“What if Ivy wants the child back?”
Austin drew up his knees and draped his arms over them, covering up the hole on the left knee. “We’d take him in. But if she does that, no Shifter will want her. That’s about as scarlet letter as it comes, and most men don’t want to raise another man’s child. That’s something she’ll have to consider, because it’ll be life changing. She’ll always have my pack’s protection, but Ivy could be giving up a future of having her own family. Even when the child is grown, the stigma will be there. People don’t know her story, and they’ll just assume she was unfaithful or promiscuous.”
Unfortunately, this was true. Shifters had only recently acquired their freedom from slavery, so in many ways, they were still wrapped up in the ways of the old world. Wolves mated for life, and a woman with a fatherless child represented a woman unwilling to devote herself completely to one man. Lorenzo was beginning to see how fallible that belief really was.
“So tell the truth, Church. As a Packmaster, how serious are you willing to get? Are you ready to stand up to your pack and any outsider to defend that choice?”
Lorenzo stroked Ivy’s silky fur and admired the exquisite layers of color that blended from dark grey to white to silver on each hair. “I’ve given it consideration.”
Austin chuckled. “That I don’t doubt, but I have a feeling Ivy will have a problem if you cut a man’s throat for calling her a gimp. She’s not the kind of woman who puts up with that kind of shit. Ivy’s never embraced violence as a form of punishment. I wouldn’t mind going a few rounds with some of the jackasses in my pack, but now I get where she’s coming from. I don’t want the women or children in my pack to become afraid of me because I condone physical punishment among the men, so I’ve found other creative ways to enforce my rules. There’s more than one way to run a pack and earn their respect. But yeah,” he said with a laugh, rising to his feet. “Good luck with that.”
Ivy hopped to her feet and trotted over to Denver, licking his face. He turned away and looked annoyed as she continued cleaning his neck with her pink tongue.
Austin set his beer on the black bar. “Do me a favor and tell Wheeler to come back. I want him to get some shut-eye and switch places with Jericho. Ben slipped out before you came in, so tell him to get back in here too. I’ve got five women, one child, and three men in here. That ain’t sittin’ well with me.”
Lorenzo rose to his feet and threw Austin a frosty glare. “I’m not your runner, but since I could use a drink, I’ll pass along the message as a courtesy.”
Lorenzo headed into the bar. He’d lost track of the time since there weren’t any clocks. Vampires didn’t require sleep, so their clubs were busy morning and night. He neared a table on his left that was located next to a half wall, giving its occupants privacy.
Wheeler had his fingers laced behind his head and was leaning back in his chair.
Ben sipped his drink, watching one of the waitresses strut by. “I’d give my left nut for some of that.”
Wheeler took notice of her slim legs and perky breasts. “I’d give your left nut for some of that, too.”
Lorenzo lifted the edge of the table and tipped a few empty bottles.
“Hey, what the shit?” Ben complained.
“Your Packmaster wants you to return to the party. Both of you.” Lorenzo watched them get up as he sat in one of the chairs. Wheeler seemed the more obedient of the two, which came as a surprise given that his physical appearance made him seem more rebellious. Ben looked nondescript and forgettable, and Lorenzo noticed his reluctance to follow orders.
Jericho swaggered into the room—jeans ripped in various places and his concert shirt unkempt. The bear claw hanging from his neck caught Lorenzo’s eye; only warriors carried tokens like that. Jericho kept his shoulder-length hair in his face and tugged at the long sleeves of a thin shirt he wore beneath the T-shirt. The grey sleeves were jagged at the cuff, as if cut with a pair of dull scissors. He sat in the chair across from Lorenzo.
“No one recognizes the big rock star?” Lorenzo said more than asked.
“This yours?” Jericho lifted one of the glasses.
“Ben’s.”
Jericho knocked it back and shivered like a woman. “Damn, he drinks that nasty shit that tastes like licorice. Nah. No one recognizes me as long as I cover up my tattoo. I wear the thick eyeliner onstage because without it, people aren’t sure. Just a few tricks I learned over the years about creating an alternate image.”
Lorenzo studied this tall wolf for a moment. “I saw you have a little one on the way.”
His face beamed. Milky-green eyes flashed back at him. “Yeah. Izzy’s pretty settled on the name Melody if it’s a girl.”