Chapter One #2
With currently three packs to manage, in addition to his own, Dominic now understood why his father looked so haggard and weary each night.
At least one large pack was due to leave any day now, if things ran smoothly for once.
One satisfying aspect of his job was seeing those scared and nervous shifters leave town for a new permanent home, with the hope for a better future.
With Dominic’s numerous connections that he also inherited from his father, the relocated packs were given every resource they needed to start a new life after their old one fell apart. Hunter threats, rival packs, land disputes, the death of a former alpha—he’d seen it all.
When Dominic heard the store door open and the tinkling of the bell, he had to bite his lips to suppress a wolfish snarl. The faint scent of the guest drifted into the shop with the fresh morning air, and he recognized it was Hank, the beta of his pack.
Hank had been like a surrogate father when Malcolm was away on pack business, but their relationship went to a whole other level as soon as Dominic became Hank’s superior in everything but age and knowledge.
There was no resentment, but a kind of unspoken expectation on Hank’s part that Dominic couldn’t decipher.
It was as if the beta watched his every move, waiting for a chance to correct him, just like Malcolm used to.
Maybe it had something to do with all the boyish pranks Dominic pulled as a kid that made Hank a little stricter these days.
“I know you’re here,” Hank’s deep voice boomed from the front of the store. By the tone of his New York accent, Dominic could tell that he was in no mood for games this morning. “We’ve got a problem.”
Dominic rubbed his tired, bloodshot eyes and stiffly rose from his chair. He made his way through the network of vintage furniture and bookcases toward the front of the store. “What is it?”
“It’s Nathan,” Hank replied. “He’s at it again.”
Dominic groaned as he rounded a corner of curio cabinets.
He wanted to get a good look at Hank’s face to see if he was joking, but there wasn’t a hint of humor in his dark eyes.
Even the way the corners of his lips curved downward into a deep frown told Dominic that the troublemaking shifter was just as much of a bane to him as his alpha.
Nathan Hardy, a shifter from that larger pack Dominic expected to leave Tolstone soon, just couldn’t stay out of mischief.
“What did he take this time?”
“A couple of goats from Mrs. Jordan’s farm.”
If he didn’t know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Hank was completely serious, he might have laughed.
At least it wasn’t a horse like last time.
Some shifters, like Nathan, came to town and couldn’t settle for the store-bought meat or the freshly butchered animals from the local farms. Their wolves craved the hunt.
That had the potential to blow everyone’s cover.
“And where’s Wyatt?” Dominic asked, crossing his arms to mimic Hank.
The beta shrugged his broad, muscular shoulders. “Don’t know. Can’t find him. I’ve tried calling his cell, but it always goes to voicemail. Xavier said he might be out looking for a new town, but you know how far I’d believe that tall tale.”
Yes, he did, and it was just as much as Dominic believed it.
Not at all. Wyatt Ratner’s pack of ten had been in Tolstone for six months, far longer than any pack was usually permitted to stay.
After they were forced out of their previous territory near Springfield by a rival pack, they came to Dominic looking for a place to regroup and assess their options.
It should have been Wyatt’s responsibility as the alpha of his own pack to manage wolves like Nathan, but lately, the man wasn’t around for jack-shit.
Lately, it seemed that Wyatt’s pack made up the majority of Dominic’s workload when it came to managing the shifters of Tolstone.
Additionally, since he had become Prime Alpha, no other transient pack had given him this much trouble.
Picking fights with other shifters, causing a disturbance among the humans of Tolstone, stealing, damaging property—you name it.
The pack seemed to be full of bad apples.
Dominic ground his teeth and nodded. “Where was he last seen?”
Hank jerked his head toward the door. “On the other side of Jade Lake.”
He pulled out the store keys from his pocket. “After this, I’m done for the day.”
His beta slid him a disapproving look. “An alpha is never done. If we need you—”
“I know, I know.” Dominic waved off the rest of the lecture that Hank repeated like a Catholic prayer. “If an alpha is needed, he must go to his pack. I get it.” If only the other alphas would get with the program and take care of their own.
Hank bit back whatever reproof he was ready to give and opened the door.
“I just feel like I need a break, that’s all.” Dominic not only felt the fatigue in his body but in his very soul. “A really long break.”
“If Wyatt was close by, you know I’d get him to take care of it.”
After they stepped onto the covered sidewalk, Dominic jammed the key back into the lock.
“Yeah, I know. The last time you tried to talk Nathan down, he nearly took off your head.” He struggled with the mechanism but managed to turn the key after a few tries and tested the handle to make sure all was secure.
The beta, in a rather comedic move, shivered. “Damn, that boy just isn’t right in the head.”
Dominic cracked a smile and pocketed his keys before he turned with his beta to make their way across the square. At least it was a beautiful, clear morning in Tolstone.
*
Erica had never ventured farther than the picket fence whenever she and her mother drove by the old house on Crescent Lane.
Standing on the sidewalk, staring up at the Victorian-era masterpiece, she once more couldn’t believe it was the same house from her childhood.
She remembered pressing her forehead against the passenger side window and gazing up at the turret on the left corner of the house, likening it to one of the fairy-tale castles in her storybooks back home.
The once neatly trimmed lawn was overgrown with weeds and tall grasses.
The dingy white fence with its evenly spaced pickets was broken in some places, and the raw wood splintered from abuse.
The once-gleaming white clapboard siding needed a fresh coat of paint, and a few blue shutters looked as if they’d fall off with the next stiff wind.
A few of the cedar shingles were missing, and the once-blooming gardenia bushes, gone unmanaged for at least a year or more, had grown to nearly cover the railing that encircled the partial wraparound porch.
Grass pushed up through the cracks in the concrete path leading to the front steps, and she could already see that the casings of the double-hung windows would need some mending.
Despite the fact that her once-sparkling, fairy-tale home had become dulled by age and neglect, Erica couldn’t wait to go inside.
She made the offer to the previous owners, sight unseen, but she knew well in advance that the house needed a lot of work to make it beautiful again.
This was her first true visit to the property, a new experience she savored with each step.
She left her jeep and the U-Haul trailer on the curb and rushed up the path, fisting the key Julia had given her at the title office.
She lovingly ran her fingers along the rough railing as she ascended the first few steps. The treads creaked and popped beneath her feet as Erica’s eyes swept over the shaded porch and she noticed how slivers of late-morning light pierced through the hedge of bushes to spill over the decking.
She looked closer at the decorative sidelights that flanked the paneled, mahogany front doors.
From the street, she hadn’t noticed the etched engravings of a flowering bouquet of roses with leaves and vines around the edges.
Erica smiled as her throat tightened with emotion.
Gardenias were her mother’s favorite flower, and roses were Erica’s.
With tender care, as if she were trespassing upon sacred ground, Erica unlocked her front door and stepped inside.
The door eased open, hinges creaking in protest. Entering the front hall was like being transported into another world of old, refined beauty that she had never known in her own life.
The dark trim gleamed in the sunlight and contrasted with the oak floor that was badly in need of refinishing.
The delicate crystal chandelier in the foyer caught the light coming through the windows and scattered rainbow diamonds against the faded wallpaper.
The staircase matched the trim wood and boasted a gorgeous acanthus leaf newel cap that needed some serious polishing.
Two twin parlors with their own grand fireplaces and connected by pocket doors, mirrored the dining room and modernized kitchen on the other side of the long entry hall.
Upstairs, Erica rushed from one bedroom to the next, gawking at how the craftsmanship of the public spaces carried into the private quarters of the home.
As she inspected each room, she couldn’t help but feel like a giddy child again, fawning over the rich detail of the home that was now completely hers.
It was obvious that the interior needed some touch-up work and minor repairs, but otherwise the Victorian home was just as she had envisioned, just as she and her mother always talked about.
Erica ended up back in the front parlor and stared out the bay windows that looked out over the porch.
She didn’t believe in angels, but something compelled her to speak to her mother’s spirit at that moment.
She had to tell her, to say it out loud, to proclaim it so the universe knew what she had done.
“We did it, Mom,” she said softly. “We got the house.”