20. Henri
Chapter 20
Henri
The agenda for the Lunar New Year pack run was set. Per my request, the wolves would run first, with members of the press and early arriving guests able to watch and snap candid pictures from the deck as we departed. Once we ended our run, the vetted members of the press would be invited onto the snowy lawn for closer pictures. Then there would be time for everyone to get ready before formal dinner and mingling.
And I’m stalling with every intention of trying to get out of it.
“You coming, Henri?” Cade waits at the top of the stairs for the family to descend to the dressing and shifting room.
“Me?” I’m caught in my attempt to escape the pack run I said I would be here for.
It was heavily implied that since I’ve missed a few... all... of the pack runs since the one in October, my running tonight was mandatory.
And, based on the look in Cade’s eyes, The Leviathan won’t let me out of it .
“Yeah.” Deacon’s voice comes from behind me. “Henri and I are running tail.”
“Sounds good.” Cade takes Deacon at his word with a nod before descending the stairs.
I feel Deacon so close behind me, and when I look over my shoulder, he’s right there. Tilting my head up, I see clearly into his eyes.
“I tried to get you out of it earlier, but we’re both on his shit list for skipping a bunch. But it’s okay, I’ll hang back with you, and we can come in at the end of the run when the schmoozing is almost over.”
Fuck. No getting out of this.
My wolf is pressed up against my skin, and then I see the barely there dark-brown flicker of Deacon’s wolf in his eyes.
It’s been three weeks since Cade and I assigned Deacon to one of my team members, but not spending time with Deacon has felt weirder than I thought it would. I only worked with him for almost two months. I have no business missing that. But standing here and feeling vulnerable but comforted by his presence really feels like I’ve been missing him.
“It’ll be okay,” he reassures me.
It’s strange having Deacon comfort me, and he does it without even putting a single hand on me. With a nod toward the stairs, I follow his suggestion and descend to the basement.
When Cade and Thalia finished the original basement build, the changing room was built on the smaller side based on the average number of people who attended the pack runs on holidays per the pack registrar’s account.
Within two months of the house being done, the number of those in attendance quickly tripled. A quick renovation was done to increase the space’s size. Cade said it was a good problem to have, that more people feeling comfortable to come to the main house to shift and to be together was the sign of a healthy pack.
I questioned then why Finn had challengers while Thalia was in heat, but the answer surprised me. According to Cade, a healthy pack will test the leadership, not always out of malice but for proof they’re strong enough to be dependable. Like children learning to respect authority, it’s learned and only gained through consistent dependability.
It’s poetic. That even if it feels rocky and unstable, the group is working to be stronger rather than falling apart.
Trying to remember the positives, though, while stripping down in a room with a bunch of other people is impossible. The bigger room and space with more people inside gives me this awful feeling of being under a microscope. I’m instantly back in high school gym class and being awkwardly looked at and scrutinized by a bunch of mean girls.
That’s never been my experience here, but feelings aren’t always logical, and this social norm feels like one I’ll never adapt to.
Deacon ushers me into the changing room and past a small group of people stripping.
His voice is barely audible over the excited chatter of the room. “I’m between you and the rest of the room. I’m facing away from you, and we’ll be the last ones out the door. Everything is just fine. Relax so you’ll be able to find your wolf and shift.”
“Is it that obvious?” I whisper back.
He takes a beat before answering. “To someone who doesn’t watch you the way I do, probably not.”
Is that cute, or is that creepy? I squint, looking at his back. If I could see his face, maybe I’d know for sure.
Barely two minutes later, most of the people have left the room .
“Come on, Henri,” Deacon beckons. “Time for our mandatory athletics.”
“You should really get some pictures with the press though.” I urge. Has Kyle been reminding him of that?
“Mmm, pass.” Deacon’s voice is muffled as he must pull his shirt off over the top of his head. “The problem about being a white and cream wolf during the winter is I pretty much just look like a splotch of dirty snow. Not attractive and doesn’t photograph well.”
“Nothing about you is unattractive.” The words spill out my mouth, and I clamp my hand over it. Fuck. I draw a deep breath. “It’s why the media is obsessed with you.”
“Yeah.” Deacon doesn’t say anything.
Everything between us is so fucking awkward. It’s hot and cold.
Kyle does the best he can to monitor Deacon, yet I find myself stepping in. It’s been a month since that kiss in DC and then again when we got back home, and it isn’t getting easier to maintain distance between us.
A chorus of howls starts outside, and my wolf presses to the surface. The telltale electric hum runs through my body. Similar to what I felt when I kissed Deacon.
When I turn around, Deacon is already walking away from me, naked. His ass flexes with each footfall, and he pauses at the door. “If you want to shift in here, I’ll open the door for you.”
My wolf takes my body faster than normal. It’s not pained or laborious, and I settle into my four-footed form. Deacon opens the door and steps out of my way. We keep our head low to the ground, submitting to him. He’s not an Alpha wolf, nor is he even all that dominant as a person, but he’s royalty and we respect that.
The door closes behind us, and a groan comes from Deacon before he brushes up against us, from our hip to our shoulder, even placing a lick on our muzzle, praising our shift.
One final howl echoes out, and Deacon adds his call to it, but we don’t.
The humans on the deck above us are being surprisingly agreeable. They don’t shout or try to call for our attention at all. It’s good to see they’re following directions. The electric whir of cameras and shutters snapping can be heard, but it’s not overwhelming.
At the back of the pack, we trot slowly, waiting to get to the wood line to run. Deacon hangs back, walking and openly watching the back of the pack. When the pack is engulfed in the woods, everyone takes off running, except for Deacon, who stays right alongside us as we trot across the frozen earth.