by Lori Drake
Joey nodded. “You’re probably right.” Eric’s parties usually involved loud music and kegs of beer, not string quartets and wine tastings.
“I’ll go,” Chris said. “It sounds fun. Maybe I’ll get to meet Brandon.”
Joey grimaced, less than eager to get Chris and Eric in the same room again. “Are you sure? You had a long flight today…”
Chris shrugged and glanced her way. “I’ll take a nap.”
Just like that, it was settled. It wasn’t like Joey could tell him not to go.
“Well, if anyone else wants to go, we should probably head that way about six thirty,” she said, rather than try to dissuade him further.
The gathering dispersed soon after. Joey lingered in her seat, arms folded and thoughts far away until Ben nudged her ankle with his foot. “You okay?”
“Eh.” Joey unfolded her arms and pushed herself upright. Her eyes slid toward the empty doorway.
“What happened?” He moved closer and perched on the arm of the chair.
“Eric was here waiting for us when we got back. I didn’t get a chance to talk to Chris about him, and when I tried, he didn’t want to hear any of it.”
Ben winced. He was the only one of her brothers that knew about what had happened between her and Chris, largely because he’d guessed, asked her about it, and she hadn’t had anyone else to confide in. He’d always been too intuitive for his own good, rather like their father in that regard.
“How do you feel about that?” he asked.
“Fuck, I don’t know.” She raked her fingers through her hair and sighed. “I didn’t even know how to broach the subject. Maybe it’s better this way. At least it’s done. He doesn’t want to talk about it. Neither do I. Win-win, right?”
Ben grunted softly, clearly unconvinced. “Has any good ever come of you two not talking about things?”
“I dunno, we had a pretty good twenty-six years.”
“If you want twenty-six more, you should consider talking to him.”
Joey thought about it a moment, then shook her head. “Meh. Let him stew for a while. If he thinks I’m that over him, maybe it’ll be good for us both.”
“So you’re not?”
“Hm?”
“Over him.”
“I didn’t say that.” Joey grumbled and pushed to her feet. “You’re coming to the party, right?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
“Good. I have this sinking feeling I’m going to be glad there’s an EMT on hand before the night’s over.”
6
They pulled up in front of the lake house at quarter to eight. Chris could hear the music emanating from the big house, even with the car running and all the windows up. There was a light on in every window, and the party had spilled out onto the wraparound porch despite the chill in the air.
“Just how big is the Granite Falls pack?” Chris asked, studying the surprising number of people with a frown.
In the back seat, Ben laughed. “Not that big. Eight, I think.”
“Nine,” Joey corrected, killing the engine. The music outside got louder as the quiet hum of the Audi’s engine faded.
“Right, nine.” Ben unbuckled his seatbelt; it whirred softly as it retracted. “In my defense, Itsuo is pretty forgettable.”
Joey snorted and shook her head, looking over at Chris. “Eric’s house parties are kind of legendary. He usually invites everyone in a five-mile radius to reduce the chance of someone calling the cops about the noise.”
“Real party animal, eh?” Chris said, looking out the window again. Truth be told, he wasn’t super stoked about attending this little fête, but there was no backing down now. He reached for the door handle.
“Are you sure you’re up to this? We can go back home if you want,” Joey offered, but it only firmed his resolve.
Instead of answering, he opened the door and climbed out of the car.
Inside, the music was so loud that the air seemed to throb with each drum beat. Smoke hung heavy in the air, and not all of it was tobacco. Chris focused on shallow breaths, not particularly wanting a contact high, even if his lycanthrope blood would burn it off quickly. As he followed Joey and Ben through the crowded house, he looked around curiously. It was dark, so he hadn’t gotten much of an impression of the outside, but the inside wasn’t what he expected. It looked like someone with good taste had decorated it decades ago, but it hadn’t been kept up. The carpets were threadbare and stained in places. The furniture had worn-through patches with tufts of foam padding poking out. Wooden pieces were scratched and pitted. He looked up and wished he hadn’t, spotting a few water stains of indeterminate age.
The rock music got louder as they made their way to the back of the house, where a stage had been erected in a large family room with tall French doors open to the deck out back. Eric’s band was on stage, and Chris managed to tear his eyes from the surroundings to watch them play while they finished out their set. As much as he didn’t want to like the music, he ended up bobbing his head in time with the beat anyway. They were good, and good music made Chris’s feet itch to dance. Unfortunately—or fortunately—there wasn’t enough room in the crowded living room for it.
The lead singer was a willowy woman with long black hair that fell in inky waves across her shoulders while she played her guitar and sang. She dominated the stage with her presence. Now and then Eric chimed in with a harmony, but the woman held center stage like she owned it. They played off each other well, ending up back to back at one point during an instrumental bit.
The song wound down. Applause and cheers from the crowd drowned out the fading final chord until Eric called for quiet by holding up a hand.
“Thank you, thank you. We’re going to take a little break here, but before we do, I’d like you to give a warm Seattle welcome to our guest of honor: Chris Martin! Come on up here, Chris!”
Chris froze momentarily, but Ben gave him a nudge and set him in motion. While applause, cheers, and whistles sounded around him, Chris slipped through the crowd and climbed up onto the platform. Eric stuck out a hand, and Chris shook it, forcing a smile.
The applause died down as Eric spoke into the mic again. “Chris just moved here from San Diego, so you’ll have to forgive him if he doesn’t take his coat off for a few months.” Laughter rose in the wake of that announcement. Even Chris chuckled.
The raven-haired singer slipped the microphone from its stand and sauntered over to Chris, eyes raking boldly down his form and back up again. “I’ll keep you warm, sugar.” She practically purred into the microphone, and Chris’s brows lifted.
Eric laughed. “Better jump on that while you can, that’s an offer you won’t get twice.” The crowd laughed again.
Generally, Chris didn’t mind flirtatious banter, but he wasn’t accustomed to doing it on a stage in front of a room full of strangers. Then again, how different was it from performing a dance routine? That’s all this was, after all. A performance, for the crowd. Surely.
Chris swallowed his discomfort and put on a smile, offering a hand. The woman placed her hand in his, and he lifted it to brush her knuckles with his lips.
“Ohh, a looker and a charmer,” she said, eyes twinkling.
“I guess we’re taking five.” Eric slipped the strap of his guitar over his head.
“Hopefully more than five,” the woman said, and gave the audience an exaggerated wink, setting off another round of raucous laughter. But the crowd lost interest quickly once the microphones were turned off. A hum of conversation rose to fill the silence.
Chris made his way off the stage while the musicians stowed their gear and found his way back to Joey. “Where’s Ben?”
“He went looking for Brandon.” Her arms were folded, expression shuttered as she watched Eric and the others slip offstage.
“Okay,” Chris said, and slipped his hands in his jacket pockets. Eric may have been joking about him not taking off his coat, but with the front and back doors open, the house was
decidedly drafty. “She’s one of us, isn’t she?” He nodded toward the singer as she hopped down and started toward them with Eric on her heels.
“Yeah. Eric’s second.”
Someone cranked up a stereo to play some fill-in music, curtailing the conversation temporarily.
“Hey! Nice to meet you!” the woman called as she drew near. She clasped Chris’s hand and pulled him in for a hearty handshake and pound on the back. “Thanks for being such a good sport up there.” She smiled, showing two rows of even, white teeth.
He smiled back. “No problem. You guys are pretty good!”
Eric laughed and draped an arm across Joey’s shoulders. “Don’t sound so surprised.”
“Ignore him, he doesn’t know how to take a compliment,” the woman said. “I’m Jessica, by the way. Have you met the rest of the crew yet?”
Chris shook his head. “Not yet. Is there somewhere quieter we can do that?”
Jessica grinned and nodded. As she tugged him by the arm in the direction of the back door, Chris looked over at Joey.
“Go ahead. We’ll catch up!” she called, flashing him a distracted smile as Eric tried to dance with her. Really, the fellow needed to stick with the guitar.
What she saw in him, Chris hadn’t figured out yet. He wasn’t sure he wanted to figure it out, either. In an effort to not dwell on it, he followed Jessica out the back door. The open air was a relief to his ringing ears, enough so that he didn’t even mind the cold.
Jessica hooked arms with him and led him along the porch to a set of stairs that ran up to the second floor.
“Shortcut,” she said, flashing a smile over her shoulder.
He nodded and followed her up the stairs, then through the door at the top. The music wasn’t nearly as loud up there, even though he could feel the floor vibrating under his feet.
“Aren’t you afraid someone’s going to call the cops about the noise?” he asked.
“Not really. Eric invited pretty much everyone in the neighborhood. The only ones that generally give a shit are the old-timers across the lake, and we have an agreement.”
“What kind of agreement?” He looked around curiously as he followed her down the hall, noting the peeling wallpaper and discolored squares denoted spots where photos or artwork had once hung.
“They don’t call the cops and we don’t TP their house.” She stopped and rapped lightly on a door.
Chris blinked. “What?”
“Kidding. We bribe them with baked goods.” When there was no answer, Jessica opened the door and ushered him inside.
Chuckling, Chris looked her over again. Something about the heavy eyeliner, ripped jeans, and T-shirt held together with safety pins didn’t exactly scream Sally Homemaker. “Oh really? What’s your specialty? Lemon bars? Snickerdoodles?”
“Brownies. Very special brownies, if you know what I mean.” She leaned against the doorframe while he lingered in the hall.
Chris’s brows shot up. “You get the elderly couple across the lake stoned so they won’t call the cops?” He couldn’t decide if it was brilliant or horrible.
“What are you, some kind of Boy Scout?”
He held up three fingers. “On my honor, I will try…”
She laughed. “That’s the Girl Scout oath.”
Chris tilted his head, feigning thoughtfulness. “That would explain the uniform… wait, were you a Girl Scout?”
“Where do you think I learned to make brownies?”
“They have pot brownie merit badges now? That’s progressive.” He stepped into the room and looked around. It had the same outdated decor as the rest of the house, but the furniture hadn’t taken quite as many licks, and it was clean, if shabby about the edges. It was also empty, aside from the two of them. “I thought we were going to meet the rest of your pack?”
Jessica closed the door and pulled out her phone, thumbs tapping rapidly at the screen. “Worried I’ll try to take advantage of you?” She glanced up, lips twitching with obvious amusement.
“After that stunt you pulled downstairs? Absolutely.” He wasn’t, not really, but the banter was fun and he was more relaxed than he had been all day.
Jessica snickered quietly and leaned against the wall, folding her arms. “Don’t worry, your virtue is safe with me. How do you know the Girl Scout oath, anyway?”
“My, uh, sister was one for a while when we were kids.” He sank down on the edge of the bed, feeling that sense of levity misting away as his thoughts turned to Joey.
“Your sister? I thought you were… Oh, you mean Joey?”
“Yeah. You thought I was what?”
“An only child, tragically orphaned as a tot. Everyone knows the story.”
Chris blinked. “They do?”
“Yeah, you’re kind of a legend around here. Or at least your dad is.”
Chris wanted to ask more, but the conversation was interrupted by the door flying open. He leapt to his feet, but Jessica remained where she was, casually leaning against the wall to the left of the door with no more than an unconcerned glance toward the new arrivals.
A man in a cowboy hat held the door open for a tall woman to enter ahead of him, then slipped in behind her and closed the door more quietly than he’d opened it.
“Sorry, partner. Door got away from me there. Slippery as a greased pig.” His Southern drawl partnered well with the hat, but Chris wasn’t able to pinpoint where in the South he was from until he noticed the Lone Star belt buckle.
“Don’t listen to him. He just likes to make a dramatic entrance. It’s the showman in him,” his companion said, pushing her iron-straight black hair back over one shoulder.
“Bull rider?” Chris hazarded a fairly stereotypical guess, since he didn’t recognize the man from the band and didn’t have much to go on.
Jessica laughed. “Rodeo clown.”
The man removed his hat and placed it over his heart, revealing a full head of sandy blond hair. “We prefer ‘rodeo protection athlete,’ thank you, ma’am.”
Jessica grinned and left it at that, checking her phone when it buzzed. Hat still in hand, the blond man stepped forward and offered a handshake.
“You must be Chris. I’m Colt, and this little filly is Kate.”
Chris smiled and shook Colt’s hand, then did the same with Kate. “Nice to meet you both.” He looked Kate over with amusement. The “little filly” was nearly as tall as he was. Her Native American ancestry showed prominently in her richly tanned skin, inky hair, dark eyes, and strong jaw. They both lowered their eyes after barely a hint of eye contact. Submissive, but friendly.
More wolves soon followed. Ben turned up with the infamous Brandon, who turned out to be an affable Canadian with obvious affection for Chris’s brother. Then there was Jenny, a shy, quiet girl who couldn’t have been much more than eighteen. At least, Chris hoped she was eighteen, given that her parents were nowhere in evidence. Next came Itsuo, a short man of Japanese origin and rigid formality. He bowed to Chris before shaking hands, but his eyes never left Chris’s until he moved off to stand quietly in a corner.
Last to arrive were Lucy and Adam. Despite Lucy’s bright blue hair, their resemblance was striking. They were the only members of the pack Chris had met so far that were obviously related. Having grown up with the Grants and Newmans, Chris had never experienced the dynamics of a pack that wasn’t structured around a particular bloodline, but he knew they existed. By his count, there were only three alphas among the nine of them. The number seemed low, but it didn’t seem like an opportune moment to ask about it.
“Are there a lot of rodeos in this area?” he asked Colt, deciding to stick to less personal questions.
“Nah, but I’ve been out of that business for a while. I’m an accountant now.”
The two occupations were so starkly at odds that Chris laughed. “Sounds… safer. Provided you’re not helping cartels launder money or anything.”
Colt laughed and shook his head. “Naw, nothing like that
. Kate’d have my hide.”
“Damn right,” Kate murmured, from her position beside Colt. Chris wondered if they were an item. They’d stuck together since they arrived, but there hadn’t been any displays of affection. Colt grinned at her.
“Eric’s on his way up,” Lucy announced. She’d had her nose buried in her phone since introductions were made.
Around the room, postures straightened. Movement from across the room caught Chris’s eye as Colt took Kate’s hand, fingers lacing together. Jessica ran her fingers through her hair and touched up her lipstick. Jenny wrapped her arms around her midsection and darted a glance at the window. The only one who appeared entirely unaffected was Itsuo. Chris met Ben’s eyes briefly, but his brother just shrugged and smiled, then leaned over to whisper something to Brandon.
The door opened a few seconds later and Eric sauntered in, sans Joey. His broad smile froze as he took in the scene. “You started without me?”
“You didn’t miss much, just introductions,” Jessica said.
Eric turned, pinning her with his gaze.
Her eyes widened, but she held her ground as well as his eyes. “Jesus, lighten up. You didn’t tell us to wait.”
A few tense seconds passed before Eric relaxed and smiled again. “Fair enough.” He turned back to face the others. “So, everyone’s introduced? Great, that’ll save some time. Chris, welcome to Seattle. As Alpha of the Granite Falls pack, I declare you welcome in our territory, blah blah, et cetera.”
Chris stood. He’d witnessed enough of the dynamic between Eric and his pack to know that his instincts had been on the money when they’d met. Eric was the sort of Alpha that established dominance firmly and led through intimidation and fear. It’d taken him less than five minutes to figure out. The question that haunted him was: why hadn’t Joey?
Determined to set a better example, Chris met Eric’s gaze evenly and offered a hand. Eric’s grip was as crushing as it had been the first time, but Chris didn’t flinch.
“Thanks, Eric,” he said. “And you—all of you—are welcome in mine, too. Not that I have much to claim.”