Chapter 2
Securing the house had become a nightly ritual for Krys.
His packmates were always opening windows and leaving shit unlocked, and a home was vulnerable at night.
Catcher couldn’t be everywhere at once. Neither could any other wolves who joined him on the twelve hundred acres Tak owned.
A determined intruder might slip past Lucian’s cameras and security lights.
There was always a chance if someone wasn’t paying attention and left a fucking window unlocked.
Krys brushed his hand along the living room windows, familiar with the position of the locking mechanisms. The housemates usually locked the front door at night but had to keep the back open for shifting purposes.
An intruder slipping onto the property unnoticed was highly unlikely but not impossible.
They weren’t going to walk through the door, especially without someone noticing.
Both Tak and Bear slept off the back hall and knew the cadence of their packmates’ footfalls and the familiar sounds unique to each person.
Unlocked windows were Krys’s primary concern.
Krys stalked into the kitchen and switched off the light. When he heard a door creak, he waited by the archway and squinted down the back hall.
Bear emerged from his bedroom—wearing nothing but grey pajama bottoms—and silently closed the door.
He was a giant at six and a half feet and built like a truck.
They used to think he got his nickname because of his reddish-brown wolf, but it was more likely because of his body hair.
Nicknames stuck, and some people grew into them.
Krys silently dipped into the kitchen and decided to mess with Bear by hiding in the shadows.
As soon as Bear rounded the corner, his arm shot out reflexively and gripped Krys by the throat.
“Jesus Christ,” he rasped, clutching Bear’s wrist, barely able to breathe.
The lights switched on.
Bear blew out a breath and let go. “You need to quit doing that. One of these days I’ll lay you out.” He had a great Texas accent that made him sound like a badass even though he was a big fucking marshmallow.
Krys rubbed his throat. “Why are you sneaking around in the middle of the night?”
“I’m not sneaking.” Bear chugged down a small container of juice from the fridge. “I shifted earlier and didn’t eat my craving.”
Krys moseyed over to the canisters they kept some of the pack’s cravings in and tossed a mountain of Tootsie Rolls onto the kitchen island. “You would’ve been shit out of luck in the 1700s with that craving.”
“I’m sure I would’ve found something close.” Bear propped his elbows on the island and twisted the wrapper off the candy. “At least it’s not stale bread.”
Krys couldn’t argue with that. His craving after a shift was pretzels. Hard, salty, and dry as fuck. He once ate so many in a single sitting that he almost choked to death. Nobody could explain Shifter cravings—it was one of the many mysteries of their existence.
After Bear finished another candy, he strode into the pantry and then pitched a box at Krys.
Krys caught the graham crackers. “What’s this for?”
“Cleo.”
Cleo was a night owl, so any snacking was after hours, when she could raid the kitchen without anyone admonishing her. Not that she ate a lot of junk food, but kids never liked being told what to do.
Krys tapped his hand on the box. “She shouldn’t eat in bed. It attracts bugs.”
Bear arched an eyebrow before grabbing another candy. “That’s what kids do. Better if you take those up to her so she doesn’t come down. We’ve got cherries in the fridge.”
“What’s wrong with cherries? They’re healthy.”
“Cherry stains are mighty tough to get out of the sheets. Mercy’s doing the wash this week and had a time getting them out. Cleo eats in bed, so cracker crumbs are better.”
“Then tell her.”
Bear brushed his hand down his chest. “I don’t feel right reprimanding her.”
“Well, I don’t think dictating what she should snack on is any better.”
“Tak just bought those sheets.”
Krys understood where he was coming from.
It had taken time to build trust with Cleo, so the pack was clearly worried that one small confrontation might turn her against them.
It was an irrational fear, but it revealed how much they loved her.
Krys was a straight shooter and didn’t think treating her like she couldn’t understand would help her grow.
“I’ll let her know.” Krys meandered toward the door. “Better go back to bed before your mate thinks you’re fooling around on her.” He chuckled while strutting out of the room.
Most nights were routine. Everyone had predictable schedules except Salem, who received calls at odd hours and had to tiptoe out so he wouldn’t wake Quinn.
She never once complained when he had to leave, even during mealtimes.
She was proud of her mate, and Krys often wondered what a love like that felt like.
All the chicks in the house were so different, but he didn’t have issues with any of them, which came as a surprise.
With every new coupling, he feared one of the guys might hook up with an abominable bitch on wheels who liked to gossip and drive a wedge between people, but that never happened.
They were family now, and Krys had never had a family that mattered.
Except Archer.
He was the only one who had stuck by Krys’s side through thick and thin.
After Archer lost his arm, he spiraled into a mental hellhole—one with which Krys was all too familiar.
It gutted him to see his cousin suffer. He grimly remembered those dark days.
He helped Archer find himself, and it was Archer who convinced him to join a pack with him and find the home they deserved.
Krys marched up the staircase, thinking about how Archer’s life had changed for the better and his was still plodding along. Everyone had a purpose. Either with mating or kids or a job. No, job was the wrong word. These motherfuckers had careers and life skills.
Krys’s only skill was killing a man in less than thirty seconds.
Once upstairs, he walked down the central hall toward the nearest bathroom in the second hall to the left.
Before he reached the door, it abruptly opened and Lakota marched out, blue dye staining his hands.
Melody shot out the door, wearing a plastic bag on her head and an oversized T-shirt covered with dye. “Where are you going? We’re not done!”
Lakota swiveled and held up his hands. “To get vinegar before it stains.”
She barked out a laugh and folded her arms. “That won’t work. I told you to wear gloves, but you just know everything, don’t you? You must have amnesia. Remember that time with the purple dye? Don’t be such a baby. It’s only a little color.”
“You’re right, wife. Who cares about a little stain?” He moved toward her and extended his arms. “Come, let me hold your face in my hands so I can admire your ravishing beauty.”
Melody shrieked and darted back into the bathroom. Lakota waggled his eyebrows at Krys before going in after her.
Yeah, they’d be a while.
Mel was always experimenting with hair color. She’d had pink hair the longest, but it was purple in the beginning. Six months ago, she tried cherry red with black roots but wound up hating it.
Krys stopped at Cleo’s door. Almost a year and a half had zipped by since she had become an official packmate.
They took turns tutoring, and she had finally grown comfortable around everyone in the house, including Atticus.
That was a huge milestone. In the beginning, Krys doubted she’d ever warm up to a Vampire.
But like Krys, she saw what a great dad he was and how much Joy adored him.
He had earned the trust and respect of them all.
Krys reflected on the night they rescued Cleo from the secret lab.
He stared at the floor at the sobering realization that, had he never heard her screaming or hesitated for a few seconds more, she would’ve burned alive.
Krys had never put his own life at risk for someone else, and he didn’t regret running through the searing heat and choking on the acrid smoke to save a stranger.
Wasn’t that what every kid should go to sleep knowing?
That there was at least one person in this miserable world willing to run through fire for them?
Krys knocked on her door.
“Come in.” Cleo frowned at the books surrounding her on the bed. “Salem gave me all these science books, but I already know this stuff.”
“Read it again. Can’t hurt.”
She flipped a book closed. “You read it. I don’t care about amoebas.”
Krys chuckled and leaned against her desk by the door. Poor kid. Because Vampires had wiped her memories, they didn’t know how much knowledge she had retained, let alone if she had ever been educated. The only way to find out was to force her to learn a particular subject.
He tossed the box of graham crackers at her.
Cleo missed but picked them up. “What’s this for?”
“Snacks.”
“Um, thanks?” She removed the headphones from around her neck and fluffed a stack of pillows behind her.
Cleo still kept her black hair short and messy, like she was stuck in time or something.
Though she had come out of her shell, she was always in survival mode.
Tak couldn’t force Catcher to be her watchdog; that was something wolves decided on their own.
But everyone looked out for her. They weren’t certain of her age but guessed around sixteen.
Assuming she was a Shifter, her first change would come in the next few years, and Krys preferred for that to happen when she was thirty.
Once a Shifter experienced their first shift, they were considered old enough to start dating… if their parents allowed it.
The idea of her growing up put his wolf on edge.
“What are you watching?” he asked while staring at the images on the TV.
She glanced up at the giant screen. “Clash of the Titans.”
He sat at the foot of the bed to watch. “Haven’t seen this one in years.”