Chapter Three
MATT
As Jesse made a break for it, Bryce shot out a hand and caught hold of Jesse’s wrist. Gently but firmly, he reeled him in, as Jesse shook with tension.
“It’s okay, Jesse,” Bryce said soothingly, not standing and crowding Jesse but not letting go of him either. “No one here’s going to hurt you.”
Christian growled, deep in his throat. “I repeat, have you seen—”
“Sit down, Christian.” Matt’s tone brooked no opposition, and Christian sulkily pulled out a chair and plunked down on it. Dave settled quietly beside him, his eyes on Jesse—as were everyone’s. Which wasn’t helping the tension in the room dissipate.
Matt kicked Jason’s foot under the table and indicated his plate. Jason got the message straightaway and went back to cutting his steak, catching Tristan’s gaze as he did so and sending a silent message, which went around the entire table until Jesse was no longer the center of attention.
Jesse looked defiant as he glared at Bryce, but the tremble of his limbs and the rabbiting pulse at his throat told a different story.
If Matt wasn’t mistaken, he was only seconds from shifting.
And wouldn’t that be fun, trying to restrain him in wolf form without injuring him or anyone else getting hurt.
“Jesse, sit down,” he said, his tone imbued with the same command he’d used on Christian.
Jesse’s chest was still rising and falling unevenly, but the innate need to obey an alpha won out, and he sat once more.
Matt looked over at the least-threatening member of his pack. “Jason, you want to do the honors?”
Jesse tensed even further when Jason pushed his chair back and stood, but he eased when Jason simply gave plates to Dave and Christian before noticing Jesse’s was empty and refilling it. That was some impressive speed with which Jesse had packed away his meal—even Tristan hadn’t finished yet.
Christian looked slightly less likely to lunge at Jesse, which Matt thought had more to do with Dave sitting beside him than because he was reconciled to Jesse’s presence.
Matt was willing to bet Dave had his hand on Christian’s thigh under the table.
Sometimes touch was the only way to get through to him.
Matt looked again at Jesse. He was terrified, though if it weren’t for Matt’s shifter-enhanced senses picking up his racing heart and shallow breaths, he probably wouldn’t be able to tell.
Jesse had done a good job at honing a defense that would fool most people.
If Matt didn’t settle him down quickly, Jesse would bolt again and more blood would be spilled.
Bryce grabbing Jesse might have been necessary, but it had shattered the illusion that Jesse was here by choice. Matt decided to acknowledge Jesse’s fears.
“You’re probably wondering why we’re feeding you,” he said. “If one of my pack knocks someone out—and to be honest, it’s usually Christian who does it—it’s kind of incumbent on the rest of us to make sure they’re fed, rested, and healed before heading out again.”
Christian glared at Matt’s words. Evidently, Jesse’s attack on Dave had wound him up even tighter than usual. And Jesse looked like he didn’t believe a word of what Matt had just said.
Matt’s wolf pushed again, demanding, but Matt didn’t have time to figure out what he wanted right now.
“Dig in,” Matt said to Jesse. Maybe after he’d eaten his fill, he’d lose some of that attitude, and Matt would be able to get to the bottom of where he was from and what he was doing here.
Matt would do that regardless of his attitude, but he’d like to take the easy option for once—it had been a long day at the State Council’s annual open meeting.
“Any news from the suits?” Bryce asked, as if he’d read Matt’s mind. The number of years they’d been friends, he probably had.
“The Durango pack’s got a new alpha, for whatever that’s worth,” Matt said. Not much, given how far away they were.
“Not too much of a surprise, given Diaz’s age,” Bryce commented.
“And the federal government’s making noises about cracking down on shifter death registrations, forcing us to go through the same official autopsies as non-shifters in the event of an unexpected death.” Matt stabbed at his food. “Like we want non-shifters poking around in our business.”
“The National Council will have something to say about that,” Tristan said. “They’ll never let it pass.”
“Hope not,” Bryce muttered.
Matt said nothing further. His pack was small and didn’t get involved in politics, but that wouldn’t save them if the balance of power changed. He knew only too well the cost when things went wrong. The weight of it still sat in his bones.
He wouldn’t let it happen here.
Jesse had taken advantage of Matt’s attention being elsewhere to pick up his silverware and start eating again, tearing into the food like a starving street dog. So much for thinking he was naturally that scrawny.
Matt turned his attention to his own meal, keenly aware of every member of his pack.
Bryce was doing a fine job of keeping Tristan’s attention by talking about ways the National Council might counter the government’s proposals.
Tristan had looked to be bursting with questions for Jesse, but the one thing he loved as much as college was politics, so he was safely diverted.
Meanwhile, Jason was as reserved as ever.
No one knew what he thought about anything except food, and they only knew that because he yelled at the TV whenever a cooking show was on.
Christian and Dave were lost in their own silent communication, Dave’s hand still on Christian’s leg beneath the table.
That left Matt. He was trying not to stare at Jesse because damn, he’d cleaned up nicely.
He’d like to see beneath the beard, but from what he could tell there was an angular jawline to go with the clearest blue eyes he had ever seen, eyes that suggested he’d already seen more than his share of the world.
And then there was the rest of him. Scrawny, sure, but he moved with a slinking grace that meant Matt’s libido, which had been dormant for years, was practically throwing a party at the peek of skin through the holes in Jesse’s worn jeans.
He had no business looking at Jesse like that.
No business noticing Jesse’s lips, and the way he’d flicked out his tongue to lick them when he’d finished his steak.
Or how his fingers curved around his silverware with a fluid grace that Matt found…
disturbing. He squeezed his eyes shut. Looking at Jesse was a bad idea. A very bad idea.
He thought instead about what Jesse had said, the holes in his story, and what they might mean for his pack.
His wolf knew as well as he did that something was wrong.
It wasn’t just a stranger in the middle of his pack.
It wasn’t just Jesse’s bite mark, bringing the threat of wolf-on-wolf violence to Matt’s door.
Something had changed with Jesse’s arrival that disturbed Matt.
All he knew for sure was that he didn’t like it.
* * *
Once the last dish had been cleared and coffee had been drunk by those who wanted it—which was everyone except Matt because he had enough problems sleeping without adding caffeine to the mix—Matt cleared his throat. Silence fell instantly.
“I want double patrols tonight,” he said. “Two of you out there at all times.”
Tristan leaned forward. “What’s going on?” he asked, mystified but evidently a little excited, too.
“We’ve gotten too lax,” Matt said bluntly. If a half-starved, wounded wolf could reach the middle of pack territory before being picked up, that was understating it. “You know your jobs. Get to it.”
The kitchen cleared as if by magic, except for Bryce. Seemingly, he was loading the dishwasher, though it was evident he was sticking around in case he was needed.
“As for you,” Matt said to Jesse. “I can’t risk you blundering into another pack’s territory given your track record. You’re staying here tonight.”
It was as good an excuse as any to make him stay until Matt had his answers. Jesse didn’t need to know there were no other packs nearby.
Jesse stiffened indignantly at the criticism before the rest of Matt’s words hit him, and he looked down swiftly, his teeth sinking into his lower lip.
Despite his submissive appearance, his eyes were flicking between Matt and Bryce as if he were calculating how to get out of the room without being stopped.
Matt swore quietly to himself. He probably should have made it sound like an invitation rather than an order.
It was pretty clear Jesse was worried about their intentions.
Matt would need to learn to handle him better.
And then he caught himself, because what the hell, Urban? Jesse was just passing through.
“You might want to do some laundry while you’re here,” Bryce said to Jesse’s bowed head.
Jesse whipped his head up. “You sayin’ I’m dirty?” he demanded indignantly.
“What I’m saying is you don’t know when you’ll next make the acquaintance of a washer. It makes sense, is all.”
“Hell, Bryce, you’re just tryin’ to get me out of my clothes. I heard what Urban said. You’ve got a reputation, don’t you?” Looked like Jesse believed the best form of defense was offense.
“That he does, Jesse,” Matt said, as Bryce spluttered. “Put your clothes in the washer, then I want to talk to you.”
Jesse huffed. “Y’know, for a guy who’s making me stay here, you could at least pretend I’m a guest rather than orderin’ me around.”
“That’s because you’re not a guest,” Matt replied evenly, not rising to the provocation. “You’re a security risk.”
Jesse muttered something under his breath that even Matt’s enhanced hearing didn’t catch. He didn’t need to hear it to be fairly sure it was an insult.
“I’ll show you the washer,” Matt said, standing.
Jesse hesitated a moment before getting to his feet. For an instant, Matt thought he was about to say something, maybe to ask something. But then he stood, and the moment was gone.
Matt showed him the laundry room—really just a mudroom with a washer and dryer stuffed into one corner—and found himself a shelf to tidy as Jesse dragged a meager collection of clothes from the duffel he’d scarcely taken his eyes from all meal.
Once the washer was going, Matt led Jesse to his den, where they wouldn’t be interrupted.