He’d had to come back to the room he’d left no more than a week ago. A room that no longer had a bed in it, as that was now in his new bunkhouse, where he’d finally carved out a bit of peace and quiet for himself. And if it turned out the cats had used his bed, he’d have to burn it.
He’d spent the night shifted, sleeping on a pile of blankets that Jason and Riley had pulled together for him. Yeah, they still had those dog beds that Bryce had bought tucked away somewhere, but there was humiliation and there was downright mortification. Nowayhad he been willing to go to the house to get one of those.He’d no doubt have run into Leon on his way back, and he could justseethat supercilious cat’s raised eyebrow as he took in the fact Karl was carrying a dog bed.
He’d have preferred to have spent the night patrolling, but he’d looked at the schedule Leon sent him and in the space of two seconds decided he was going to be on duty whenever Leon was. Leon was unpredictable, and that made him dangerous. The other cats were good, but they looked to Leon for instruction, however reluctantly. He’d almost sworn he’d seen a tail lash, no matter that they were in human form, when Leon had assigned their routes the previous night. Cats never did like being organized, even by one of their own.
Karl stretched, enjoying the feel of sleep-warm muscles pushed as far as they’d go, then he shifted and dressed. It hadn’t exactly taken Riley and Jason long to take over his old room—it was dominated by a table they must have gotten from a dumpster, judging from the way a paperback was wedged under one leg to keep it steady. A pile of books on the Colorado silver boom teetered dangerously to one side of a laptop. The books were undoubtedly borrowed from Mr. Garrity, because they looked about a century old, and Riley usually read on his phone.
The first memoir Riley had ghost-written for Mr. Garrity was turning out to be a surprise hit, so they were rushing to get the next one out. Riley was realistic enough to know part of the reason for the popularity was probably the fact Mr. Garrity was from Elk Ridge, the same town as the infamous Argent who’d just hit the media all over the country, but it didn’t matter, he’d said cheerfully. A sale was a sale, whatever the reason.
Mr. Garrity had been given a new lease of life, attending book signings with his husband and having the best timeever,sharing his stories in person with people who were genuinely interested. Itmade up for the years of guarding a museum hardly anyone visited, where the exhibits were slowly crumbling into dust around him.
Riley had apologetically removed three mugs with the remnants of dried-out coffee in the bottom of them the previous night, but the scent of old coffee still filled the air, and Karl was suddenly impatient for the freshness of outside. Not least because there was now laughter mixed in with those sleepy murmurs from next door, and he justknewwhat would be coming next. Probably Jason. Loudly.
Outside, thick clouds massed in the sky and the air was cold and damp. It didn’t smell like rain just yet, but it’d be on them before the day was through. He raked his fingers through his hair, wondered briefly about tying it back because it was getting a bit long, and decided against it. He’d be in wolf form soon enough, monitoring Leon’s patrol.
At the thought of the cats, the last vestiges of relaxation fled. He’d need to check in with Colby and Tom, who’d patrolled overnight. They’d have come for him had anything happened, but he needed to hear any tiny little niggle, any way the cats had stepped out of line.
Tom was a damn good addition to the pack. He’d picked up swiftly on their signals and methods, and now he and Colby made a seriously impressive team, with Colby’s confidence in his own judgment growing by the day. But it still wasn’t the same as doing it himself, being absolutely sure the pack was safe.
It was another hour until shift change, so he’d get some breakfast and check in with Christian and Dave who were on patrol again today. If he’d had more people to spare, he’d have pulled Christian off the rota while the cats were here, because they didn’t seem like the best mix—Christian was volatile, and cats delighted in provocation.
He headed inside, mentally steeling himself in case any of the cats were there. The table was back in place in the middle of the kitchen, with half the pack already assembled around it and not a cat in sight. Tristan was holding forth, bright-eyed and excited, sharing everything he’d found out about cats the previous day.
“And another weird thing,” he was saying, waving a piece of buttered toast around to illustrate his point, “they call Luna their queen, but she’s elected. How the hell is that possible?”
Karl poured himself a coffee and settled quietly against the counter, waiting to see who was brave enough to dive into the convoluted ways cats organized themselves.
“Tom says they’ve always done it and no one’s ever known why,” Bryce said over a plateful of eggs and bacon.
“You mean no one’s ever just asked them?” Tristan demanded.
“Why didn’tyouask?” Christian said, attacking his breakfast as if it had offended him. Which was possible. A lot of things offended Christian, though he’d been calmer since he and Dave had returned from New Mexico with matching rings, and peace in their eyes.
Tristan glanced down at his plate, briefly nonplussed. “It kind of felt rude?”
Also, Karl was willing to guess, those cats were fairly intimidating. They must be the best of the best to form the queen’s guard. Which meant Leon, as head of security, might be almost as good as he evidently thought he was.
Bryce smirked. “She’s probably got a tiara. Think we should get Matt one?”
Matt had just come into the kitchen—which was probably why Bryce had said it—and was heading for the coffee machine. He shot Bryce a look that was equal parts alpha and tired dad. “Try it, and you’re cleaning the barn with a toothbrush.”
“Seriously, though, how’s it work? Should we ask Luna?” Tristan asked.
“No,” Karl said flatly, dropping into the seat beside him. “It’s their business, not ours.”
Tristan ducked his head but didn’t look chastened, exactly. Just thoughtful. Karl nudged him gently with an elbow. “Don’t forget to eat in your effort to understand the incomprehensible.”
Tristan promptly shoved a pancake into his mouth. Karl shook his head. He didn’t know why he thought he’d had to encourage Tristan—the kid ate like there was no tomorrow.
“Speaking of our guest,” Dave said. “Is she joining us for breakfast?”
Dave sometimes slipped into formality, like he was from another century.
“I doubt she’ll have been able to sleep through this racket, so probably,” Matt said, as Jesse wandered in barefoot, hair wet from the shower, and heading straight for Matt to pick a piece of bacon off the plate he’d just filled.
Jesse had been quieter than usual since the cats had arrived, Karl thought, and he couldn’t tell if it was in reaction to the cats or a feeling of guilt at the way he’d changed everything for the pack. Not a single one of them blamed him, but it was a fact that their lives had been turned upside down since he’d arrived in Elk Ridge.
But without his arrival, none of the pack—except Christian and Dave—would have met their mates. Karl didn’t believe in fate. Hecouldn’tbelieve in something that could be so cruel to those who deserved better, but it was weird, the way things had happened.
