Chapter 11
PROTECTIVE CUSTODY
Too many wolves around. They make my tail swish
and my nose itch.
I should probably plan escape tunnels for Mother and Gus.
— gus
Idon’t know how Max’s chemist buddy is able to analyze the tea so quickly, but just as I’m closing up the bakery for the night, I see flashing lights reflecting blue and red in my store window.
My heart stops. I reach for my phone, just in case, hand on my chest when Max parks his cruiser on the side of the street. He leaps out, jogging to the door.
I’m already scurrying around the side of the counter, racing to the door to unlock it before he can even form the first to bang on the glass.
I yank it open. “Max?”
“You’re coming with me.”
What? “Why?”
“Because your instincts were spot-on, Honey. The tea you gave me was poisoned. It had silver in it. Wolfsbane. Chamomile and nightroot powder.”
Chamomile makes sense. Like Abigail said, it helps with nerves.
Nightroot powder is a little different. My grandmother has a very small jar of it.
Deep violet when the normally blue leaves are ground down, just a pinch is enough to activate ‘dream’ spells.
I don’t mess with those. I’m only a quarter-witch, and they are well out of my league.
Dream spells are a supe’s answer to human drugs.
They lift you up, and if the witch casting the spell knows what they’re doing, they’re harmless; if the witch doesn’t, the crash is brutal.
A tea with those four ingredients would have you smiling and at peace as you shuffle your way off the mortal coil so long as you’re a supe. One mug means death.
In Abigail’s case, not even a full mug did.
And she gave me a sachet.
Did she mix this herself? She was a doe shifter, but I know better than anyone that you can appear to be one thing while being something else. I faked being a full witch for months when I’m three-quarters opossum. Maybe Abigail had witchblood, too, but if she did? It didn’t save her.
If I was a tea drinker, it wouldn’t have saved me, either.
“I didn’t make that. I mean, Abigail gave it to me last night. She said it would help with the nerves that prey shifters get living in a town full of predators.”
“Nerves?” Max cocks his head slightly. “Do I make you nervous, Killer?”
Yes, but not the way he thinks—especially when he growls a little as he calls me by that nickname.
Since this is the worst possible moment to mention that, I shake my head.
“I didn’t plan on drinking that tea. Not a florally tea person here.
” And even if it didn’t have a strong scent—thank you wolfsbane—I’m not a fan of chamomile…
or dying “If I knew it was poisoned… I would’ve told Abigail not to drink it, either. But she said she made it.”
“If she made it, she must have known it was poison,” Max muses, letting me off the hook when it comes to answering his question. “But she drank it.”
“Doesn’t mean she wanted to. Doesn’t mean someone didn’t swap out a clean batch for poison.”
He nods, thinking over my suggestion—and then he frowns. “But she would’ve still tried to poison you.”
Yeah. It’s kind of hard to deny that part.
“And that’s why you’re coming with me.”
I don’t understand. “But I didn’t do it! You can’t arrest me.”
Max firms his jaw. “I’m not arresting you. I’m taking you into protective custody.”
Protective custody, as it turns out, means being ferried away to the heart of Moonshadow Pack land, and given a spare bedroom in Max’s Alpha cabin.
He gave me a minute to argue before pulling the Alpha card.
He doesn’t even go straight to being Sheriff Lobo.
He’s Max, the most powerful wolf in Moonburrow, and if he wants to keep me safe, he’s going to keep me safe.
His wolf insisted on it, and when his dominance poured off of him, I didn’t even bother to keep up the fight.
Instead, I made it a point to tell him that Gus was coming with me—Max smartly didn’t push back on that—before saying we’d need ten minutes to pack everything we would need for an extended stay.
I thought about reminding him that I would need to be back at work tomorrow at five in the morning, but I decided that I would keep that surprise to myself.
I should’ve known better. By the time I had pack two small overnight bags—one with a couple of changes of clothes and toiletries for me, another with everything Gus might need—
By order of the sheriff of Moonburrow, Dough You Believe in Magic will be closed until further notice.
I’d quirked any eyebrow at him, clamping my teeth together.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “This way nobody in town thinks that you’re another victim.”
Oh, no. But they’ll sure as hell figure out that the sheriff has a vested interest in me. For good or for bad, I’m not staying off anybody’s radar anymore.
Go Honey. Whee!
I tried not to pout too much as Max drives Gus and me toward the far edges of Moonburrow. Gus sat on my lap, both curious and wary. I haven’t figured out what Gus thinks of Max yet, though I remember the way that Gus was letting Max pet him.
Hm. Maybe my sidekick was showing me a hint of his approval, too.
I honestly didn’t believe that Max was really going to put us up in his actual cabin. That’s… I know enough about a wolf pack that what he’s insisting on… it’s unusual.
An Alpha cabin is more than just a house for the pack leader.
It’s a symbol of his position at the top of the pack.
Wolves think of their hierarchy as a triangle.
The Alpha is the point at the top. Next comes the Beta, followed by Gammas, the older enforcers that have retired after protecting the pack.
Deltas make up the bulk of a wolf pack; they’re the rank-and-file members with varying levels of dominance.
In Moonburrow, there is one final tier: everyone else. Specifically, prey shifters and witches, since no matter how powerful we might be in our own ways, the wolves will always see us as weaker than them.
All Alpha cabins are basically split in two and his is no exception.
One side belongs to Max and only Max; the only exception being, of course, his invited guests.
It’s his private territory, and to encroach on it is basically a challenge to his authority as Alpha.
We don’t have many challenges among opossums. With the adrenaline ramping up too high, we tend to drop before finishing a fight, so an opossum challenge would be pretty anticlimactic.
Wolf challenges? Predators? They’re a completely different story.
Mercy is a rarity. To let your opponent walk away, it’s a sign that an Alpha won’t do whatever he must to hold his seat.
If you can’t trust an Alpha to quash a challenge, it’s easy to start second-guessing whether he’ll protect you when it counts.
Eventually, even if the first challenger gives up, there will be plenty more to take their place.
So, yeah. No one goes in that side of the cabin.
The smaller half, however, is what they refer to as the pack den.
It’s a place where all packmates can go and petition Max for whatever help they need.
That’s communal space, and I figured he would set me and Gus up on a spare couch in the den all the way up until he helps me and Gus out of the cruiser, leading us to the front door on the larger half.
I drag my feet. It doesn’t work. His hand is on my shoulder, giving me the subtle nudge I need to take the path toward his entrance.
He shoves in the door. It’s not locked. Of course it’s not. Who would even think about trying to rob the Alpha?
I gulp, clutching Gus to me. He squeaks when I squeeze him more than I should. Murmuring an apology under my breath, I loosen my hold, then peer up at Max. “Are you sure this is okay?”
He keeps his other hand where it is, guiding me inside. “I’m the Alpha. I want you here. That’s all that matters.”
A shiver jerks down my spine.
“It’s alright, Killer. You’re safe here. As long as you’re under my protection, no one can get to you.”
It takes everything I have to keep all of my blood from rushing to my face. I’m a prey shifter. Letting a predator—letting an Alpha—be responsible for my safety is part of the gig. But it’s not just any predator, it’s my fated mate, and he’s leading me into his house.
I haven’t felt like I was going to faint in days, and while I manage to stay standing, it’s a little touch and go for a second there.
The house smells of Max. Of pine and richness, a masculine musk and mine. The cabin is decorated to suit him: everything is in shades of chocolate, something that soothes my baker’s heart.
“There’s a murderer on the loose.”
I quirk my lips in a crooked grin. “Are you sure you didn’t invite her into your territory?”
The look he gives me has my knees turning to jelly. “Yes, Honey. I’m sure.”
Oh. I blink. My knees are weak, but they’re not really wobbly. Not like I’m about to play possum. I’m still on my feet, and if my inner beast had her way, I’d be sleeping in Max’s bed tonight.
I shake my head. Right. Spare guestroom. “So where should I—”
A knock raps against the thick wooden door. Max was already turning to unlock it, his senses giving him an advance warning that we were about to have a guest.
Tugging in the door, I peek around Max. Standing on the porch, wearing enough expensive-looking silk shirt and pressed trousers set, is Riordan, the Moonburrow deputy and Moonshadow Pack Beta.
He nods at Max. “The pack council is waiting for you.”
If it was bad enough that I was going to have to sleep in the Alpha cabin tonight, add that to being told that my presence was expected at the pack meeting next door.
There were at least ten different wolves waiting for Max and Riordan to join them. I slipped in, hoping that all of the predators wouldn’t notice the two prey animals—one wild, one a shifter—among them. Yeah, right. I had shifter eyes flashing at me from all directions.
Gus is on my shoulder. I reach up, laying my palm on his rump, comforting both of us as I shuffled to the other side of the room.
It’s much less furnished than the Alpha cabin.
I see one large desk tucked near the back of the room, a seat behind it, and two seats in front of it.
Max takes the seat behind the desk. No one sits in the visitors chairs.
I almost do, but figure putting a little distance between me and Max might be a good idea right now.
Once he’s sitting, he gets right to business. Gesturing at each of the wolves in turn, he gives me a name and rank as though we’re part of the human military and not a shifter pack. They each nod—to Max, not me—and I wonder what the hell is going on.
Until he gets to the last one, and I’m suddenly distracted.
“And, of course, you’ve already met Riordan Lobo, Pack Beta.”
Lobo.
Lobo.
“Riordan’s your brother?” I blurt out. “I thought he was the Beta.”
“Yes. I just said that.”
Duh. “And the deputy.”
“He is.”
But he’s his brother?
I turn on him, trying to look past the slick facade.
Max doesn’t like it. “What are you staring at?”
“You’re making me blush,” Riordan dead-pans.
I want to hush them both as I focus. Instead, I say almost distractedly, “He’s handsome—”
Yeah. Wrong thing to say because, suddenly, Max growls and the tension in the air cranks up.
Crap. “No.” I smile over at the Alpha before I think better of it. “You’re handsome, too, Max.”
“Max?” Riordan raises his eyebrows. “Getting friendly with the suspect, are you?”
“She’s not a suspect,” he glares at his brother. “She’s in protective custody.”
I’m almost choking on the testosterone. Phew.
The rest of the wolves are smart enough to keep out of it. You think I would be, too.
Nah.
“Okay. I’m trying to figure this out.” I point at Max, then Riordan, then Max again. “Who’s older?”
Riordan juts out his chin. “Me.”
And he’s an alpha wolf. A dominant alpha wolf. He buries it well, especially when he’s next to Max, but if he’s any less dominant than his younger brother, I’ll walk around with Gus’s beloved bag of flour on my head and call it my new hat.
I screw up my face, trying to figure it out.
To my right, Max’s growl turns into a snarl.
What the—
I leap back, heart thudding wildly as my head shoots over to the normally stoic sheriff. He has fangs out, claws on display. His eyes are more of a molten lava than dark gold, his wolf riding him so hard, it’s like he’s seconds away from shifting on the spot.
He’s losing control. I was focusing on his brother, and Max looks like he wants to rip out his throat.
My leap backward helps. Putting some distance between me and Rioran does more to keep Max in his seat. He clears his throat, but it doesn’t matter. He snarled and we all heard it.
He snarled, like a protective wolf warning other males away from his mate.
Uh-oh…
If that realization wasn’t bad enough, Gus suddenly jumps off of his perch on my shoulder, landing with a soft thump as he hits the wooden floor. Quick as a flash, he moves through the gathering of predators like a shark slicing through the ocean.
With the rest of the wolves watching, Gus hooks his tiny claws in Max’s jeans, climbing up his leg, jumping off of his thigh, and landing expertly in the middle of his desk. Then, whirling around, he rears up and starts chittering in warning at Max.
Huh. I guess Gus isn’t a big fan of seeing Max’s jealousy. Me… I’m all for it, but I don’t think I’d like to see how the Alpha will react when a wild opossum starts chewing him out
I take a step forward.
“If that creature had thumbs, I’d think it would stab you, Max,” remarks Riordan with obvious interest.
I hurry the rest of the way toward the desk.
Gus shows his hind foot to Max, then swishes his tail. Yes, bud. I know opossums have opposable thumbs on their rear feet, plus a prehensile tail that’s perfectly capable of wrapping around a small knife. Given the right motivation, I think my sidekick would totally stab my mate.
I scratch his chin before scooping him up, cradling him against my sweater. “Remember, Gus, we’re guests here.”
Or prisoners. I’m not so clear on that part yet.
“You’re also in danger,” Max reminds me. “Moonshadow, this is Honey Morgan. And I hold each and every one of you responsible for making sure she’s not the third murder in Moonburrow.”