“Oh, that one’s all Malachi. He’s our alpha. I’ve got extra-sharp ears though.”
Wait…alpha? “I thought no one controlled the wolves.”
“He doesn’t control us.” His tone held no defensiveness, only an easy offer of information, the same as he’d done all afternoon. “But sometimes decisions have to be made that affect the entire pack. In those cases, we’re not a democracy. We trust Malachi, follow him voluntarily.”
“What if one of you didn’t want to follow him anymore?”
Ezra’s head cocked, and the green of his eyes seemed to deepen and darken as he considered. “You mean…tried to take over his role?”
“Yeah, that.”
A low rumble in his chest told her the answer before his words did. “Sometimes, when an alpha dies, there’s a rivalry about who’ll succeed him. But once a wolf takes on the role, it’s almost unheard of for another wolf to try to take it from him.”
“Okay.” But it still nagged at her. There were pieces of this puzzle she hadn’t found yet. She didn’t know enough to ask the right questions. “Suppose a wolf didn’t want to take over, but he didn’t want to follow the alpha anymore either? Would he have to leave the pack?”
“Well…” Ezra scrubbed his palm over his hair. “I guess so, yeah. But a wolf wouldn’t leave a pack he’s attached to, Willow. It would be like amputating his limbs or something.”
“So you have to live with the rule of the alpha.”
“It’s not…”
A growl ended the sentence. His wolf sounds emerged so naturally, so often, Willow was quickly learning how to read them. He growled for almost any reason, to express almost any feeling. Right now he wasn’t angry with her for asking; he was frustrated with his struggle to put into words things that must, for him, be second nature.
She shifted forward a few inches, the green blanket coarse against her palms. “I just want to understand.”
“I know. But I don’t know how…” He shrugged. “Malachi isn’t our master. He’s sworn to preserve the pack at all costs including his life. He’s sworn to serve and lead us the best he can, to learn our lore, to continue our oldest wolf customs. And he’s one of my best friends.”
“I believe you,” she said. “I guess I just want to observe for myself too. Which I’ll get to do in a couple days.”
Ezra growled his approval, and his eyes lit up, beautiful green, so deep and so alive.
“In the meantime, can you snap that branch with your bare wolf hands?”
She pointed to a tree several yards away. One of its main branches had split off, probably in a storm, now long dead. Ezra went to the tree with his lithe wolf gait, took up the branch, and… He didn’t crack it across his thigh as she’d expected. He ripped it the way she would rip a sheet of paper, easy power that left the torn ends in tatters. Willow’s mouth fell open as he returned to the blanket and knelt before her.
“How was that?”
“Incredible. And incredibly hot.”
He smirked. “I thought this was about gathering data.”
“Oh yeah.” She lowered her voice. “I now have conclusive data that you’re incredibly hot.”
Ezra’s eyes began to…yes, smolder. That was the only word for it. And the fire in his eyes set a fire in her too. She licked her lips, and Ezra’s chest rumbled, a new but unmistakable wolf sound. Willow leaned in, let her fingers graze the front of his shirt, and her nerves sang to life at the feel of the stunning muscles of his chest. She pressed her palm to his heartbeat. She looked up at him. Wonder filled his eyes now, an almost boyish wonder.
“What is it?” she whispered.
“You.” He cupped the back of her head with exquisite gentleness. “You, Willow.”
“Uh, maybe we should…” Not the place. Not the time. She was an introvert who didn’t do casual. He said she was his mate; he didn’t do casual either. “Maybe we should turn the conversation to more neutral things.”
“More neutral than…data?” He made the word sound sensual. His thumb stroked her hair, and a smirk took over his face. “Talk data to me, Willow.”
Within the space of a breath, they were kissing. Ezra drew her into his arms, into his lap, and her arms came around him, her hands running up his back to his neck, her fingers curling against the hair that was too short to tangle in, thick and coarse against her palms. His mouth was so warm, his embrace like sitting within the circle of a hearth fire. Their kiss was hungry, and time meant nothing while Ezra’s lips explored hers. He was so good at this. He moved his lips along her jaw to her neck, and she wanted nothing more than to be good at this too. To make him feel like this too. He nudged her coat aside for better access to kiss her neck.
Oh…wait…
“Not here,” she heard herself say.
