“And weaken the pack?”
William turned his eyes toward the ceiling, clasping his hands behind his back. “Sometimes too much weight will sink a boat. Don’t you agree?”
A moment of silence passed between them.
“Tell me, William, do you ever find the house to be quiet?”
William gave a robust laugh and sauntered toward the door. “Quiet is hardly the word I’d use to describe living with fifty people. I’ll get right on my assignment and have something for you soon. I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave the property for a short while if you want me to get started, full moon be damned. If you have any additional information, you know how to reach me. Phones are pretty nifty. I can remember a time when it took weeks to send a letter.”
When William closed the door, Lorenzo’s gaze drifted across the room to the bright moon shining through the window. Laughter erupted from the other room, followed by a few shouts and a door slamming.
Yes, quiet. The lack of children’s laughter made the house seem like a tomb. There were some young in his pack, but they were nearing the age of maturity. None of the mated members in his pack sought to have children, even with their women going into heat. Unclaimed women were locked up during their cycle before the men picked up their scent and tried everything they could think of to seduce them. Women in heat were more prone to making foolish choices without thinking, unable to say no to their own sexual needs. A good Packmaster kept them separated so the pack didn’t fill up with illegitimate children. Families were important, and a child needed to grow up with two mated parents, not born of a couple of horny wolves. Since an alpha’s level of control was unmatched, some Packmasters helped the women get through their cycle faster. More than once he’d been tempted by their pleas to go further. He couldn’t lie; he’d thought about it once or twice, but for completely unexpected reasons.
A selfish part of him wanted to experience the biggest form of vanity there was: a smaller version of himself. A life created from his genes, his spirit, and his strength. But not from those women.
Like her name, Ivy tangled in his thoughts like a stubborn vine. Lorenzo had no intentions to acquire her, but after their conversation in his car, he needed more information. Something about her intrigued him. How could such a gentle creature be so defiant, strong-willed, and yet loyal all at once?
The sound of howling wolves filled the night like an ancient song.
Chapter 5
Later that evening, after the confrontation with Fox’s wolf, I awoke from a terrible nightmare and gasped for breath. I switched on a low light mounted on the wall above my headboard and sat up. The dreamcatcher that hung over my bed was slightly swaying. Perhaps it had caught a gust of air when I moved.
I slept in one of the central rooms that didn’t have a window, hoping it would keep bad spirits from finding me. As a little girl, I’d kept my dreamcatcher tucked away in a drawer with a number of other things passed down to me from relatives. But one day, I had come to need its power to keep the nightmares at bay. Occasionally one of the dream demons slipped through, but not for long, as I would quickly wake up and they would vanish. My uncle had made the dreamcatcher for me over a century ago, long before I was born. He’d had a vision that one day he would have a niece who needed spiritual protection, so he had it blessed by a powerful shaman.
“Oh, brother,” I murmured, sliding my legs off the bed. My slippers were nowhere to be found, so I put on my robe and tiptoed into the quiet hallway. I passed the game room and silently descended the staircase, making the last step creak.
The dying embers in the fireplace gave off a residual glow, and dim moonlight trickled through the windows.
I noticed Wheeler fast asleep in one of the chairs by the television. With Ben’s wolf guarding the property, the men were more at ease about getting some sleep. Reno said that a tired man makes impulsive decisions, so he set all the alarms and told everyone to get some shut-eye.
Not wanting to wake Wheeler, I went into the kitchen where I caught Denver stooping in front of the open fridge. He was barefoot and shirtless with nothing on but a pair of loose grey sweatpants—the kind with a drawstring, and one of the white strings was swinging back and forth as he rummaged around on the lower shelf. I wondered how someone who ate as much junk food as he did could stay so fit.
“Just heat up the leftovers,” I suggested.
Denver stood up so fast he hit his head on the bottom of the freezer door. “Damn, woman!” he said with a start. “You should have been a mouse instead of a wolf, you know that?” He rubbed the back of his head and leaned on the door. “I’m not in the mood for a sequel.”
“I can make you some chili.”