Chapter 14
The morning sun shines through the windows closest to the table. The entire kitchen is filled with people. A few heads turn to eye me as I shuffle past them to grab some fruit. For spirit’s sake, this is like living in a human frat house. Making my way to the table, I look for a seat.
“I missed you last night.” Jocko smiles from a chair. His smile is infectious, so like Pratt’s.
Hudry rises from a chair next to him. “You should’ve come even like that. Take my seat, I think they’re about to start.”
Start what? I take it offering him a strawberry from my bowl and he hovers just behind us.
Many others join around the table. Stark enters off the far end of the house—I still don’t know what room is over there—along with two Elders, Otis and Graden. They stand at the end of the table.
Eyes up.
Stark gets everyone’s attention, his calm self towers over both Elders flanking him. All the chatter in the room dissipates into a silent hum.
Otis clears his throat before addressing the room.
“We’re happy everyone had a great full moon.
Now, due to the increased sightings of rifled humans venturing into the central of all cohorts territory, we are now on strict cohort watch.
Everyone will stay here in the bunks to help with the extra hours and simplicity of rotation.
If you have any questions, ask them now. ”
He can’t be serious . . . there are already too many pack members here most nights.
“What about our mates? Do they get to stay?” asks a man I’ve never seen before.
“Of course, as normal. Mates are welcome to stay. Children are to remain home. It’s safer for them away from the chaos and realities of cohort work.
” Otis talks like he’s the one who is welcoming them into his home.
He won’t be the one walking into a room full of werewolves who despise him every day.
“Stark, do you have anything to add?”
He nods and stares over the table. “One thing to note is the furnace in the house has been inconsistent so you may notice it cooling off or heating at random. Please do not touch the thermostats. It is being worked out.”
My stomach somersaults as the rest of the group nods like it’s no big deal.
His eyes pass over the room until he looks right at me. “Also, as you all know, Pratt Tutten’s younger sister Aloka is staying here.”
All heads turn toward me—‘cause I didn’t already get enough attention walking in.
Oh, great. We get to live with a human.
Aren’t humans the problem?
I wish I wasn’t listening right about now, but after last night, I can’t risk not hearing Stark. Except that comes along with the consequences of everyone else.
“If I hear or if Aloka mentions a single issue with any of you, you will be punished appropriately. No one unless given permission can enter past the bathroom door in the hallway. Don’t think I won’t find out if you do cross it.”
What is she? His little pet project now?
We could remove this issue in seconds.
I glance around the room, trying to figure out whose thoughts they are.
“Juny and Bynn. Though you are both mated, you will no longer be welcome to stay with your partners here as of now.”
Everyone’s heads turn away from Stark, but I keep my eyes on him. The Alpha energy radiates off him, every subtle movement a command in itself.
“Stark—” A light-haired man—the one who asked about his mate in the first place—steps around who I assume is either Juny or Bynn.
“If you have an issue, feel free to exit my home.” Stark doesn’t drop his gaze from me. The deepness in his voice is invigorating, and my legs clamp closed.
This is wrong, Nikki is sitting just down the table. I shouldn’t be reacting to him like this, not when he’s already chosen her. It’s better that way. No one wants a human for a mate, and I am a liability in more ways than one. The man’s stance falters, and he turns back toward his mate and shrugs.
“All essentials, please finish eating and join us in the forum to formulate the details of the next few days,” Graden chimes in from his place next to Stark.
The three exit the room together, and many funnel after.
“I wish he protected me like that.” Jocko nudges my arm and winks.
“Prison, protection, all the same right?”
I leave the table, and Jocko rubs the side of my arm as he passes me for the other side of the house.
I decide to follow him toward the small hallway, but so does the man who stood up to Stark about his mate.
Maybe I’ll see the forum another time. I keep my eyes on the knots in the hardwood floor and head the opposite way into Stark’s office.
If I’m stuck here, I should find more to read. This prison just got way too crowded.
In the office, sunlight creates a glow on either side of the large desk as the door latches behind me. My shoulders drop from around my ears. Much better.
There must be a way to shut out everyone in this damn house and not the minds I want to hear.
I begin scanning the shelves for anything on wolf telepathy.
It’s not like I’m going to go tell Stark someone made a comment when he’s not here.
I don’t need more problems. Some of the looks tonight made it seem like they’d end me on the spot, while others were more on the repulsive side.
I should have asked to go home, but I have a new angle now.
Stark told me there were books on legends in his collection, but the shelves at my height and down are filled with nothing significant.
I go behind the desk and grab the chair, rolling it out to the first shelf.
I lift myself onto it, my weight squishing out a soft bit of air from the leather fabric.
It twists below my feet when I stand, but I grip the hard wooden bookcase edges for balance and slide myself along.
Finally, A Wolf’s Thoughts catches my eye.
I pull all three volumes out. Folding my knees under myself on the twisting chair, I flip through for anything that might be useful.
One out of the three talks about communication with each other.
I place it on the corner of the desk before going back for more books.
After a few more rounds, I’ve found two solid options. This collection is magnificent.
Wheeling the chair across the room to the other wall of shelves, I’m grateful for his organization by topic, and not by alphabet.
There are only a few spots left for books on legends.
I find books on wolf scents, sleep habits, history, and even a collection of cookbooks.
As I reach for one, the chair slides out a bit and I wobble, but manage to pull myself back in tight to the bookcase.
I may suggest a ladder to Stark. One of those beautiful rolling ones that exist in movies.
There must be something here. I find a few books on thoughts, but also so many on lakes, rivers, and geography. Nothing like what I expected him to keep on his highest shelves.
When the door creaks open, I twist to see, and the chair slides out farther from the bookcase. I collapse onto my knees, clinging to the armrests to keep from falling.
Stark and another man stand in the doorway.
“I’ll come find you,” Stark says to the man.
Awkward.
I spin the chair back around, away from them, and hear the door shut.
“Didn’t expect you in here. What are you sneaking around for?”
“I’m not sneaking. I’m book hunting,” I say, still turned toward the shelf.
“Anything in particular?”
I glance over my shoulder at the mini stack I’ve acquired.
He moves to the desk while I hop down, sending the chair backward, I don’t need him seeing my interest in werewolf thoughts.
My hand stops midair as his wraps around my forearm, those foreign tingles shooting up my arm as his wide eyes lock on to mine.
I pull—a ridiculous effort, since he’s as solid as a spruce tree.
I go for the books with my other hand, but he tugs me away and lifts two of them into the air above me to read.
I look up at them as he tries to read the spines.
His forearms flex, sending veins down his arm.
I’m so glad he can’t hear me drooling at him right now.
I rip my arm free and grab the other three off the desk, hugging them to my chest.
“Can I have those back?”
He reads the spines and hands them back to me, looking at me like I’m a puzzle he can’t quite figure out. “Yes.”
“You’re welcome for the books by the way.”
“Right. Thank you.” I roll my eyes at him.
She’s adorable.
Oh great, I love being seen as a child. I move away from the desk to sit in one of the two lounge chairs. Wrapped in black leather, I rest four of the five books beside me and start reading.
Stark comes and sits next to me. I quickly rotate my chair around to face the map instead of him. It’s covered in string lines, along with red and blue pins scattered across.
Stark’s chair spins, but I keep my eyes to the map.
“I was thinking,” I begin, keeping my head facing forward, “if there are all these werewolves now in the house and you’re worried about them being around me, I could, you know, go home? Come get me when this is over with or whatever.”
“No, Red. It’ll be fine.” His lips come together and his tongue finds the corner. I have to stop myself from watching. “Is it frustrating?” he asks.
I quirk my eyebrows together. “Being stuck here? Yes.”
Being around him when he acts this way? Also, yes.
“Not being able to hear any of our thoughts.”
I forgot he read the book titles.
I flip a page. “I read everything. Don’t think too hard about it.” I don’t know why he hasn’t left. The house is full of chaos and he came in here to talk to whoever that one guy was. “Don’t you have people to boss around?”
A small growl slips from his calm surface. “What exactly do you think we’re doing?”
I give up and close the book. “My guess? Rotations through cuts of the forest. Keeping a distance from the humans but making sure they don’t travel closer to us.”
“Did Pratt talk to you about this?”
I turn my chair some more to face him—a task with his height. “Yes, and I’m sure he didn’t expect you to move a bunch of people in the house I’m in to kill me.”
“No one is going to touch you.” The way his intensity increases, I squirm in the chair.
“What’s the issue anyway? Usually, you just scare the camps off, and the humans go back.”
“This one’s different.” Is that stress in his voice?
“How?”
They’re guarding it.
Oh.
His hands slip into his pockets, shoulders back, revealing nothing. “Just is.”
Wow, men are agitating.
I drop the topic, tuck my legs up into the oversized seat and open my book again.
“So, if you look here—” I glance up to see Stark standing at the map, his muscular frame draped in a black T-shirt and a nicer pair of pants today, a finger pointing to a red line.
“This is our current border. Humans have no rights to cross it, to keep things calm, as you know. We get the forest, and they get their cities. But here—” He grabs two white pins from a small container and pokes them above the red line.
He ties a small knot over each, connecting them with a yellow thread.
“This is how far we’ve seen them walking, and this is where they put up camp.
” He places a red pin. It’s right under the line of the agreed-upon border.
“No one’s been in, but we’ve tracked most of the traffic and can assume it’s growing.
There have been multiple reported sightings of men walking heavily armed past our border, and they have no problems using the guns they carry.
So we assess and protect from a distance for now. ”
“Is it only your cohort on this?”
Are they who killed Pratt? I wonder. I don’t dare to ask, but the answer slips onto his face for a brief second.
“The other four have their instructions. Some are stationed at the edge of where we will work, and a few others are keeping up regular routines.”
This is not good. Stark runs his hand through his hair, and the lines around his eyes show. Maybe we both suck at sleep. The best ones I’ve had are after healing.
“Well, thanks for telling me what’s going on.”
“Anytime, and if you want to hide in here while everyone stays, consider this your extended room.”
He exits, and I stare at the map. They’ve never gone into the camp, so they can’t know for sure what we’re up against.
The office is at least a change of scenery from my room each day. Quiet too. I can’t hear anyone, as ironwood planks line the wall behind the map.
I dive into the waiting books. There’s no sign of anyone barging in, so it’s almost perfect.
Some werewolves gain the ability to block their thoughts from others. A wolf cannot speak directly to one werewolf without others knowing, as the pack unifies its mind.
I close the useless book and open the second. Both speak of regular skills, all of which are taught in school. Some master them early, while others take time.
When the orange sunset glows into the room, I climb up to put the books away. My shoulders creep up when I head to dinner, hearing voices everywhere in and out. Stark didn’t hesitate to shut down my idea of going home. Maybe it’s time to stop asking and start adapting.