Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
LEON
Joaquim was waiting for Leon when he returned to where he’d left his clothes.
“Luna wants you,” he said. Brief and professional, as if he were keeping his distance. Leon didn’t blame him—Luna’s displeasure wasn’t to be incurred lightly, and he was pretty certain that was what would be waiting for him.
He shifted back, and dressed quickly, not wanting to keep her waiting any longer than he had to. Once he explained, she’d understand why he’d done what he had. He hadn’t hurt anyone, and Tristan had needed a wake-up call. They all had.
He knocked once on the den door and pushed it open.
Luna and Matt both turned at his entrance. Tristan was there too, looking unfairly blameless, young, and extremely interested in his shoes.
And Karl. He was leaning against the fireplace like a statue someone had carved to illustrate fury and restraint.
His arms were folded, but not in comfort—they were containing him, his whole body coiled and still, like a controlled explosion that was already in progress.
Leon had the absurd thought that even Karl’s shadow looked pissed off.
He stepped inside with deliberate ease, but his chest tightened. Luna didn’t meet his eyes, which meant she was angry. Really angry. If she were in cat form, he’d be getting a swipe across his muzzle, claws most definitely unsheathed. He tucked his hair behind his ear.
The silence stretched.
She met his gaze, finally. “Did you attack one of our hosts?”
The question was cool and neutral, but her eyes were smoldering.
“No,” he said. “I didn’t hurt him.”
“You jumped on him from a tree,” Matt said quietly.
“I was making a point,” Leon said. “He wasn’t paying attention. He was vulnerable.”
“Was he your target?” Matt asked.
Leon frowned. “What?”
“Did you go looking for him, or was he just the unlucky one to walk past your tree?”
“I wasn’t looking for anyone,” Leon said, through clenched teeth. “I was minding my business. Which, by the way, is ensuring the safety of the queen of all the cats.” He looked squarely at Matt. “And he needed to learn. Now, he’ll always remember to look up.”
Tristan’s cheeks flared a deep, dusky red, and he still didn’t tear his gaze from his shoes, while Karl growled, low and threatening in a way that sent a completely inappropriate shiver down Leon’s spine.
“You couldn’t have gotten his attention any other way than by jumping on top of him?” Luna asked, the vibration in her voice betraying her fury.
Knowing he mustn’t undermine her status in front of them, he didn’t make the first retort that rose to his lips—you really think jaguars can whistle? The worst of it was, she’d have no problem if he’d pulled this move when schooling a cat.
“He was paying no attention to anything around him,” he said, frustrated. How come the wolves’ shortcomings were his fault?
Karl’s voice cut in, low and lethal. “He was on a run, off-duty. Clearing his head.”
Leon blinked. “He wasn’t patrolling?”
“No.”
Shit. He kept his expression still as he processed the information. Okay, maybe he’d fucked up just a little. But the reasoning still held—Tristan hadn’t been paying attention. And that put Tristan, Luna, and Jesse at risk.
“So what was I supposed to do?” he asked. “Let him wander around with his head in the clouds? We’re guests here, sure, but if one of ours made that mistake—”
Luna’s voice sliced in. “Then we’d handle it. I would handle it.”
Leon inclined his head slightly, accepting the rebuke with poor grace.
Karl stepped forward, almost involuntarily it seemed, from the way he forced himself still again. “You scared him.”
Leon’s gaze snapped to Karl. His reaction to Karl’s accusation should have been anger. But damn it, Karl was incandescent, and gorgeous with it. All that power, just barely leashed, darkening his eyes even further. Leon’s body betrayed him with a low spark of heat.
Well, that was a problem.
He dragged his attention back to Luna. “I didn’t intend harm,” he said. “I made a judgment call. It was the wrong one, and I regret that.”
That was as close to an apology as he could give while still keeping his spine intact.
Luna’s expression didn’t soften, but she nodded. “Thank you.”
She looked to Matt, who spoke next. “Then I think you owe Tristan a word.”
Luna flicked her gaze toward the door, and he knew he was dismissed. There were things he wanted to say, but not here, in front of wolves. The most important thing right now was for wolves and cats to have a united front against the potential threat to all shifters.
He had to tell himself that through gritted teeth, but he knew it was true. That was also, possibly, the only reason Karl was holding himself back with such effort, because it was very clear he’d like to rip Leon’s head off. Or try, anyway. Good luck with that, wolf.
He moved toward the door, the weight of Karl’s gaze on his back blistering and ice-cold all at once. And that spark in his gut? Still there. Still a problem.
Matt said, “Karl,” holding the wolf in place. Leon couldn’t tell if he was relieved or disappointed that Karl didn’t follow him out.
He paused in the empty kitchen, and Tristan slid cautiously past him, looking as if he didn’t know what to do with himself. He wasn’t the only one. Leon crossed his arms, instinctively guarding against the awkwardness closing in. He wasn’t good at this part. Talking, explaining—apologizing.
But Tristan offered him a small, sheepish smile. “You know,” he said, voice mild, “it never even occurred to me to look up.”
Leon blinked. He’d expected resentment or cold politeness. Maybe even a little fear. Not the way Tristan had his head on one side as if simply considering new information.
He was watching Leon, not with suspicion or wounded pride but curiosity. “I always scan the air around me, searching for scents and listening for sounds. I thought I was pretty alert.”
“You are,” Leon said, before he could think better of it. “To wolves. Not to cats.”
Tristan’s lips twitched in an almost-smile. “Well. I’m definitely going to be more aware now. That was… memorable.”
Leon gave a huff of laughter. “Not the word I’d use.”
“I’d also accept humiliating,” Tristan added cheerfully. “But effective.”
That undid the tight resentment in Leon’s chest. He hadn’t done anything wrong, just perhaps slightly mistimed. The fact Tristan had been off-duty… Maybe, in the heart of his pack territory, with the security Karl had put in place, he hadn’t been wrong to be relaxed. Not completely.
“My grandpa taught me about looking up,” he said. “He used to say some of the best details are above your line of sight—roof carvings, gargoyles, even fancy lamp posts. The things most people miss.” He paused for an instant. “Threats, too.”
Tristan nodded slowly. “Makes sense. I just wouldn’t have thought of it if I hadn’t heard or scented anything. Not in a million years.”
His cheeks were still slightly flushed, but there wasn’t a trace of malice or lingering defensiveness in him. Just openness, as if he were the kind of guy who learned from his mistakes.
Leon had learned to look for knives hidden in smiles and claws buried in kindness. He didn’t know what to do with someone like Tristan.
So he did the only thing he could think of. “Coffee?” he asked, jerking his chin toward the pot.
Tristan beamed. “Thought you’d never ask.”
He moved aside to make room, and for a moment, as their shoulders brushed, Leon had the strangest thought—wolves might be ridiculous, but they weren’t weak.
And he was going to have to stop underestimating them. Starting now.
KARL
Karl had checked half the perimeter already. Not because it needed doing—Dave and Christian were on top of things—but because he needed to do something that wasn’t wrapping his hands around a damn cat’s throat.
Not just any cat. That cat.
The memory of Leon’s face, unapologetic, infuriatingly cool, beautiful in that too-sharp way, had been in his head ever since the den. So had Luna’s voice, quiet but razor-edged. Then we’d handle it. I would handle it.
He had to admit that she had. The dressing-down had been clean and public, and no less loaded for being quiet. It was clear there’d be no repeat offense. But still. It had happened.
Karl passed the edge of the barn and stopped short. Leon stood in the open space between two outbuildings, back to him, arms folded, head tilted slightly as if listening to something distant.
The worst part? He looked peaceful. Not at all like someone who left chaos in his wake.
Karl made sure his boots crunched on the dirt as he approached. Leon didn’t turn, and Karl clenched his fists. Calm, he reminded himself. Calm, like that fucking cat.
“You planning on ambushing anyone else today?” he asked, voice flat. “Or is your superiority complex satisfied for now?”
Leon faced him fully then. There was no visible tension in him, but Karl could feel the readiness in every line of his body.
“No more ambushes,” Leon said. “Not today.”
Karl snorted. “Gracious of you.”
They stared at each other for a long moment.
Neither moved, and Karl’s jaw began to ache from clenching.
He wanted to shove Leon, just to see if he’d stumble, or if he’d land on his feet like cats always did.
He wanted to shake him. He wanted—God, he didn’t even know what he wanted, except to get Leon out of his head.
Karl should have walked away. Should have said his piece and gone. Instead, something kept him rooted. Probably the absolute nerve of Leon standing there like he hadn’t done anything wrong. Like he’d been right. As if the pack’s security had needed his intervention.
“Do you think you’re the only one who cares about keeping people safe?” Karl demanded.
“No,” Leon said. “But I know what it feels like to be the only one paying attention.”
That hit harder than Karl expected, because he knew that feeling. Only too well. Damn cat somehow knew the way to get under his skin without even trying.
“If you want to watch our flank while you’re guarding your queen, that’s fine,” he said tightly. “But you don’t get to interfere with the pack in any way. If you have any concerns about our security, bring them to me.”
“I’ve already got one team to manage,” Leon said, completely unconcerned by the threat in Karl’s voice. “Could do without another.”
Karl couldn’t help it. He laughed. It was short and humorless, but real. “Jesus. You’re impossible.”
Leon’s mouth curved, just a little. “You’re not exactly a warm hug and a hot cocoa yourself.”
It was all Karl could do not to snarl. Fucking cat was mocking him.
“Good,” he said tightly, as he turned away. “That’s not in the job description.”
“I didn’t mean to scare him,” Leon said.
It was just enough to make Karl pause. Not an apology, but close. “He didn’t seem scared afterward,” Leon added.
“He didn’t show it,” Karl corrected. “That’s not the same.”
They stared at each other again, then Karl moved away. “Stay away from my pack,” he said, and strode up the hill.
He could feel Leon’s gaze on him the entire way—quiet, deliberate, unblinking. Like the cat he was.