“That’s the only kind.”
Paolo laughed and handed Wade his bag of precious BECs. “Your breakfast. On the house today.”
Wade made a face, then quickly pulled out a hundred-dollar bill and shoved it in the tip jar bolted to the food cart’s counter. “Thanks.”
Paolo didn’t even try to stop him. “See you next week?”
“I’ll be out of town.”
“Then let me know when you’re back, and I’ll stop by.”
“Thanks,” Wade called over his shoulder as he walked toward his apartment building. He dug into the bag and pulled out a steaming hot BEC, unwrapping it to take a large bite. He had eleven more in the bag and ate through three of them before he even made it to the front door of his apartment on the third floor. Putting his key into the lock, he shouldered the door open while shoving the last bite of his latest BEC into his mouth to free up his hands.
Wade snagged another sandwich, carrying the bag with him into his bedroom, which was a mess by Patrick’s standards but perfectly comfy by his. The custom-tailored suit Sage Taylor, his god pack’s dire, had paid for was currently at her mansion on Fifth Avenue, but Wade needed to change his clothes anyway. Lillian Taylor, Sage and Marek’s daughter and Wade’s favorite niece ever, had hit the toddler stage of being particular about the scents that came around her. She threw a temper tantrum when any of the core of the god pack smelled like someone else.
So Wade ate the rest of his BECs around a quick shower and getting dressed in new clothes, tossing his old ones in the direction of the overflowing laundry basket in the corner. At some point, he’d have to actually do his laundry, but he figured he had enough jeans and T-shirts in his dresser and closet to get him through another couple of weeks. He ate his last BEC while running out of the building to catch his rideshare, phone chiming with an incoming text from Patrick.
Where are you?
On my way.Wade slid into the back seat of the car and snapped a selfie, sending it to Patrick.
Judging by the crumbs on your face, you ate already, didn’t you? Sage made waffles.
Don’t eat my waffles!A few seconds later, Wade received a selfie of Patrick holding an entire Belgian waffle on a fork and staring at the camera.That’s just mean.
I’m feeding it to Lillian.
Wade groaned, knowing he couldn’t deny his niece anything to eat.Fine. But only her. Be there soon.
Heading Uptown on a Tuesday morning wasn’t as bad as going in the other direction, but it still took some time to get through rush-hour traffic. Wade passed the time scrolling through one of his favorite social media accounts, checking out any new restaurants in Manhattan that he needed to add to his list of places to try. Some of the viral food dishes looked absolutely ridiculous, which meant, of course, he wanted to eat them.
Eventually, the rideshare dropped him off in front of an Art Deco mansion overlooking Fifth Avenue and Central Park, the entire block god pack territory by virtue of Sage’s name being on the deed of trust to the building. Wade had a key to it, just like he had a key to Patrick and Jono’s building in Tribeca. Marek had dropped a ridiculous amount of money to buy an entire four-story condo building with a rooftop patio and garden, had it renovated into a single connected home, and then gave it to Patrick and Jono three years ago.
Despite Patrick and Jono being the alphas of the New York City god pack, neither of them, nor Sage nor Wade, called the ancestral territory in the Upper Manhattan neighborhood of Hamilton Heights home. They left those blocks of buildings to the rest of the god pack that had built up around them after the Battle of Samhain at the end of the world.
Linh Nguyen, Camilo Rivera, and Sahil Agarwal had been the first god pack members Jono had accepted into their ranks a few years ago, and they pretty much oversaw the housing situation in Hamilton Heights. The underground challenge ring was an aspect of the territory there that both Jono and Patrick detested and which the Crescent Coven had done multiple cleansingrituals to eradicate the rancid vibes there that always creeped Wade out.
Usually, a god pack clustered together in their territory and didn’t have their alphas and dire living somewhere else. Usually, a god pack wasn’t headed up by a mage and a werewolf who once channeled an animal-god patron. Fenrir had faded away after some time had passed, unlike the Norns, who Wade knew still claimed Marek as their seer. Marek hadn’t lost a shade of color since the Battle of Samhain, but Wade knew the world was washed out for him, with some colors fully gone. He wasn’t blind and driven mad by the Norns—yet—and hopefully wouldn’t hit that unwanted but inevitable milestone for a few more decades. He had a daughter to raise, after all.
A daughter who shrieked gleefully the second Wade stepped through the front door of the grand apartment Sage and Marek called home in the massive mansion.
“Uncle Wade!” Lillian screamed, throwing her arms up and sending pieces of Belgian waffle flying into the air. She wiggled out of her booster seat with the nimble fearlessness that only came with being born a werecreature, but she still wasn’t quick enough to outmaneuver her mother.
“Oh, let’s not take a header to the floor,” Sage said, scooping Lillian up and settling the little girl on her hip.
Lillian smacked a sticky hand against Sage’s cheek before pointing at Wade. “Uncle!”
“Hey, hey, how’s my favorite girl?” Wade asked as he hurried through the living area over to the crowded dining table. The curtains were pulled back from the wall of windows, showing off the sunny view of Central Park.
Sage handed Lillian over with a tired smile. “Not done with breakfast. She wants a piece of fruit in every single square of the waffle and each square cut into a piece by itself. Have fun.”
Wade kissed Lillian on her forehead, smiling when she giggled. “Of course she does.”
Lillian’s hair was a medium brown, grown out long, with soft, loose curls she got from Marek. Her brown eyes and the natural-born ability to shift into a weretiger she got from Sage. Her stubborn nature, they liked to joke, she got from Patrick through osmosis. Wade had made it his duty to teach her about the tastiness of snacks, and every time she hit a food milestone, he was there to share it with her.
Syrup and whipped cream–covered Belgian waffles dotted with fruit was definitely a meal they’d shared before. Wade sat in the last empty seat at the table, settling Lillian on his lap. Jono reached across the table with Lillian’s plastic plate and cartoon-themed utensils, which Wade snagged and dropped in front of them.
“You’re late,” Patrick said from Jono’s left.
