1
CHRIS
Imust’ve worn a groove into the hardwood floor outside Cooper’s office by now. I kept tapping my foot and wondered if that betrayed my nervousness.
I tried stopping it twice, but the jitter crawled right back into my muscles and took over again.
I’d been imagining this moment since Cooper first hinted that he would be opening applications for the enforcer trainee slots.
Two senior wolves had retired recently. Their departure had left an unexpected gap. A gap I wanted desperately to fill. Dean, another wolf, had already filled one slot. I wanted the other one desperately.
Today, Cooper had called me in personally. A good sign? A bad sign? Or just Cooper being Cooper, the kind of alpha who looked you straight in the eye and told you what he expected?
My wolf was no help at all. He paced under my skin, restless, heart thumping against my ribs like he already knew something big was coming.
Before my family moved to Pecan Pines, before we were welcomed here, we’d lived packless.
We stayed in an isolated mountain cabin so far from civilization you couldn’t walk out and find a simple grocery without hiking a full day.
I’d grown up knowing silence, knowing survival, knowing the sound of nothing but wind and trees and my parents’ hushed voices when they worried food wouldn’t last through winter.
Being part of a pack still felt unreal sometimes. It was loud, warm, crowded, overwhelming and wonderful. I’d never trade this for that lonely mountain ever again.
The doorknob rattled. My entire body went rigid.
“Chris,” Cooper called. “Come in.”
My stomach plummeted and soared at the same time. I pushed the door open and stepped inside, already straightening my posture and trying my absolute hardest to project confidence and capability.
Except…
I froze. Cooper wasn’t alone. Two people occupied the chairs in front of his desk, leaving no seat for me unless I dragged one from the wall. That felt too awkward, so I stayed standing.
I clasped my hands behind my back and gave the two people a respectful nod.
One of them turned toward me and I was hit by a wave of prey-scent so sharp my wolf’s ears perked. He smelled like the woods in spring, like soft fur and timidity and something gentle and earthy.
A deer shifter.
A nervous one, too. He sat rigidly in the chair, wringing his hands, brown eyes darting between me and Cooper as though he expected something to leap out at him any second.
His sandy-brown hair flopped over his forehead, and he kept trying to tuck it behind his ear, only for it to fall forward again.
“This is the young man I told you about, Peter,” Cooper said. “Chris. One of our most promising trainees.”
Heat crawled up the back of my neck. I hoped it didn’t reach my face.
“This,” Cooper continued, gesturing to the anxious deer shifter, “is Peter Hill. Peter this is Christian, he goes by Chris.”
Peter gave me a small, nervous wave.
I returned it. “Nice to meet you.”
“And of course,” Cooper shifted his attention to the second person in the room. “You probably know Jaime.”
I had been trying very, very hard not to look directly at him, but now Cooper practically forced my hand. So I finally met Jaime’s eyes and instantly wished I hadn’t.
Not because he was scary or unwelcoming, or any logical reason. But because I felt something like a quiet but undeniable jolt run through me.
