She bit back the urge to say thank God since she didn’t want to face a crowd; however, the words were halted by a sudden knock on Letty’s apartment door. Both their eyes swung toward it, though Imogene raised hers in a silent question while Letty’s brows furrowed. They sat in silence for a moment before a louder knock came on the door.
Tossing the last of her chip into her mouth, Letty went to the door and checked the peephole. “It’s Alexis and Riley,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “With bags from your favorite liquor store.”
Imogene frowned and started to object except Letty had already opened the door, ushering the pair inside. “We’d just given up on being more than just the two of us.”
“And you thought we’d be unwelcome, Ri.”
Alexis’ steps never faltered on a path from the door into the kitchen where she began unloading her bag. Each bottle got checked then added to a line-up on the counter and soon joined by a variety of fruit juices and fresh fruit from Riley’s bag, though Imogene couldn’t seem to find words to ask what they were doing here.
“Alice mentioned it to Eliana,” Riley volunteered as if having read her mind. “I thought we should call ahead, but someone stole my phone.”
“Confiscated, not stolen.”
“I hope you guys like tamales,” Letty said as she settled back at the counter, picking out another chip. “They’re my abuela’s recipe.”
“I don’t know that I’ve ever had tamales, but I’m willing to try them.”
Unlike Riley’s agreement, Alexis had moved over to the blender and removed the plastic part then headed for the sink. “So long as there’s meat, I’ll eat anything. Do you just have the one blender?”
Watching Letty move off to help, Imogene shook her head and focused on Riley who’d picked out a chip from the bowl and bitten off a corner. She did struggle sometimes to look at her and not think of Landon given their shared hair color, but instead of asking about him, she questioned, “How’d your senior portrait sessions go?”
“They were great, definitely some of my best work,” she said with a smile. “Directing a teenager through a photoshoot isn’t that much harder than a toddler. Almost the same amount of wardrobe changes, too.”
Imogene laughed, quietly, and felt some of the tension drain from her shoulders. “You didn’t practice with Elliot and Eliana?”
Riley gave an unlady-like snort. “The same Elliot who said taking pictures steals a piece of his soul and Eliana who lives to filter herself on Instagram? I’d rather wrangle strangers or puppies.”
An excited shout drew their attention to the other side of the kitchen where Letty had unearthed a second blender and Alexis cleaned the original one at the sink. Suds and leftover margarita mix were dripping down, though she seemed oblivious as she gave it one last rinse then wiped it down with a towel.
“What exactly is she planning to make?”
Instead of an answer, Riley shrugged and grabbed a chip to swipe through the dip then pop into her mouth. “Chaos?”
“There will be no chaos making that threatens Sunday Funday,” Letty interrupted, pointing a finger in Alexis’ direction. “And if you mess up my blender, you get no tamales.”
“Also no sharing what happens on Sunday Funday with anyone not present,” Imogene chimed in. “Male or female. Human or wolf.”
Alexis waved away the words and began adding a variety of liquids and fruit to the blenders. “Men are overrated anyway,” she said before moving to retrieve a handful of ice cubes. “Especially talking to them.”
Despite the initial tension at having their impromptu Tequila Tuesday crashed, Imogene began to relax as she finished her margarita then replaced it with one of Alexis’ vibrant yellow concoctions topped with a fruit garnished straw. The tamales were removed from the oven and dished onto four plates along with more of the seven layer dip before they’d moved into the living room, setting onto the couch and floor near the low slung coffee table. A handful of napkins were placed in the center along with extra toppings for the still warm tamales.
By the time she’d gotten halfway through her first tamale, Alexis stated, “I can’t eat in silence so let’s play a game. What’s the worst thing about being a werewolf?”
“Excess hair growth,” Letty said immediately “I feel like my legs grow twice the usual rate near full moons.”
“I think that’s in your head,” Imogene informed her, pausing in the midst of cutting another piece off her tamale. “I can’t keep a decent manicure or pedicure after turning.”
Laughter met her words before Riley volunteered, “I hate how well I can smell all the wrong things.” At the raised eyebrows, she added, “Live with someone long enough, and you learn their scent as well as . . . other things.”
Letty made a gagging sound and took a huge gulp from her drink.
“You’re all wrong,” Alexis declared then brandished the fork as if bringing everyone’s attention to herself. “There’s no fun surprises with getting naked since you see everyone’s business on full moons.”
Imogene coughed as the drink she’d just taken mixed with an unplanned laugh. Snagging a napkin from the pile, she pressed it against her mouth and tried to recover while Alexis looked increasingly proud of herself. Likely she’d started the entire conversation just to make that outlandish statement, though Riley’s smack to Alexis’ arm made her feel a little better about almost choking.
Letty smacked her back several times, and she recovered enough to croak out, “You’re the worst.”
“I believe you mean the best,” Alexis argued with a grin. “Okay, so what’s the best part of being a werewolf?”
Unsurprisingly, it took a minute longer for people to think before Riley piped up with, “I guess the best part would be having a pack that you can depend on no matter what happens.”
While Letty made a gagging sound at the sappy words, Alexis leaned over to squeeze her in a tight hug. “You’re adorable, Ri, never change.”
“I like having claws,” Letty volunteered. “Some outfits make it inconvenient to carry a weapon, just in case, but now I have claws so I’m a living weapon.”
Imogene’s brows raised. “And how many times have you used your claws as a weapon?”
“None that you know of,” she replied before shoving half a tamale into her mouth. “Your turn.”
She thought a minute then said, “I guess I’m in the same boat as Riley because turning got me Micah and Steven, and I kind of like being able to boss people around now that I’m an alpha.”
Alexis gave a sage nod. “I could be down with that perk, but for me, I like the expansion to my metabolism because that means I can eat more without getting a stomach ache.”
By the time they’d finished the tamales and refilled their drinks, Alexis had switched over to would you rather questions. At least a third of them seemed designed to make Riley uncomfortable and blushing, though she and Letty were having a good laugh. Thankfully, none of the other Millers had been brought into the conversation by name so she found thoughts of Landon creeping in less and less.
“Final question,” Alexis declared before draining the last of her glass. “It’s the apocalypse and you can only keep three people. One of them has to be male so you can repopulate. Go!”
Letty took a sip from her drink then stated, “Imogene, you, and Charlie. Sorry, Riley, but you’re too nice to survive an apocalypse.”
Instead of being offended, Riley laughed. “Surprisingly, you’re not the first person to say so,” she replied, elbowing the still laughing Alexis. “I pick Alexis, Mom, and Elias to repopulate which is also why I can’t keep any of my brothers because they’d never let it happen.”
Imogene’s brows raised. “Not Paul?”
She shook her head. “Elias is more self-sufficient plus you really think Paul would leave his mother’s side?”
More laughter met her words before Imogene took a drink from her glass while Alexis declared, “I pick Riley, Matthew, and Ro
y because not only will my kids be giants, but he can protect us from the inevitable cannibals.”
“Tyler’s going to be so disappointed.”
Riley’s words earned her a pillow to the face that barely avoided knocking over her drink; however, she didn’t seem the slightest bit repentant for her words. She simply stuck her tongue out in Alexis’ direction.
“What about you, Imogene?”
Landon’s face immediately came to mind, but she lied, “I choose to keep the three of you and let the rest of the human race perish.”
“This is why you’re my favorite,” Letty said, lifting her glass. “I say we have a toast to not needing men nearly as much as they need us.”
Alexis and Riley’s glasses came up to clink along with hers as they echoed, “To not needing men nearly as much as they need us.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Guard practice was already underway when Landon made his appearance, though he felt like everything came to a stop as he strolled toward the huge ring in the middle. Sparring came to an abrupt end and the teens hanging out within the dome he’d noticed on his last visit scrambled out, including Charlie’s twins and the blonde he knew as Eliana’s friend, Alice, and one of Imogene’s packmates. Even Roy’s instruction of a small group stopped.
Steeling himself against the amount of unwelcome attention, he bent down to remove his shoes and tossed them aside then followed it up with his shirt. Only his black shorts remained as he grasped the ropes then stepped through into the ring as the previous combatants excited on the opposite side.
“I know I let the guard down when I left,” he began, ignoring the derisive sounds and jeers. “And I haven’t exactly been proactive since returning so this is me officially saying I want back in. I’m willing to take on any challengers to prove this is what I want.”
His words were met with a long, awkward silence, but just as he prepared to step out of the ring, a familiar face stepped up. They’d never been exceptionally close in anything except age despite sharing a pack, though he did notice the other man’s glance at Roy who nodded as he folded his thick arms across his chest. Apparently the older wolf’s silent blessing of a nod gave him guard approval to step inside the ring.
Recalling the training of his youth, Landon held out a hand to be shaken then drew his arms back into a fighting stance. He tried to avoid thinking about the not-so-small multitude gathered around the ring and focused on his opponent. He had a good stance, but he stood a little too stiff; elbows bent a little too sharply, and he seemed unsure about how to maintain his footing.
Landon blocked the first punch with ease then one of his own was thrown, though he wasn’t surprised to find it knocked aside. He tested a jab here and there for reflexes and noticed how easily his opponent had been put on the defense, likely the result of self-defense training over a solid offense. Faking a punch with his right, he twisted into a block then slid his foot out to knock the younger wolf sprawling, barely having broken a sweat.
“And I thought I was rusty,” he remarked even as the next wolf joined him in the ring. He didn’t know a name, but he did recognize him as a Langford cousin. “Let’s hope you’re more of a challenge.”
Instead of words, the new arrival came at him with an array of punches that drove him back; however, Landon only allowed it for a moment before spotting an opening. He ducked then twisted to come up behind him, driving a fist into one of his kidneys. An angry howl met the words, though by the time he’d turned, Landon had shifted back in a fighting stance and attacked with a flurry of his own blows. Golden eyes and slightly elongated teeth met his eyes.
“Temper, temper.”
The words were no sooner out that he drove a fist into the other wolf’s chin, snapping his head back and sending him crashing to the mat. He shook out his hand to alleviate the lingering pain, though Roy’s voice called, “Evan, get the hell out of the ring. You know the rules like everyone else.”
Glancing over to his old friend, Landon saw nothing encouraging about the scowl, but at least he wasn’t letting anyone take a bite out of him. It had always been part of the guard training to not use claws or teeth against a fellow wolf, though his relief ended as another wolf stepped into the ring.
It became a blur of punches, kicks, and hits back and forth with far more wolves than he’d counted on stepping into the ring. Refusing to admit defeat or that he’d gotten sloppy in training, he held his ground and fought to the best of his abilities.
Sweat had begun to bead along his forehead and drip down into his eyes, though there was no chance to wipe it aside or clear his vision. His arm muscles ached from too long in the same positions, but he pushed down the pain to focus on the target directly in front of him. A pair of wolves had stepped into the ring together and were doing a better job than expected of keeping him on his toes, even getting a hit here or there, but Roy’s whistle from the edge of the ring that brought things to a screeching halt.
As the pair of wolves vacated the ring, Landon turned toward the sound and swiped a hand across his eyes to ensure he hadn’t developed a concussion and begun hallucinating. Roy’s massive form had joined him in the ring, shirtless and displaying a lot more scars than just his damaged eye.
Roy’s head rolled on his beefy shoulders and a hand reached out followed by a growl of, “Let’s try a real challenger who isn’t afraid to hurt the little prince.”
He winced at the insulting title often used against the Langfords heirs, but he gritted his teeth to avoid giving anymore of a reaction. He’d wondered himself if the others were pulling their punches because, lengthy absence or not, he remained a Miller and in the succession line which had always been a mixed bag or blessing and curse.
Even back in the day, he hadn’t been a match for Roy, but he still curled his hands into fists after the initial shake and set his feet. He wanted to say it was an unfair advantage that he’d faced no fewer than eight wolves while Roy had stood on the sidelines, though the punches were coming before he’d even completed the thought. Roy’s attacks pushed him back into the role of defense over a direct attack, having to concentrate on blocking to avoid a direct hit to his face.
Fighting Roy drove home that none of the others had been fighting at full strength, but Landon bit back the swear words on his tongue. He tried for a punch here and there only to be blocked. One of Roy’s punches nailed him in the stomach, though he fought the need to double over and kept his face protected from a flying fist. His forearm took a blow that would have shattered human bones, and it took every ounce of training he’d ever had to not give into the pain shooting through every inch of him.
More sweat dripped into his eyes, and he tried to blink it aside. The temporary distraction allowed one of Roy’s punches to catch him in the side of the head, driving him down into the mat; however, just as he prepared to accept death, a hand appeared in his peripheral vision.
Acting more on instinct than anything else, he clasped the hand and felt himself being pulled up as if he weighed nothing. Roy’s face suddenly appeared in front of him as his vision swam from a mix of pain, sweat, and what he thought might be tears.
“Your skills in the ring have gone to shit,” Roy growled, still gripping his hand. “And unlike the rest of them, I’m not going easy on you. You got a lot of shit to relearn, Landon.”
Landon blinked aside moisture and echoed, “To relearn?”
“About being part of the guard,” he clarified before clasping a hand on his shoulder. The scowl split into something reminiscent of a smile. “Welcome home, brother.”
His surprise barely had time to register before Roy jerked him into a bear hug, heedless of the lingering pain in almost every inch of his body. He gave the older wolf’s back an awkward pat then slumped against the ropes, gripping onto them for balance. However, there were soon others there helping him slip out of the ring then settle onto a nearby stump and someone pressed a bottle of water into his hand. Half of it went into his mouth then he dumped the
rest over his head as the others headed back to their training.
“Not many wolves can take a Roy punch straight to the head and walk away,” Elliot remarked, prompting him to lift his damp head from his hands. “You’re damned lucky, Uncle.”
Eliana scoffed. “It wasn’t that impressive. Uncle Tyler does it weekly.”
Blinking at the scowling faces of his niece and amused nephew, Landon sighed. “Glad I could entertain you both. Aren’t you supposed to be training?”
Elliot shook his head. “Nah, I’m just here to support El. Dad says guard training would be counterproductive to his and Matthew’s methods.”
“Of course he did,” he mumbled, shaking his head. One of the others brought over his discarded shirt, and he wiped his face on it. “I’ve heard you’re one of the best in the guard, Eliana.”
“No thanks to you,” she replied before turning on her heel and heading away.
Elliot sighed. “I’d say she’ll get over it, but she still occasionally reminds me that I let her turtle escape when we were seven,” he said which led to a laugh and wince from Landon. “Even after I caught her three replacements.”
Peeling the soaked shirt away from his face, he questioned, “Your two were trusted to care for something alive?”
“I’m as shocked as you, but it happened.”
Landon shook his head and pushed himself up, wincing at the lingering pain within not only his arms but his face from Roy’s hit. While he might not have any bruises, that didn’t take away the ache, and he dreaded having to walk all the way back to the house except he had one more confrontation tonight.
Somehow, the thought of facing his mother after the stilted conversations of the last week or more didn’t rank too much below stepping in the ring against the guard and Roy. However, just like the ring, this was a necessary conversation, and he couldn’t let it be put off any longer if he planned to make this stay permanent so, like it or not, he waved good-bye to Elliot and started the long trek back.
Rule of Claw: Wolves of Worsham #1 Page 15