My parents weren’t loving. They were troubled. Abusive when they drank, and they drank often. Their erratic and belligerent behavior made my life hell. It got us ostracized from our pack. Since I was their offspring, I too was shunned. Because of that, being part of a pack isn’t something I’ve everexperienced. Instinctively, I know I shouldwantto be a part of a pack, but I prefer my freedom.
Once I have my things in the apartment, I head out to get some food and drink. The Fox & The Kettle’s neon sign glows in the distance two blocks up. Outside the scent of other wolves is much stronger. The musky traces hang in the chilled air, mixed with pine and snow.
This place is claimed. I can feel it. It’s always stressful entering another pack’s territory because you’ll be approached at some point by the alpha. Although, the sense I have of this local pack is that they’re stable. Their leader must be a calming influence on them because there’s no overt aggression coming at me from the shadows.
The Fox & The Kettle turns out to be exactly the kind of place I need tonight. Inside, dark wood, low lighting, and classic rock greets me. The walls are lined with local photos and memorabilia, everything from old ski equipment to vintage license plates. It smells of beer, burger grease, and decades of wolves marking their territory.
The bartender is a wolf, tall and broad-shouldered with salt-and-pepper hair and muscled forearms. His scent carries quiet confidence, the kind that comes from belonging to an established pack that has his back. He sets a menu in front of me with a smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes.
“What can I get you?” he asks.
“I’d love a beer. What do you have on tap?” He rattles off several options and I choose one from a local brewery. “Are you still serving food?”
“Yep.” He gestures to the menu. “We’re out of chicken wings but we have everything else.”
“I heard from Ellie Whitaker that the burgers are good here.”
He smirks. “They are. Best burger in Golden Peak.”
“Then I’ll have a cheeseburger and fries, please.”
He takes the menu back. “I’ll put your order in.” Before he disappears into the back he gets me my beer.
I take a sip of the cold brew, aware the humans and wolves are all staring. I feel their curiosity like an itch between my shoulder blades. I’ll need to get used to life in a small town. Pack politics mean more here. In the bigger cities like where I came from, the packs don’t have the influence they do in the rural areas. There are too many packs in a big city. It’s hard for any one group to win dominance in that situation. But in a small town like Golden Peak, there will be one main pack that’s above all the others.
There’s a group of wolves at a corner table that I suspect belong to the dominant local pack. They’re not subtle about hiding their interest in me. They’re openly watching me while they talk in low voices. Every now and then they’ll laugh loudly at something, and I suspect it has something to do with me.
The beer is better than I expected, rich and complex. My nerves have me drinking faster than intended, so by the time my burger arrives my mug is empty. Jim notices my empty glass and lifts his brows.
“Another?” he asks.
“Uh, sure,” I respond, popping a fry into my mouth. It’s hotter than expected and it sears the inside of my mouth. I can’t help wincing.
Jim’s lips twitch and he goes to get me my other beer.
A wolf slides onto the stool next to me. He’s probably in his mid-thirties, nice looking with brown hair and mossy green eyes. “You’re new in town.” It’s not a question. I’m sure in a small town like this any stranger sticks out.
I nod. “Yep.”
“I’m Steve.” He holds out his hand, his smile flirtatious.
Reluctantly, I take his hand. “Jude.” I didn’t come to the bar to get laid. I just wanted some food and a beer. But Steve is on the hunt it seems.
“Buy you another drink?” he asks.
“I’m good, thanks.” I keep my eyes on my plate, but he doesn’t take the hint.
“Come on, let me show you a little hospitality.” He nudges my arm. “How about a shot of whiskey to go with your beer?”
I grit my teeth. I don’t want to be rude, but I just want to eat my burger and drink my beer in peace. But since there’s no polite way to say that, I say nothing.
Undeterred by my cold shoulder, he asks, “Are you just passing through?”
“No.” I meet his curious gaze. “You?”
“I’ve lived here for three years.” His gaze drops to my mouth. “It can get a little lonely sometimes.”
You’re not too subtle are you Steve?
