“Slightly more gradual than that.”
“Are you done, or do alphas with golden eyes grow to eight or nine feet?”
He growled thoughtfully, still smiling with his eyes. “I’m not sure there’s definitive research on it.”
He’d never been much of a hugger, and he was alpha now, and she couldn’t remember if William had allowed hugs or not. She reached out and touched his arm, just briefly. He seemed not to mind.
“How is it, leading the pack?”
“It’s very good,” he said without hesitation. Then he tilted his chin at the plate she balanced on one hand. “You haven’t taken a bite yet.”
He motioned her to sit in one of the empty camping chairs, then took the one adjacent. His legs made up a good portion of his height, but sitting beside her instead of towering over her only emphasized the span of his frame. From shoulder to shoulder he was… Yeah, her first word had been best. Malachi was enormous.
“You’re hungry,” he said. “Go ahead.”
His words reminded her stomach how hollow it was. In silence she shoveled bites of the standard yet delicious cookout fare. Malachi showed no inclination to leave, so she kept eating for a minute.
“Can I ask you…?” Maybe she shouldn’t ask, but unlike the very old wolves she’d known as a kid, the former alpha ought to be here. Malachi nodded her on. “I haven’t seen William.”
“Ah,” he said quietly, and his eyes shadowed. “No, you won’t. The pack lost him four years ago, a car accident.”
Four years. The alpha of their pack had been gone four years, and she’d had no idea. She swallowed a lump of tears. Another thing most humans didn’t know—the depth of attachment in a wolf pack, the depth of sorrow every wolf suffered at the loss of one. And to lose him in an accident, a grief no one could prepare for…
“I’m so sorry. What an awful time for all of you.”
“Thank you, Kels. It was.”
“And overnight, at twenty-six, you were alpha.”
Malachi nodded.
“I’ve missed so much of your lives. I never…I never meant to disappear. I had to get away and figure out what happened, but…”
“I know,” he said.
“You do?” She gave a little laugh. “Don’t tell me. Mystical alpha wisdom.”
A chuckle rumbled in his chest, so deep it reminded her of an earthquake. “No such thing. But we knew each other well enough, at one time.”
“And you can smell my feelings.”
“Goes without saying.”
She wanted to ask so many things. She wanted to talk to her friends for days. While Malachi sat quietly beside her, she finished her lunch, watched the others mingle, and tried to keep her eyes off Trevor.
He wasn’t going to greet her.
Malachi cast her a long, patient look as if he read her mind. Kelsey stared back and took a defiant bite of Ember’s cookie. Whoa, rich and fudgy. She thought he’d say something, almost wanted him to. If Trevor planned to ignore her, she’d ask about him from the others. But Malachi cast another long look, this time in Trevor’s direction, and got up from his chair.
“It’s good to have you home, Kelsey,” he said, then walked away.
Kelsey looked…and there he was. Standing at an extra distance, hands behind his back, watching her. No doubt his thumbs were hooked on the pockets of his jeans.
“Hi,” she said.
Trevor seemed to take the word as the invitation she intended. His chest rose and fell in a breath that was a little too ragged for the circumstance. He walked closer with caution, as if he might be doing something wrong. Then he sat in the chair Malachi had vacated.
“Hi,” he said. “Uh…how’s the food?”
