by Lauren Dane
His beautiful, silly witch. Who’d challenged the Patron of Mac’s pack. The Patron who also happened to be his dad.
Jace spoke again, breaking into Mac’s thoughts. “Totally between you and me, okay? I know what this feels like, at least in part. If you want to talk as friends, I’m good with that.”
“I always figured you hated Pembry.”
“After what happened to my dad, you mean?” Jace sucked in the night air, scenting for danger, making sure his mate was content and safe. Mac had done the same. “It was Dooley who disciplined him. But no one other than him was responsible for whatever happened to him. I’m smart enough to know, in any case, that a pack is more than just one or two wolves. We can manage to steer our way through this crisis, Mac. But I don’t know if your dad feels the same. No. I don’t trust him to do what’s best for the town right now. And I don’t trust him to do what’s best for wolves. I think the way he enables your brother to be a petty little asshole is lazy and dangerous.”
Mac scanned the yard and the area just beyond. “How many guards do you have out there?” he asked.
“Two. It’s overkill but Damon insisted. You?”
“I was told it would be one, but I realize it’s two. Huston and Everett.” There weren’t any others around who’d be able to hear their conversation, which made it easier to be frank.
“You have my word that you can speak freely,” Jace told him.
Though he knew what had to be done, though he’d been planning an overthrow of his own father, he still hesitated to say the words out loud to anyone outside his inner circle.
He needed to reach out to not only stop a war but also line up allies for the time to come.
“He’s been in power so long he’s forgotten how to be patient and put his ego aside while he leads. He’s losing support. He’s not providing the strength and stability the pack needs. You’re right that he isn’t putting the town first.”
The knowledge that he was going to have to challenge his father had been with him for most of his life. It had always been a one-day sort of thing.
Sometimes the handover of power from one Patron to the next was a bloody affair. Contentious. Between rivals. Mainly though, it was relatively peaceful with an adult wolf taking over from a parent or other relative in charge. Like Jace had done with his grandfather the month before. There’d been a bloodletting, but it had been a ritual, for show more than to break or humiliate the loser.
“I expect, were I in your place, that you’re shoring up your support before you make your final move?” Jace asked, his gaze still on his wife.
“I am. We’re not so different, Pembry and Dooley. Once the transition has taken place, I hope we can work together to steer the wolves and this town out of this mess.”
“You have the support of the Dooley pack when you’re ready. I know Huston and Everett are good at protecting you, but we’ve got your back if you need us.” Jace turned to Mac and they clasped forearms.
Behind them, Carl leaned out the door and called out that it was time for dessert.
Aimee dashed across the lawn and leaped into Mac’s arms, hugging him tight. “Let’s go get some pie. And stop thinking about your dad.”
He let her go and tried his best to forget about his dad and to get back in the moment with her. He’d just made an important alliance and had more strength at his back. He was all about her for the rest of the night.
They hustled into the house after taking care to knock the snow off their boots and coats for the promise of coffee and three different kinds of pie.
Chapter Fifteen
Just a few days after Christmas, out on client visits in and around town, Aimee knew the old wolf heard her approach the front door. Hell, he’d probably heard it when her car turned off the main road.
Shifters didn’t like being snuck up on, or being made to feel as if someone was trying to sneak. He was old, but he wasn’t useless. And she knew that was one of his hot buttons. So she let her heels make plenty of sound as she climbed the porch steps.
She rapped on the wood of his screen door and called out, “Hey there, Mr. Pembry! It’s Aimee Benton. I was out this way and thought I’d stop in to see if you wanted any of this extra salve I’ve got.”
If she’d said he needed it, he’d have rejected the help. Even though he did need it because his arthritis gave him a fair bit of pain he didn’t want to admit having.
But if she said she had extra and made it seem like he was doing her a favor, chances are he’d take the help and use the salve. He might even let her inside, where she could see how much more of her help he’d take.
Jeph Pembry was at the end of a very long life. At a hundred and twenty-two, he liked to spend a lot of his time as a wolf, napping near the big wood-burning stove in the center of the room. He was a well-respected elder in the Pembry pack and Mac’s great uncle.
He was also stubborn, as alpha wolves tended to be. The older he got, the more ornery he got. Mainly, he let Aimee have her way. Ate the food she brought over. Took her advice. Drank the tea and tinctures she made. But he didn’t always get there without a lot of guile and charm on Aimee’s part. Just enough more than his stubbornness.
Beneath his gruff attitude, Aimee was pretty sure he liked her and had fun sparring with her.
“Come on in, then. I ‘spose I can use some of that gunk you make.”
He opened his screen door for her. His color was good. Hair, as always in the same marine, high and tight, he’d had as long as she’d remembered. White as snow now, as was his wolf, she’d heard. He was neat and exuded a little pain at the edges, but otherwise, he was having a good day and wanted the company.
“I sure could use a cup of coffee.” She held up a thermos. “Want some? I made a big pot this morning before I left for work.”
He nodded, pulling down cups she poured the coffee into and then pushed his way. “I was just over at the Counter with Katie Faith. Merilee does the baking for them now. She sent home some cherry Danish. Want to share with me?”
He had a weakness for sweets so she wasn’t surprised when he hummed his pleasure as he took the first bite.
“I’ve got some other stuff that I’m not going to be able to eat before it goes bad,” she said, keeping her tone light. “You can’t have the meat loaf because my momma made that for me.” She grinned. “But there’s some venison stew and I didn’t have the heart to tell Ada Healy I don’t much like venison. Want to take it off my hands?”
Ada was another kitchen witch like Aimee. She loved to cook and a few times a month she made batches of soups and stews, full of vegetables and whatever meat or game she had on hand and packaged it all up for Aimee to give to her clients when she went out visiting.
Jeph gave her the stinkeye long enough that she sighed. “What? I can take it by my parents’ place later, I guess. My mom can put it in the freezer for another day.”
“Ada’s a fine cook. If you won’t use it, put it in the ice box for me, please.”
After she loaded the stew into his fridge, she tidied up his kitchen while leaving some of the apples she knew he liked in the bowl on the small table in the breakfast nook.
All the while, he told her about a rebuild he and his grandson were working on. She noted his hands seemed more gnarled than usual so she managed to talk herself into helping him rub the salve onto his joints.
“Don’t worry, it doesn’t smell like perfume,” she told him as she began to gently knead his hands, rubbing the cream in. As she worked, she let her magic rise and wash through him, grabbing bits and pieces of stray anxiety, anger and pain as it did.
She hadn’t done it without permission. A long time ago, she’d asked if he minded her using healing magic on him when she was there and he’d agreed. She’d never use her power against someone like that, even if it was to h
elp.
“You smell like Mac,” he said, a gleam in his eyes.
“Do I, now? Huh. I’m wearing essential oil today. Maybe that’s it.”
He cackled. “I been hearing talk all over town about you two. That boy is a whole lot like his grandma. My youngest sister. She don’t like Scarlett much, which is why you don’t see her around town as often these days. But she’s got a spine of steel. And balls. Excuse my language. She’s tough, I mean.”
Aimee felt like balls were actually pretty weak. One kick or bump and the guy was out. Now, ovaries? They were tough.
“I know your sister.” Rebecca Pembry was a total badass. Since Dwayne and Scarlett had taken over as Patrons from Rebecca, she’d headed up the Episcopal bake sales, the church parking lot swap and ran all the fund-raising like a well-oiled machine. Their booth at the Founder’s Day celebration was always a place to stop for Rebecca’s hummingbird cake and divinity.
“She’s going to like that you’re with Macrae. No offense, but your power added to this pack is a good thing Mac brings to the table. I’m going to call her when you go. Lord it over her that I knew for sure first.” He gave her a quick look, like a little boy, and she was charmed even though she knew better.
“That’ll be between Mac and his grandma,” she said with a snicker.
“Up and challenging Dwayne for the mayor’s office last week? Got the whole pack talking. Good on you, girl. You have some nerve. I like it. Dwayne needs to go. He has since the first time he got dumped out of office. I wasn’t fooled by his claims to have changed. I’d prefer it be a wolf in the job though, no offense.”
“That mean I have your vote?” she teased. “I understand why you’d prefer a wolf in office. But I guess that’s why I’m running. Because the mayor’s office should be about the whole town and not just one group of us in it. It doesn’t belong to werewolves.”
“Fair enough. If you’re with Mac, maybe he could run instead.”
She laughed. “Well, if he wants to run against me later, I guess he can.”
He nodded once. Sharply. “You’re a firecracker. Good. Macrae needs that. Took over as Prime without an announcement from his daddy, you know. Had to because Dwayne’s too wishy-washy.” He growled a little. “Man’s useless. His father would be ashamed to see it if he were alive today. Darrell’s just as bad.”
She hated that Dwayne hadn’t made a big deal of Mac being Prime. He deserved to have a dad who was proud of his accomplishments. Maybe in his own way, Dwayne was proud and he just didn’t know how to show it and protect Darrell too.
Ugh. Whatever.
“I’m sorry your pack is having all this trouble. I’m not challenging Dwayne to make things harder for you all. I’m doing it to help the town. I care about Mac,” she added quietly. “I won’t ever hurt him like that. Not deliberately.”
He nodded, relaxing as she moved to the other hand and began to massage the salve in. Her magic warmed her skin, warmed his as well, soaking in and hopefully drowning his pain.
The spell she used would most likely keep him pain-free for the next several days. Her magic flowed into him, filling the space where the pain always lived and hid, surrounding it so he couldn’t feel it.
She spooled it slowly, like cotton candy, wrapping it around all the jagged parts inside him.
When she finished, he smiled softly at her. Just a brief moment.
Once she’d found her voice again—sometimes when she used her magic like that she had to take a few seconds to set herself to rights—she pointed at the tub of salve. “If you rub it in daily, in the morning when you wake and at night, that’ll help too.”
He thanked her in his gruff way and told her he might just be seeing her in two nights for the candidates’ forum in town.
She told him to call if he needed her. But he was too proud for that, so she’d be back. And she’d bring some extra salve to the forum to tuck into his pocket as well. It was part of the play they acted out on a regular basis. Their version of affection. She gave him two honks of the horn as she started her car and he rewarded her with a sour expression before heading inside again.
Grinning, she pulled away from the house and went back to work.
* * *
Though the day was cold and had been snowing in fits and starts, Aimee had her hands in the dirt, where they liked to be, when Huston strolled up, Mac at his side. An unexpected sight this time of the day.
There was a mayoral candidates’ forum later that night where the local paper and the rest of the council got to ask questions. Maybe that was it. Whatever brought them, it wasn’t a chore to look at both men as they approached.
Her magic seemed to rush out, surround them both to see what their intentions were. She’d never really experienced that before so she went with it, letting the magic lead.
Satisfied, apparently, with the lack of dire intention on her visitors’ part, her power trickled back into her gut.
“What brings you two out today?” She continued to clip her herbs, keeping them from the medicinal ones she had in a separate basket. She held up a bunch. “Dill? I seem to have way more of it than normal. I don’t know why. More for pickles I guess.”
“This is some kitchen garden,” Huston said, reverence in his tone as he turned in a slow circle to take in the riot of life that filled her yard. “I don’t think I’ve seen so many flowers in winter before.”
“Thank you.” Aimee didn’t tell him the reason why it had been so damned fertile of late was connected to how often his cousin visited her bed. As her heart filled with the chemistry of a new romance, so had everything all around her come to life.
She knew they had something more than marigolds and dill to talk about, but she let it come. Enjoying the way her magic seemed to spring right to her will when she worked outside on a regular basis.
“I had breakfast with my grandmother today.”
Ah.
She grinned up at Mac. “You can’t blame that on me. Talk to your great-uncle Jeph. He smelled you on me when I went to see him day before yesterday.”
“The minute you left he called Nan and got her all worked up. She’s already planning on how many children we’re having. Just so you know, she says four will do nicely.” Mac knelt next to where she’d been working.
“You call her Nan? Like for Nana?”
“One of my older cousins started it and it stuck. If she tells you to call her Nan you’re in. Rebecca is what company calls her.”
Aimee looked up at the sound of Huston’s snicker. He shrugged without arguing.
“You know that’s a lot of pressure, right? When I meet her officially what if she tells me to call her Rebecca?”
Mac rolled his eyes.
Huston said, “She won’t. She’s an astute judge of character.”
Aimee sure hoped so, because otherwise it would suck big-time.
“As for her request for babies, four seems like a lot of Pembrys. I don’t know about that.” Also, she wasn’t having any babies anytime soon. Not even with this gorgeous wolf kneeling next to her smelling really tasty.
“We can practice a lot until we get there.”
She rolled her eyes.
Finally, Mac said, “My grandmother gets headaches. Do you have anything for that?”
“A number of things.” Pleased he’d come to her, she stood, brushing off her knees. “I’ll make tea and you two can give me some details and we’ll figure out the answer.”
He held his hand out and she took it without a thought. When she touched him, her magic seemed to crackle around them both with something like static electricity.
His eyes widened a little and she winked. “Katie Faith told me that might happen. Apparently she and Jace have that too.”
By the time she’d washed her hands and switched from h
er work shoes into her house slippers, Mac had already put the kettle on to boil, totally at home in her kitchen.
“I wasn’t sure what sort of tea you’d want, but I got the water on.”
She tiptoed up to kiss him quickly. “Thanks. I was thinking of some spice tea. It’s really tasty but not too sweet. I made it myself.”
“Of course you did.”
She gave Mac the eye, but he just smiled back all solemn-like.
Aimee began to clean and prepare the marigold into a paste. “I hope you guys don’t mind if I work while you talk. Since I’ve got the town hall tonight, I want to have all the things I need for my home visits tomorrow finished up.”
Mac watched her, interested. “As long as our being here won’t mess up your magic.”
Aimee let her internal walls down as she began to slowly rock the pestle over the flowers. Magic flowed steadily into the mortar bowl, changing slightly when she added a few other things to get the consistency right. Her magic was part of the recipe, something uniquely hers, something she used to create the right remedy for the right person.
“It won’t. I’ve been making tinctures, pastes and the like since I was a kid.” She added a little comfrey, nudging it to be extra soothing. “Tell me about her headaches. She hasn’t contacted me about them in the past so whatever you can tell me would help.”
“She said sometimes the pain is so bad she has to lie down in the dark until it passes,” Mac said at last, concern for his grandmother in his tone.
He went on a while, giving more specifics about the sort of pain she had, Huston adding details here and there.
Aimee finished the paste and transferred it to three different jars, her lips moving as she added some basic protection magic to them.
“I suppose she won’t consent to see a doctor? I can connect her with a medical practice that has shifters and witches on staff. She should get a workup. It sounds like migraines, and I’ll go visit her to bring some tincture I have and ask her some more questions. But a neurologist can be sure there’s nothing alarming going on.”