Xander slips between me and Leah with a scowl. He wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her against him, but she shakes her head. “It’s fine, Xander. I’m used to people knowing and assumed she was told.”
“Regardless,” I start without really thinking of possible repercussions, “you’re still a member of the pack. You can come. IfI, an outsider and witch, am going, you can too.”
Three sets of eyes snap towards me.
She smiles weakly, shaking her head. “You sound like these two. Maybe next time.”
The frown they share suggests they’ve heard her standard lie a few times before.
Ryder leads me away so Xander can finish saying goodbye to Leah. Over my shoulder, I watch him brush his forehead against hers, and she smiles at him like he’s the only person in the world.
A touch to the back of my hand pulls my attention from the couple and towards Ryder, who’s watching me watch them. “What you said to her was nice.”
“It’s the truth. I didn’t realize not all wolves become, well, wolfish.”
His eyes tighten in the corners as he looks from me to Leah. “It’s extremely rare. She’s the only one I know of.”
“Is there a reason?”
“Wish I knew, ’cause then I’d help her, but nothing we know of, no.”
Xander jogs up beside us and shoots me a small smile, murmuring things I don’t catch to Ryder. We eventually join a much larger gathering, a couple of whom carry bags strapped to their backs, which probably means the meetings happen in human form. At least I’ll blend.
Ryder and Xander walk away to shift and return quickly. Ryder stops in front of me and in a well-practiced move, he lowers. Once I’m seated, he lifts to full height, takes his place at the lead, and with a low howl that carries through the trees, runs off.
Twenty-Seven
RYDER
Witches and shiftersrarely get along, yet I’m about to walk one right into the midst of three packs—all of whom wouldn’t hesitate before attacking.
If I wasn’t already aware of what exactly Carina Hargrove is to me, tonight would do it. Tonight, the beast will come out one way or the other, because there’s no way in fucking hell someone won’t target her, simply for the magick in her veins.
She’ll need protection at all times, and if not from me, then from the others. My skin itches at the thought of anyone else being in charge of her defence. Within the camp’s confines, it’s one thing, but around so many strangers, it’s another. If the worst happens, she’s capable of protecting herself, which is reassuring.
After a few hours of running, when the sun has long dipped behind the trees, we near the location. The dozen accompanying me shift into human form and dress. One by one, they await orders.
Normally, an Alpha would lead their pack in, but given my guest, I jerk my head for them to go ahead. Noises and shouts and whoops arise as they join the others.
Only Conan and Xander remain, as discussed earlier. They wander away after leaving the bag, which I carry away to change into jeans, and start pulling out other things added to it before we left.
“Here.” I thrust one of my hoodies at her. “Put this on.”
She pinches the black clothing, her brow hiking. “I’m not cold. I layered. Besides, one warming charm and I’ll be fine.”
Eyeing her tight pants, hiking boots, and woollen cardigan, I shake my head. She’s missing the point. She’s only wearingherclothing, and that won’t do. So I push my sweater over her head, tugging her arms through until the material falls down her body, stopping mid-thigh.
It’s been days since she’s worn my things, and fuck, I’ve missed the sight. The smell of her goes straight to my cock—to the wolf who’s seconds from tearing all her other clothing off and keeping her inonlythe sweater.
For tonight, however, it’s not selfish reasons she’s dressed in my things. It’s protection. Her being bathed in my scent is a warning to everyone in there.
She tugs on the material. “Comfy, but you didn’t listen to me.”
“It’ll make you smell stronger of me, which’ll protect you.”
Like me, but not completely. No, there’s still a strong scent of independence. One sniff, and everyone who doesn’t fear the prospect of magick will realize my scent is only surface level. Which means, it needs to be more believable.
I grasp her hips, my hands forming perfectly around her—fuckin’ made for my hands—and I back her up to a nearby tree. There isn’t a trace of fear, and that alone is heady.
