Christian fought not to bask in his approval, but the instinct was too deeply ingrained and so he was smiling slightly as he gave the name of the motel.
Barton killed the connection, and Christian lowered the phone slowly. He stared at it for a second, as if expecting something else—as if Dave might call. But he didn’t. Of course he didn’t. He shoved it deep in his pocket.
The guy who turned up in a beat-up old pickup didn’t say much. Actually, he didn’t say anything after a grunt of acknowledgment when Christian climbed in, but that suited Christian. Hewasn’t interested in making nice with his new pack. He just wanted to fight.
It seemed as if that was going to have to wait a little longer. When they pulled up outside a small huddle of buildings at the end of a dirt track, Tony came to greet him. He took him to a room in the largest house where he told him he could stay for now, and that they’d be eating in ten minutes, before disappearing.
Christian dumped his bag and followed the scent of rich, spicy chili to a kitchen.
As in the rest of the house, the windows were small, presumably to keep the place from baking in the middle of summer. It felt dark and cramped and a world away from Matt’s ranch. There was a woman stirring something in the pot on the stove, too busy talking to the girl stacking plates and silverware to spare him a glance. He hovered by the counter, waiting for a signal or a greeting or something. But no one looked up.
Right. Different rules here. He’d need to recover those old rhythms and instincts that had once been as easy as breathing, before Matt’s pack. He needed to remember to keep his head down, watch for threats, take advantage when he could. Andneverto walk into a room with a lock on the door.
He saw movement through the window and headed outside.
The yard was dusty and seemed to go on forever, no boundaries in sight. Three wooden tables were set out in a row with pack members sitting down around them. Tony was talking intently to Mal, but he looked up when Christian approached.
“Your place is at the bottom of the table,” he said.
It was what he’d expected. He’d have to work his way up, just like in any pack. Barton had implied he’d be sure to do so after watching him fight, but he’d still have to earn it.
“For now,” Mal said quietly, when Tony headed toward the head of the table. “Fight tonight the way you did last night, and that’ll change.”
Christian curled his lip, because he didn’t need fucking babying. Mal shrugged and turned away. Christian took a chair at the very bottom right-hand side of the table and looked at the people sitting around him through narrowed eyes, working out how long it would take him to displace them.
Planning just how far and how fast he was going to move up the ranks drove out all thoughts of how different this was from Elk Ridge, where mealtimes were a carefully choreographed communal effort. Sure, Jason did the cooking and was in charge of doling out the food, but the pack would never sit around and watch him struggle the way the woman from the kitchen was doing with a large pot that was obviously too heavy for her. Christian stamped down his inclination to offer to help. From the cast of her face, he suspected she wouldn’t thank him, and the last thing he should do in front of any of his new pack was to show weakness.
No, he was going to make this work, make them respect him, and it wouldn’t be long till he was sitting opposite Tony, at Barton’s left hand. Or maybe a bit farther down the table than that, because Christian never had liked the responsibility that went with authority. He was happiest somewhere in the middle of the pack, where his talents were respected but he didn’t have to deal with organizational bullshit. A bit like he’d been in Matt’s pack.
Barton came out of the house once the food was on the table. There were two big pots of chili, and plates of cornbread and chips, and Christian’s mouth was watering. The hierarchy was rigid when it came to helping themselves to food, but there was still plenty left by the time it got to his turn. And then he sat there, quietly taking stock of his new pack. There were about twenty ofthem, considerably fewer than there’d been at the fights. That must mean that only some of the pack lived here.
“Taylor.” He glanced up the table to find Barton looking directly at him. He bobbed his head slightly to show respect but held his gaze.
“You’re on first tonight,” Barton said. “You’re pretty handy, but you look good, too. That’ll keep the people who’ve only logged on through curiosity watching till we get to the business end of the night.”
Christian nodded, though he thought he might have just been insulted. He was a damn fine fighter, worth a lot more than simple decoration. He’d just have to show Barton that all over again.
As Barton started talking to Mal about IP addresses and gambling sites, Christian’s gaze wandered along the table. Most of the pack were concentrating on their food, but he found he was being carefully studied by a young woman halfway along the table. The interest in her brown eyes made him drop his gaze back to his plate. She was pretty, sure. But it wasn’t her face he saw. It was Dave’s, that lopsided smile, the way he’d mouthyou okay? across a crowded room.
His appetite fled and his throat ached as he realized—never again.
It took him a moment of staring fixedly at his plate to ensure he had full control over his expression. When he looked up again, she was still watching him. This time, there was a slight smile on her lips as she tucked a piece of long, dark hair behind her ear, drawing his attention to her pretty, heart-shaped face and the invitation in her eyes.
“Arianna.” Barton’s voice was raised slightly, and all other conversation abruptly ceased.
The girl who’d been so intently studying him glanced at Barton, her eyebrows raised in a way that Christian thought bordered on disrespectful. “Yes?”
“Mal’s got everything set up for your promo spot this afternoon. You’re not to get distracted.”
The emphasis laid ondistractedlet Christian know Barton had been fully aware of the subject of Arianna’s interest.
She sighed and rolled her eyes, instantly transformed from a worldly young woman into a sulky teenager. “No, Dad,” she said.
She was… Not that Christian was interested in her in theleast,but she was the alpha’s daughter? This had gone from uncomfortable to dangerous in the space of a heartbeat. She was still looking at him likethat, and Barton was watching.
“I’m gay,” he blurted out.
The words felt weird in his mouth, like they didn’t quite belong to him. He’d said them before, sure, just not to a bunch of strangers. He hadn’t meant to announce it like that. He’d panicked.
