“I drove on county roads.”
“Lunar’s a private road. It’s not owned or maintained by the county.”
He’d implied otherwise, but she let that go in favor of a more important point. “Yet I wasn’t stopped.”
He was still studying her too closely, though not in a predatory fashion. “Claire made a strong case for you. Can’t blame you for being worried, given what you thought.”
“If I try to take Quinn home, will you physically stop me?”
“I won’t have to. Quinn’s not going to leave.”
A scoffing sound escaped her. So much for knowing Quinn.
“You’re free to ask him.” He made a broad gesture toward the house.
She would. Right now. And then they would leave together and find a better way to deal with what had happened to him. But before she could take a step, Aaron swiveled to face the road, and a low rumble filled his chest. Her heart began to hammer, as if she knew the danger he’d reacted to.
He stepped up close and set his hands on her shoulders. His gaze now wasn’t probing, wasn’t appreciative. It was urgent. “The alpha’s on his way, and you’re here without invitation.”
“Don’t tell me I’m disrespecting lupine territory by simply—”
“Enough. Forget what social media and your best friend the vampire”—he spit the word as if it were a mouthful of gasoline—“say about wolf dynamics. You don’t know anything. Stop assuming you do.”
His urgency flowed into her and began to dissipate the belligerence she’d clutched to keep her awake all night, to keep her from weeping at the sight of Quinn or cowering in the presence of an apex who could strangle her with two fingers. She tried to hold onto it. Her best chance was to stand her ground.
Or maybe her best chance was to listen to the man in front of her who knew what she didn’t, who seemed not to want her hurt.
“What do I do?” she said.
“Do not approach him, let him approach you. Do not challenge him, not even verbally. Not in any way, but especially not his right to Quinn.”
“Hisrightto Quinn?”
“Ember!” The hands on her shoulders gripped harder. “Quinn is a member of this pack now, and the alpha doesn’t part with someone whose life he’s sworn to preserve.”
Even if Quinn chose to leave? Aaron had said he wasn’t a prisoner. But…sworn to preserve. Did alphas really vow such a thing to their pack?
A khaki-colored pickup truck came down the road from the opposite direction Ember had entered, dust trailing and drifting high into the air. It turned and began the crawl up the driveway incline.
After it parked, a man stepped out and shut the door. His hair was pale blond with occasional ginger glints. He was muscled like Aaron but taller, something like six-foot-seven. He stood still a moment as his gaze traveled over the house. When it stopped on her, Ember’s mouth dried. He gave a slow nod and began to walk toward them, and his gait was the unhurried stalk of a wolf whose prey is already down and bleeding in the snow.
Years as Malachi’s beta and best friend assured Aaron of one thing at least: Ember was in no danger. The alpha wouldn’t snap her neck, though he could. Wouldn’t leave her with mental scars, though he could. But this encounter wouldn’t end well if she refused to show respect, and something deep within Aaron wanted—needed—it to end well.
The alpha ascended Aaron’s three porch steps and stood with his back to the road. Exposed yet unchallenged, a statement Ember would miss. She stared down at her shoes.
“Ember Grant,” he said.
She lifted her head, an automatic response to her name and maybe to the sandpaper texture of Malachi’s voice. People hearing it for the first time, human and wolf alike, tended to double take. She looked down again, trusting Aaron enough to heed him, at least for the moment.
“Yes,” she said. “I’m Ember Grant.”
“You’re here for Quinn.”
“He’s family.”
“He’s also pack now, and as his family you should respect that.”
“Well, that’s why I’m here. To find out if thispackis worth respecting.”
