11. Deacon
Chapter 11
Deacon
“James!”
I turn my head, and a flash of a camera goes off. I pop a smirk and let them take another one.
Henri reserved, as she called it, ‘the most fun’ event for us. And I’d love to agree since it’s an event geared toward human kids learning about conservation and the environment, but there are a lot more cameras here than I anticipated.
I’ve lost track of Henri again, and I’m getting exhausted. The large clock projected on the wall shows almost two hours until the ball drops at midnight.
Swirling the champagne around in the flute I picked up off a passing tray, I start looking for Henri. My wolf is tucked under deep enough that, at this point, I’m actually getting to enjoy the buzz of the alcohol.
I can’t help but search for her in any room when I know she’s nearby. With a cursory scan, I find her examining the silent auction items. She’s squinting at an item listed for auction.
“Hey.” I try not to startle her.
She looks at me, then back at the item, and whispers, “What is it?”
It’s some sort of taxidermy. But it’s seemingly different pieces of animals put together to form some sort of new creature from the depths of some child’s imagination. The base, though, seems to be a badger.
“I have no idea. But if I come across one of them alive, I’m most certainly running the other way. Don’t mess with a scarier predator.” I shudder.
She snorts. “You think it’s a predator?”
I point to the head, which I believe to be a porcupine with owl feathers for quills. “Yeah. Because there’s no way something like that gets eaten by anything else. The bare minimum reason is because it would taste terrible.”
Henri giggles.
Even though I know I shouldn’t, I wrap my arm around her shoulder. “Come on, I want to see if I’m still winning the brewery tours.”
“You bid on the brewery tours?” She shakes her head.
I shrug, leading the way down the auction lineup. “Well, it was either that or I bid on the tour of the pack house and property.”
“The item you donated?”
I get the ‘really, Deacon’ look that comes with a scolding head shake from Henri, but I’m smiling like an idiot at my own amusement.
“Well, I was actually planning on demanding that Cade show up, dressed all nice, and walk me around the house and talk about the pack while I take pictures and ‘oooh’ and ‘ahhh,’ but that seemed like too much of a time commitment. Our house and pack property is a lot bigger when you think about it in a tour sense.” I look down at her, and fuck, if I don’t want to kiss her, to taste the single glass of champagne she allowed herself on her lips.
I force myself to take my arm off her shoulder. The space is the only way I’ll stop myself.
Then the collar glints in one of the special lights meant to illuminate the auction items. Boundaries, Deacon. It’s not really a collar. It’s not really staking a claim. She’s hot, not your mate.
When we go around and look at the various items, Henri giggles at the prices on some of the bids. Yearly season tickets to the hockey team, shooting lessons, hunting excursions, all priced in the thousands. While we walk down the row, I double the bids on all the brewery tours before moving on to the next, and by the time we get to the end of the row, it’s only killed another twenty minutes.
“Ahh, James. Man of the hour.” I recognize the woman but can’t place her.
“Commissioner Alise Mitchell for the Department of Natural Resources, she’s the guest of honor,” Henri says behind her champagne glass before pretending to take a small sip.
“Alise, I was telling my associate how excellent it is that the media is finally recognizing the hard work the DNR does for the state.” I lie with a smile.
“Bullshit,” Alise says with a smirk. “You were probably talking about outbidding me on those brewery tours. Answer this for me: how do wolves feel about the wolves...” She stops and rephrases. “How do wolf shifters feel about the wolves released into Northern Minnesota as conservation efforts?”
Thank fuck Henri told me to prepare for this question. “Well, I can honestly say we think it’s excellent to see wolves being returned to their natural habitat as part of the work to restore the conservation of the north woods.”
“Right. But aren’t they your direct competition? You’re all out there acting like wolves aren’t killing deer all times of the year while shifters still need to go through the proper legal channels.” A man stumbles over his words, and it doesn’t take a certified rocket surgeon to know where this conversation is headed.
Henri stands behind me a bit and puts her hand on the flat of my back. She’s trying to warn me away; it’s part of the system she devised over the last month to communicate when to disengage, but I think I have this okay, at least for now.
I shrug and relax a bit, trying to appear less intimidating by slouching. “While we do not necessarily hunt using a gun, we always apply for the proper tags from the DNR. Wolf shifters”—I make the direct separation between us and our permanently four-legged family—“have always been highly dedicated to the natural resources. The DNR has proven they’re very good with tracking data, and cooperating has always been our priority. I’m sure Commissioner Alise can more eloquently speak to the conversations she and Cade have been engaging in.”
“See!” The commissioner pats me on the shoulder. “The packs are on our side. I really do think that ultimately, those who spend that much time in the woods really are our best resources for furthering the discussions of conservation.”
“Well, folks, if you’ll excuse me.” I dismiss myself with a head bob and turn toward Henri, rolling my eyes and offering her my elbow.
Picking our way through the crowd, I find an open table in a quiet corner of the event hall. Henri takes a seat as I drop into a chair and pull the fun flask out of my jacket.
“Deacon. There’s literally a bar here. An open bar,” Henri hisses and gestures to the flask. “Put it away.”
I tuck the flask back in my pocket and sigh. “Dancing?”
“Aren’t you tired?” Henri yawns.
“Bored. Not tired. I didn’t have the heart to tell them I haven’t gone on a stag hunt since I was forced as a teenager as part of the ‘coming of age’ nonsense.” I use air quotes for her.
She shakes her head and looks at the same clock I’ve been eyeing. “Okay. This event is not as fun as I anticipated.”
“Is that code for we can get out of here?” I look at her.
She pulls her phone out of the clutch she’s been carrying. “Ugh. If we go back now, the others will know we didn’t stay for our whole event.”
“Who said anything about going back?” I start thinking of last year’s New Year’s Eve parties and try to run down the best one to take her to.
“Where else would we go? It’s snowing, remember?” Henri looks toward the giant windows as if they’re evidence.
“Always so practical.” I stand up and offer her my hand. “We’ve got ninety minutes before the ball drops. I know a place.”
Henri stands but doesn’t accept my hand. She tucks her phone in her clutch. “Are we overdressed?”
“Absurdly.” I nod, thinking about the warehouse rave. “It’ll make it more fun.”
I can see the gears turning in her head as she contemplates making us stay, but Henri finally slips her hand in mine. Wrapping it around my forearm, I start leading her toward the coatroom.
Bundled up and in the security detail’s SUV, I give him the address. He hesitates but doesn’t question it.
Four miles away, we pull up in front of a warehouse. Mechanical hums, thumps, and beeps come from inside the building, but it’s eerily quiet outside. Cars line the streets in all directions around us.
“Phone stays here.” I show Henri, tossing it into the back seat of the SUV .
“What?” She shakes her head. “What if we need to call someone?”
“Agreed. Not safe,” the security detail pipes up.
I shake my head before grabbing her clutch and tossing it in the back seat. “Live a little, Henri.”
Slamming the door closed, I choose to wrap an arm around her, the excitement thrumming in my chest.
“I didn’t think you liked spending time with people,” Henri says as we get closer to the door.
“My Man! Deacon!” The bouncer smiles at me. “Who is this fine thing? Hot damn, mama, you look good.”
I growl at him.
“Deacon,” Henri whispers, scolding me.
But I’m too busy putting myself between him and her. “None of your concern. You’ve got room for us?”
“For you, they always make exceptions. Ezra and Dinah said you were comin’. Cousins Grimm getting rowdy tonight?” He picks up the metal detector wand off the table beside him and runs it over our bodies before nodding and opening the door.
“Hadn’t quite decided. But the night is young.” I smile.
No way I’m having any additional party favors with Henri here. The ‘fun flask’ was enough to keep my problems at bay.
The music spills out around us, the rave blaring.
When I turn to look at Henri, she’s wide eyed, but it’s not a look of fear. A smile pulls at the corners of her lips, and her hips have already started subtly swinging.
There’s no hesitation this time as I pull her in from the cold night air and toward the dance floor.
There’s a digital clock on the wall, but it shows the countdown instead of the regular time, and I plan to get lost in every minute until midnight when this secret party with Henri ends.