“I didn’t accidentally scent her. You and Badger worked together to test me. She was, what, barely two weeks old then? You already knew. Throughout the years, you’ve had an uncanny ability to maneuver the pack around various political and financial difficulties that would have scattered or wiped out any other pack. Like you’ve had a…a crystal ball or something.”
Duncan walked over, handed Charlie the book, and then rounded the bar to get a bottle of bourbon.
Charlie’s eyes dropped closed as he held the book to his nose and deeply inhaled. His soft, plaintive whine nearly broke Duncan’s heart.
“You won’t believe me,” Duncan said as he poured a full glass for himself.
“Try me, sir.”
Duncan threw back the liquor, gulping it, savoring the heat blazing a path down his throat. “Do you remember that night before I left for America? You and me and Badger sitting in that pub?”
Charlie turned, the book still held under his nose, but now looking at Duncan. “The crazy old drunk woman telling fortunes?”
“She wasn’t crazy.” Duncan refilled his glass, and this was one of the rare times he cursed his shifter abilities, meaning it took a lot more liquor to get him drunk than it did the average human. “She was eaten up and in pain from cancer. But she also…saw things. And between that and her pain from her sickness, liquor was the only thing that helped her bear it. She was almost dead when she crossed paths with us that night.”
“Almost?”
Duncan down that glass of bourbon. “She didn’t see morning’s light, and it was a welcome blessing to her. She saw we were wolves, that we were Prime Alphas. And she wasn’t a wolf. She wasn’t any kind of shifter.”
Charlie lowered the book, staring. “You talked to her after you left the pub?”
Duncan slowly nodded. “I did her a kindness and she did me one in return, telling me what she saw.” He met Charlie’s gaze. “She’s been right about everything. And I mean everything. Her name was Chelsea.”
“So you wanted to test me to see if she…” Charlie drifted over to the bar. “I’ll take more, please,” he hoarsely whispered.
Duncan topped off Charlie’s glass, which almost finished off the bottle. Then he put it to his own lips and drained the last swallows.
“My Chelsea is thirteen,” Duncan finally said. “And if you dare lay a finger on her against her will, I’ll rip your throat out myself.”
He was prepared for any reaction except Charlie’s tears. The man sank to his knees, tipping his head back. “I swear, sir,” he said.
Duncan stared down at him before reaching out and grabbing his throat. “You can come to the big Muster after she’s turned fifteen. I will formally introduce the two of you then. And if she reacts positively to you, you’ll have my blessings to eventually marry her.”
He tightened his grip on the man’s throat. “But you will wait to mate with her until she’s at least sixteen, and even then, only if she wants to. If she feels a reciprocal bond with you, you can date her, you can court her, but even if you need to lock yourself in a chastity belt and give me the key to control yourself, if you lay an inappropriate finger or any other body part on her before she’s sixteen, I will kill you. If Louisa doesn’t beat me to it.”
Tears rolled down Charlie’s cheeks. “I swear it, sir.” He still held the book clutched to his chest. Duncan wondered if he tried to take it back, if Charlie would bare his teeth and growl at him.
Duncan released Charlie’s throat and reached for his wallet. In it, he kept a small version of their latest family portrait, taken just a few months earlier. He showed it to Charlie and pointed her out. “When you meet her, if and only if she reacts to you, I’ll deed you a piece of property next to my house, and you can start building there.”
Charlie stared at the picture and slowly nodded, tears brimming and rolling down his cheeks. “Thank you, sir.”
One Year Later
“Sir? Can I speak with you?”
Duncan turned at the unfamiliar man’s voice. The guy was a wolf—a Prime Alpha—but Duncan didn’t recognize him. “And you are?”
The man’s smile never made it anywhere close to his eyes, which looked cold and downright reptilian. “Walter Endquist.” He extended his hand to Duncan, who finally—reluctantly—shook with him. “And you’re Duncan Lister, the Targhee Pack Alpha.”
Duncan released his hand and sized him up. “You have me at a disadvantage then.”
This was one of the reasons he hated coming to these goddamned things. An informal gathering of many of the Pack Alphas in the Americas, and usually Prime Alphas looking to become Enforcers or join other packs. Although most of the Pack Alphas were now beholden to Duncan, either openly or quietly.
He always left Louisa and the girls at home in Idaho.
Especially Chelsea. This year, the social was in Kansas City, and he’d struck deals with the Pack Alphas of several smaller independent packs for them to publicly take knees to him and merge their packs with the Targhees for very lucrative compensation. Already, the Targhees were the largest pack on the continent, and even up into Canada and down into Mexico.
Most of the wolves at these events were honorable and trustworthy, although some of them held looser views on matings than Duncan. Many of these Pack Alphas were older than Duncan and had immigrated to the States from the UK or Europe, where it wasn’t uncommon, even in today’s age, to allow younger girls to be claimed as mates if the man felt a mate bond with her, whether it was reciprocated or not.
