Fights like theirs didn’t flare so much as loop, circling onto the same dumb arguments, with one of them often looking for a reason. One would say something stupid. The other would respond in kind. And sooner or later, they’d be paying for a new table or something. Lachlan had to pay for a wall once, after his magic put a hole in it. Not a huge hole, but enough to require some patching. As the beloved Mayor, he’d always comply.
Rex had a temper; he wasn’t above admitting it. But he was the Alpha.
Always fair.
Always available.
Always even-minded.
It was his role, and he accepted it without a second thought or regrets. But sometimes, these fights with Lachlan, someone strong enough to take whatever he gave without flinching and give it back twice as hard, kept him sane.
Tonight, the dumb fight of choice had been Lachlan, cheating.
Rex knew it. He’d felt the air tingling with magic, watched as the ball moved and settled somewhere it hadn’t been after Lachlan’s shot. His eyesight was excellent. His instincts were better. The damn wizard had done it right in front of him and still stood there, arms crossed, looking as if honor was the point at issue.
Which it totally was.
Rex exhaled through his nose, then straightened. “Right,” he said. “Then let’s do this properly. Since you didn’t move it–” He reached out and nudged the eight ball back with one finger, enough to put it clearly out of range. “There,” Rex said, baring his teeth in something that wasn’t quite a smile. He met Lachlan’s heated stare unblinking. “Didn’t move it either. Guess we’re even now.”
The bartender swore under his breath.
Lachlan’s expression went still.
“Don’t,” Rex commanded in a growl as Lachlan’s fingers flexed. Light gathered there anyway. Nothing flashy, it was more like a tight glow seeping from his palms, threads of energy curling between his knuckles like heat rising off stone.
Rex’s lips peeled back before he could stop them. His wolf surged, all teeth and territory, demanding release. Teach the mayor a lesson. Show him what happened when magic forgot its manners. The growl in Rex’s chest was no longer for show; it vibrated through the table, through the floor, through the wood beneath their feet for all to feel.
“You want to do this here?” Rex said, voice rough, barely human now. His claws pricked at his fingertips, the shift itching. “Because you know it won’t be subtle.”
Lachlan’s eyes burned, magic bright in his hands, offended and furious and absolutely ready. “Ye touched the ball.”
Rex stepped closer, heat rolling off him in waves. “You touched itfirst.”
The bartender rolled his eyes. The bar went very quiet. Not with fear, because they all knew how these things went. Someone was probably taking bets.
But then the TV cut to a cheerful gardening commercial: bright tools turning soil, an upbeat voice promising tobring plants back to life. Lachlan’s gaze snagged on it, his focus now completely shifted. “Wait,” he said.
Rex growled.
Lachlan lifted a hand, already turning away from the table. “Hold on. There’s somethin’ I forgot to tell ye.”
The growl deepened.
“Oh, stop that, ye arse.” Lachlan moved around the table, brisk now, dropping the balls back into the triangle with hurried movements. He was all business now, actively resetting the entire situation. “Ye know Zoe Greenwood?”
The question was odd enough to cut through Rex’s temper. He blinked. “Who doesn’t?”
“Well,” Lachlan said, straightening, “apparently the lass’s having issues.”
That got his attention.
As Alpha of the pack—and liaison for most of Mystic Hollow’s shifters—Rex handledissues. A lot of them. But Miss Greenwood had no magic, no shifting, no official ties to anything supernatural. “And I should be involved because?”
“Because she caters to the pack,” Lachlan said mildly. “And the shifters, and us witches, and the people. And apparently she thinks something’s going on with the plants in the forest. Enough that she plans to investigate.”
Rex frowned. “How do you even know this?”
“She talked to Jade earlier today. Jade talked to Aryon. Aryon talked to me.”
