Taken by Storm (Raised by Wolves #3)(11)
Author: Jennifer Lynn Barnes

I was ready for this. If Shay wanted to dance, I’d dance.

CHAPTER EIGHT

SHAY OBVIOUSLY HADN’T BEEN LIVING AT THIS END of his territory for long. The smell of his pack should have been thick in the air. The trees, the grass, the very earth should have absorbed it like soot or smog, but instead, I could make out only the scents of the wolves present. Devon, whose nose was infinitely better than mine, didn’t seem to be able to smell much more than that, at least according to what I could pick up through the bond.

Consider me an open book. Dev must have caught me looking at him, because he sent the message straight from his mind to mine. Mi casa es su casa. Mi nose es su nose.

Dev was the only wolf in my pack who could choose to completely block his mind from me. We both knew that was a good indication that someday, he might leave the Cedar Ridge Pack to rule his own, but tonight he was telling me—in his own oh-so-Devon way—that there weren’t going to be any barriers. I was at a distinct disadvantage, with my human nose and my human ears, in the company of men who had senses ten times as keen.

Devon—strong, solid, sensational Devon—would be my eyes and my ears and my nose.

You’re the best, Dev.

If we hadn’t been quickly approaching a variety of wolves from other packs, he might have preened. Instead, the expression on his face stayed carefully neutral.

To our left, Callum and Sora held back, allowing Dev and me to enter first. There were fifteen, maybe twenty men spread out on the field in front of Shay’s house, none close enough to touch another. Some were smiling politely. Some were playing human. But the two closest to us didn’t bother to mask what they were: the weight to their presence, the unearthly grace in the way they moved, the hint of fang in what a regular human girl might have mistaken for a grin.

Those weren’t grins, and these men weren’t our friends.

They’re from the Ash Mountain Pack, Devon told me silently, and I let his senses flood my mind. These men smelled like wild grass and charcoal and dirt. To another person, it might have been a pleasant enough smell, but to Devon—and by extension, to me—it was tinged with something rotten, something sour.

Not Pack. My pack-sense and subconscious were equally sure of that fact. The Ash Mountain alpha and his second-in-command were foreign. They had no allegiance to me or mine. They were a threat.

“Hello, girl.” Of the two men, one looked vaguely familiar, and he was the one who spoke. The last time I’d seen him had been the day I’d become an alpha myself, but his tone left little doubt that he didn’t consider me his equal.

I schooled my features into an expression I’d seen on Callum’s face a hundred thousand times, one that gave away nothing to what lay underneath. I didn’t respond to the fact that the man had called me girl or the implicit little his sneer had tacked on to the front of that word. I didn’t avoid his gaze, but I didn’t force him into a staring contest, either.

If these men wanted to be condescending, I couldn’t stop them, but if they were looking for a response, they weren’t going to get one.

“Hello.” My lips quirked their way into a subtle smile. I may not have had Callum’s knack, but I knew these men. Not personally. Not by name. But I’d known plenty of men just like them, and it was a good bet that they had never, ever known a person like me.

“You remember Devon,” I said politely. Beside me, Devon inclined his head in greeting.

“Charmed, I’m sure,” he said, but I doubted anyone else caught the mischievous glint in his eye. The Ash Mountain alpha—and the others, spread out behind him—were too caught up assessing my best friend’s size, the way he’d filled out, the power that told them that someday—not too far in the future—he’d be a physical match for anyone here.

Suddenly, their collective gaze shifted from Devon and me to a place just over my left shoulder.

Callum.

He’d hung back, letting me make my own first impressions, letting the others see how Devon had grown, how effortlessly I commanded his loyalty, how I carried myself as their equal in every conceivable way—but from the moment Callum stepped out of the shadows, the other alphas only had eyes for him. Physically,

Callum wasn’t the most imposing man here, and he made no move to make himself seem bigger. He didn’t puff up his chest. He didn’t raise his chin. His face was relaxed. His arms hung loose by his side.

“Hello, William,” he said, greeting the Ash Mountain alpha and then letting his gaze roam out to the rest of them, standing there watching us.

Watching him.

“Callum,” the alpha who’d been taking measure of my mettle returned, his eyes narrowed, his chin jutting out.

“You’ll want to be careful of your new neighbors,” Callum said, meeting the other man’s eyes. “They enjoy hunting and don’t pay much mind to property lines.”

I realized, belatedly, that Callum was talking about human neighbors, and that the words were meant as a friendly warning about a future the Ash Mountain Pack would most likely wish to avoid.

“I’ll take that under advisement,” William replied, his even voice at odds with the tension suddenly visible in his neck.

Callum didn’t wait for a thank-you. He wasn’t expecting one, and he didn’t act like anything extraordinary had just passed between the two of them, because to Callum, it wasn’t extraordinary. Seeing the different ways the future could play out was as natural to him as breathing—but to everyone else present, Callum’s casual words were a reminder and a warning.

Whatever they did, whatever they had planned, whatever they even thought of doing—he’d know it.

“Glad to see you made it.”

Shay’s voice was louder than it needed to be, surrounded by people with enhanced senses, but as he strode through the crowd, toward Callum—and me—I got the impression that wasn’t an accident. This was his rodeo, and he wasn’t ceding the spotlight to Callum.

And they say I’m melodramatic, Dev commented, with a mental roll of his eyes. Despite the levity in his words, I could feel a change in my friend as Shay approached—like every muscle in Devon’s body was hardening to stone.

Like his heart was hardening, too.

“Little brother.” Shay came to a stop directly in front of Devon, and I realized that Devon had grown since the last time I’d seen the two of them next to each other.

He wasn’t exactly the “little” brother anymore.