already turned away with a murmured “Excuse me” while Charlie whispered in her ear. I waved as my friend’s head rose. Our eyes met...and Charlie shook her head once, fast and clear.

  No, she wasn’t going to introduce me to the new significant other. Instead, she guided her guest in the opposite direction. Toward Jessie, whose scent was so pained I could smell it out in the open where odors usually dispersed quickly.

  Which made sense. Twins before...well, anything. And, at first, it appeared that Jessie felt the same way.

  “I’m so glad you’re here, Charlie,” she murmured, tears welling up but not quite falling. “I’m so grateful....”

  Unlike her honest-smelling words, Jessie’s actions were calculated. She pushed between the two women, hugging her sister while presenting her back to the girlfriend.

  I winced and lingered, ready to ride to the rescue if Charlie wanted me to. But the truth was that my presence would likely make matters worse.

  So, after a few moments, I drifted in a different direction. Toward Ava, who looked just as pained in her prim, flounced dress as the werewolves did in their ties and dress shirts.

  “Not your idea of fun?” I asked.

  Among so many people, Ava had turned silent. She shook her head, library book hugged tighter than I’d seen her hug it for quite a while.

  So I took pity on her. “I don’t think your mom would mind if you read in the car for a while.”

  The relief on the girl’s face was enough to fuel the next hour of wishing I was also young enough to hide behind a library book. But awkwardness was manageable. Gently suggesting that it wasn’t a good idea for high-energy werewolves to turn the charred timbers of the house into a jungle gym was manageable.

  What wasn’t manageable was the way my eye caught on the waning moon, hanging half full in the sky, and my stomach dropped into my too-tight shoes.

  Suddenly, I didn’t care about werewolves unable to embrace the solemnity of the occasion. I didn’t care about new girlfriends who weren’t finding this gathering as welcoming as they’d anticipated. I didn’t care about the way Ito had taken one look at me as I advanced to present my condolences and suddenly found the remembrances of a shifter who’d once driven by the nursing home where Kaito had been maintained during his coma deeply riveting.

  Instead, all I cared about was finding Thom. Ripping his clothes off. Consummating the attraction that had been coursing between us for three long months now without a shred of resolution.

  Skin on skin. Mouth on mouth. I wasn’t waiting any longer.

  I was taking what I wanted, what I needed. Now.

  Chapter 25

  “Hey!” The shifter I’d elbowed out of my path shouted further complaints after me, but I didn’t answer. Just barreled forward, peering left and right as I searched for Thom.

  “I’d thought Ava’s father might be here.” That was Dixie Lee, who I strode past without acknowledging. Beside her, Ito’s scent was redolent with resigned pain I couldn’t care less about.

  “He returned to Japan years ago.” Ito’s words trailed after me, meaningless. Well, almost meaningless. Some tiny fragment of self latched onto them, filing the information away for later as he continued. “The kitsunes there are always glad to expand their honor guards. Being with a mistress is...addictive.”

  “I know.” Dixie Lee’s voiced faded behind me. “I’d just hoped he could resist.”

  The fragment of self wondered if perhaps this was why Ito had kept me at swords’ length back in Charlie’s backyard. If that might be why he’d been so opposed to my presence in the Raven twins’ lives back in college and was resolutely avoiding me now.

  But the moon was tugging me harder than ever. I found myself panting, my mouth hanging open as I heaved in great gulps of air, tasting, testing. Suddenly, even that fragment of self was submerged by the hunt for...wolf, wolf, wolf, but where was the alpha?

  There. He was talking to three other werewolves, not that they mattered. All that mattered was Thom’s proximity. The electricity that sparked up my spine the moment he glanced in my direction. The alpha was here and he was mine.

  “Kira.” Thom greeted me with the warm smile that always turned my stomach a little gooey. This time, though, I gasped, the indulgence of a single word sealing my tongue against the roof of my mouth.

  I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t demand what I wanted.

  Well, not with words. I was close enough to touch him though. To climb his delicious body like a tree until I was high enough to clench my legs around his hips, to rub my center against a ridge that hardened the instant I touched it. With one hand, I clung to his shoulder. With the other, I fumbled at his belt.