Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Rhodes
It was probably a bad idea to give this stranger my address. Then again, I’m in the middle of the woods, which is always my preferred place to be. Surrounded by trees and things I can hunt.
I don’t hunt in my backyard, though. You don’t spill blood where you sleep. That’s the saying, isn’t it?
I’m leaning against the doorframe of my open front door, watching the driveway as it bends around the trees and out of sight.
My father would not be impressed with this decision.
But then again, I’m a damn adult and can do whatever the fuck I want.
I’m not happy with a lot of my father’s decisions.
I don’t even know all their names. Thank fuck for small wins, I suppose.
Behind me, Velvet snarls. It starts low but gets louder.
“Schnookums,” I warn, and Velvet’s growling stops. “Stop harassing your packmate.”
Schnookums sneezes, which I always interpret as a huff of annoyance.
“Come here, sweet boy.”
He sits at my heel and points his face up. I love it when my babies do that. They don’t twist their heads to look at me straight on but point their heads straight up so they’re looking at me practically upside down. It never fails to make me smile.
I scratch Schnookums’ ear and down his neck. He’s my youngest pup at barely eighteen months. However, he trained the quickest. I think it helped that he had an entire pack to learn from, as well as me directing him.
He is still a puppy, though. “Okay. Let’s play while we wait, hm? Go get the balls, Schnookums.”
I swear, this damn dog grins as he jumps up and disappears further into the house.
Most dogs are incredibly intelligent. Humans make a mistake in thinking that just because an animal doesn’t have the same kind of communication humans do—verbal language—that they’re stupid. Humans are stupid for thinking so.
Animals have evolved as much as the human species.
They learn and adapt and survive in a world that we’re trying to kill.
Being able to create and deploy weapons doesn’t make us the more advanced species and them savages because they use their claws and teeth.
It makes us a stupid race. If we have one planet we know of that supports human life, and we destroy that planet, we’ve destroyed the human race as well.
It won’t be a lion or a wolf who does so, but humans themselves.
I admire wolves for this reason. There’s no need to speak with anything other than your teeth and claws. No need for a stronger, more lethal weapon.
Sometimes I wonder if that’s why we, as Van Doren killers, are trained with bladed weapons instead of firearms. There’s the obvious—the least likely ability to be traced when using a mass-produced kitchen knife as opposed to serial-marked bullets.
But we prove that we’re effective killers without the most sophisticated weapons. We don’t need to blow up an entire state to make a statement. I did just have the good governor of Florida executed, after all. I didn’t do it with a weapon or a bomb or anything else of that kind.
I did it with the strength of seven wolf dogs who listen to me like they’re on strings.
I kick off my shoes and tie my sneakers to my feet before stepping outside onto the front porch. Schnookums is right behind me, dragging with him the basket of various balls. Lee is on his heels with a towel in his mouth. Floofy Pants is already outside with my bat.
“Who’s first?” I ask as all seven dogs stick their heads into the basket for their favorite ball. Like my cousins and uncles, we all have a favorite.
Except a favorite dog. They’re all my favorites. You don’t love one child more than another.
Lovey Cakes drops a softball at my feet.
I pick it up, toss it into the air, and hit it with the bat as hard as I can.
She takes off in a sprint. Sugar gives me his football next.
I’m less skilled with a football than I am with hitting balls with bats.
But because Sugar has always loved the football best, I’ve taught myself how to throw one.
I point to the other end of the yard, and he starts running. I chuck it and whistle. “Perfect spiral. Why isn’t someone here to see this?”
For most every ball they bring me, I do best with the bat, including soccer balls and Sugar’s football.
Sometimes I’ll switch it up and kick the soccer balls, but usually I go for the bat.
While I can do it, we’ve learned the hard way that there’s no good way to hit a football with the bat because of its weird shape.
Lovey Cakes is back first with her softball. She drops it at my feet and begins running away, looking at me over her shoulder as I hit it. Half the pack is on their way back with their balls.
Like kids, my pack behaves because they get to play just as hard as they work. They are animals, and I appeal to their base natures. They play often. They receive a lot of affection. They eat very well. And they hunt regularly. This is the recipe for a well-disciplined, happy pack.
I know when my date has arrived. Not because I hear the engine, but because all seven dogs drop what they’re doing and pick their heads up. Seven sets of ears are alert. Then they’re racing toward me to establish their perimeter.
It’s training, sure. But I also like to think of it as love. They love me as much as I love them.
He’s… bigger than I thought he’d be. His profile claimed that he was a super happy person who always believes there’s good in every person and every situation.
While that abundance of happiness makes me want to vomit, I thought that was exactly what I needed for this weekend since I’m going to be a sour grape facing these people again.
I didn’t like them then, and I doubt I’ll like them now. All private boarding schools have dark secrets. Mine was no different.
I don’t know about everyone else, but when I think of a person with a gross amount of happiness, I always picture them small. Petite. A bright ray of sunshine coming out of a tiny body. As if they need a huge personality to make up for their small frame.
This man, Bennett, isn’t small. He’s at least as tall as I am.
He’s not even wearing cutesy clothes. He’s in jeans that fit him well and a long-sleeved shirt that also fits him well.
His hair is such a light blond that I imagine he spends a lot of time in the sun, given that his roots appear darker, as does his hint of rough facial hair and eyebrows.
His eyes are the first feature about him that caught my attention on the Heart2Heart app, though. They’re such a lovely shade of incredibly light blue. Or maybe green.
He’s staring at me, which is impressive already when I have seven enormous dogs surrounding me. Everyone’s attention goes to them. But not Bennett’s. He watches me. For some reason, that makes my heart flutter strangely.
Eventually, his eyes turn to where everyone’s do. My pack. However, unlike literally everyone else I have ever met, there isn’t unease, nerves, or fear. He breaks out into a huge smile. “They’re the most beautiful animals I’ve ever seen!” he says.
Huh. I wasn’t expecting that reaction. Neither were my babies. Lee’s ear twitches in my direction, as if he’s waiting for me to tell them to devour this man for not being afraid of them. I smirk.
“They are,” I agree. “I presume you’re Bennett?”
He nods, his smile still spread wide. “I am. When I read ‘must like dogs,’ I imagined some tiny little fluff balls. They’re so much better. Like how… regal.”
Sugar liked that word. His tail wiggles slightly.
“Go say hi,” I tell my pack.
Immediately, they’re all on their feet, tails wagging, mouths open with tongues lolling, ears relaxed though still alert. Always alert.
They surround Bennett, and I’m curious to see how he’s going to react.
Already, I’m not surprised when excitement makes him giddy.
He drops to his knees, which means most of my babies are taller than him now, and they surround him as he tries to reach out and pet them all.
He gets a face full of wet noses, making him laugh.
Noses go into his hair and neck and all over as they learn his smell.
I’m slightly misleading when I tell my babies to say hi. Yes, they’re more relaxed and given permission to be puppies, but they’re also instructed to learn the person’s scent. Just in case.
‘Go say hello’ tells them that these people are family and that, yes, learn their smells, but for a very different reason. We protect family at all costs. I want them to recognize family, too.
There’s also a third greeting I allow. ‘Say hi’ without the ‘go’ means that we’re not presenting a playful front.
No licks. No trying to make the other person comfortable.
We’re learning them more than we’re exchanging a greeting, while it still gives the other person the impression that there’s nothing to be concerned about.
I have a feeling I’ll be using that one a lot this weekend.
Bennett continues to pet them, hug them, and laugh. Honestly, I’m slightly hypnotized by it. This man has no fear of being surrounded by seven one-hundred-and-seventy-pound-plus beasts with long teeth and sharp claws. He laughs like they’re puppies.
Huh. I don’t hate that. No one is ever this comfortable around them.
Even when I’ve given them the ‘family’ blanket permission to relax.
Everyone is wary. Not that I blame them.
They’re big, intimidating creatures. But I can sometimes see how heartbroken my pups are when that person is nervous about their presence.
There are only a few people who aren’t. My father, my triplet cousins, my uncle Jalon, and my cousin Loren. In Loren’s case, I think that man simply lacks the ability to be fearful. It’s not a reflection on liking my babies.
“All right,” I call. “Get your bags.”
The dogs immediately break off, though Lovey Cakes sneaks in another kiss on the way by Bennett. Bennett gidday as if he just won the lottery with the smile he beams my way. He looks like he’s just been slobbered all over by my pack of wild dogs. His hair is standing up, and it’s freaking adorable.
“Are you ready?” I ask as he gets to his feet.
Bennett nods and gestures to the single small suitcase and even smaller backpack sitting at the edge of the driveway. “Is there a better place to park?”
“How about you put it in the garage?” I say as I take out my phone and open the home security app. One of my absolute favorite things is that my house is packed to the gills with technology. I’m pretty sure I can make the walls breathe.
I touch the button to open the garage. Bennett, still smiling, heads for his car as I move to the trunk of my vehicle and kick my foot under the back to open the hatch.
It’s a small cargo area since I purchased this vehicle specifically for the seven seats.
I’m capped at seven dogs unless I want to purchase a van.
I’m not sure I’m cut out to be a van dad, though. It doesn’t really go with my suits.
My babies come trotting out and load their bags into the trunk. Lee is first, hopping up on his hind legs with his front paws on the bumper to set his bag inside. He goes after Bennett’s rolling suitcase and masterfully rolls that thing toward me.
Floofy Pants joins him and gingerly picks up the small backpack, careful not to puncture the fabric with his teeth.
“They’re amazing,” Bennett says, awed.
I glance at Bennett. He’s not what I was expecting. “They are,” I agree. It’s not often that I’m pleasantly surprised.