Chapter 7
Nadia made her way through the territory dressed in slate and black, right down to her boots and the heavy coat she’d buttoned tight against the cold. She’d been given the outfit that morning, and it made some sense. Slate for the Slate Pack.
She stopped several times along the way to chat with pack members who seemed to be everywhere at once. People stood outside of their homes, lingered in doorways of storefronts, and leaned out of open business entrances just to call her name or offer a nod of encouragement.
It felt strange. Overwhelming. Good.
She had never felt this welcomed anywhere before. Not like this. Not by so many at once.
By the time she reached the main lodge, her cheeks ached from smiling, and the tension in her shoulders had eased just a little. The building loomed before her, solid and familiar, smoke drifting lazily from one of the chimneys. She pushed through the front doors and stepped into the warmth, the scent of coffee and wood polish settling around her.
The receptionist behind the main desk smiled widely. “Oh, Nadia, it’s so good to see you.” The female came around the desk and grasped both of Nadia’s hands. Today Glynis wore a pretty pink flowered skirt and a yellow sweater, the colors bright and cheerful. Stylish brown boots peeked out beneath the hem, and her brown hair was piled high on her head. “This is so kind of you. I don’t know if anyone’s said how much we appreciate what you’re doing for the pack.”
“Yes, I’ve heard it all day,” Nadia said, her voice soft but sincere. “It’s nice to feel like I belong.”
“Of course you belong. You’re one of us.” Glynis pulled her into a quick, rose-scented hug. “Now go on into the conference room. There’s coffee, water, and soda. Would you like anything else?”
Nadia’s stomach rolled. “No, thank you. I’m really not hungry.”
“I don’t blame you. This is weird. Don’t worry. We’ll get past it.” Glynis gave her a gentle nudge around the counter.
Nadia stumbled and righted herself before walking down the hallway and turning into the largest conference room. She stopped short.
All four remaining challengers sat around the long slate table, eating donuts.
“Hello, dear,” Bussy said from the corner, where she stood beside her sister and Solomon.
Solomon wore a slate gray suit with a purple tie. The women had chosen slate-colored dresses with purple accents. They all matched. Nadia looked at them, momentarily thrown.
Bussy smiled. “We went with the theme of the day, which is slate. It’s so boring that we had to add some color, and we figured why not purple. Don’t you think?”
“Sure.” Nadia had absolutely no idea why any of it mattered. Her gaze snagged on Caidrik. He was studying her openly, his color fully returned, his posture relaxed but alert. She cleared her throat and forced herself to look at the other three. “How’s everybody feeling?”
“Fine,” Bulwark said shortly.
Isaac nodded. “Never better.” He glanced at Luca, suspiciousness in his gaze.
Luca lifted one shoulder in a loose shrug and winked at Nadia. “I honestly didn’t poison anybody. I wouldn’t stoop that low. I just don’t like tea.” He flicked a look toward the other males at the table. “I’m surprised you all drank it. It was fricking tea, gents.”
Nadia tried to center herself. Somehow.
The slate conference room table looked too tight for the number of males packed around it. The long table anchored the space, its smooth surface reflecting the overhead lights in dull bands. Donut boxes sat open and half-emptied, the sugary smell clashing with the tension crawling through the air.
Caidrik crossed his arms, his body language closing off as his eyes glowed faintly. He looked less like a hopeful Alpha and more like a brewing storm. “Could we get on with this?” he asked, his voice sharp.
“Why? Are you ready to die?” Bulwark drawled.
Caidrik turned his head slowly toward his brother. “It’s a good thing your father’s gone, or he’d be mourning you already.”
“You’ll meet your bastard father again before I see mine in hell,” Bulwark shot back.
“Enough.” Bussy snapped the word like a whip. She raised one hand. “Boys, please behave. So, you have to fight to the death. Big deal,” she went on briskly. “Get over it.”
Nadia stared at the older woman, disbelief tightening her chest.
Bussy shrugged. “Sorry, dear. Facts are facts.”
Solomon moved then, lifting the grimoire from a side table. The leather cover creaked softly as he placed it at the head of the conference table. The ladies flanked him automatically, forming a quiet wall of authority.
