That’s hardly a shocker, I replied. My main enemies-at-camp are suspicious? I wonder why? Hank Lauder and his son Stuart had been against me since day one. Hank was nearly as old as my father, but he’d only been a member of this Pack for the last twenty years. Before that he’d been a Pack wolf in the Southern Territories, but had been expelled for some reason unknown to me. Hank was strong and loud, and had led the biggest initiative against me when I’d lived on Compound, riling up the younger wolves and maneuvering them in line to do his dirty work, which ranged from foul taunts to fist throwing. If anyone would be pointing the finger, it would naturally be Hank.
My brother’s voice filtered into my mind again. None of the wolves are sure what’s going on, including these two, but they aren’t as stupid as they look.
There’s no one on earth I despise more than Hank Lauder. He made my life a living hell while I was here. As we closed the gap, I could tell by their dour faces they weren’t going to buy any of our excuses. We’re going to have to be careful not to give anything away.
Hank’s nostrils flared as we came to a stop. “You smell different,” he accused, not wasting any time. The charming southern drawl should’ve sounded like a good ol’ boy full of apple pie, but instead it was like a pie full of buzzing wasps. “Kinda like a werewolf, but somehow off”—he inhaled again, tasting—“more like a mongrel bitch in heat.”
Well, that was a pretty picture.
Without my consent, my fight-or-flight response flew to the surface as adrenaline rushed through me, spurred on by the strong scent of Hank’s aggression. My muscles began to twitch inside the tight wrapper of my skin and my nerve impulses sparked like a million tiny fireworks. Shit. I had no idea if I’d be able to stay in control or if my wolf would fight me for it. I couldn’t handle a battle for Dominion right now, not to mention I wasn’t supposed to give myself away to these two losers.
I forced myself to take a step backward.
Fight. My wolf flexed in my mind, pushing for control.
I curled my fingers into fists, crushing the empty foam coffee cup into tiny bits. With effort I steeled away the urge to hand Hank his ass on a platter. My nails dug into my palms. It was all I could do to keep myself under control. Down, girl, I hissed. This isn’t the time or the place. If we fight Hank, we lose everything. I stood my ground, but the power was dizzying. She pushed back with the force of a tornado.
Hank’s eyes widened with a hint of surprise, but he recovered quickly. “Yep, just like a dog in heat.” He forced a chuckle through his clenched teeth. “But not a true werewolf, because no self-respecting wolf would stink like that.”
He was playing me for dominance.
It was his wolf’s natural instinct. I knew it. He knew it. We all knew it. Whether or not he thought I was a wolf at this point didn’t matter. This was a stressful situation, and a wolf like Hank emitted dominance constantly, always fearful of losing his place in the pecking order. Unlike James and Tyler, who had solidified their dominance by sheer force, earning respect and ensuring other wolves were wary of a fight they weren’t likely to win. A wolf could sense power, and the rites of passage in this race were fierce. Fighting for status happened on a regular basis. Pack dynamics were fluid and only one constant remained: the weak fell below and the strong rose above.
I exhaled on a shallow breath and clarity struck like an arrow. If Hank and I fought right now, I would win. No contest. It didn’t matter if Hank was older and stronger. It didn’t matter if his status was rightfully above mine.
I knew.
The rush of the knowledge tipped the emotional scales to my wolf and a slow smile crept over my face before I could stop it. Without being totally aware of what I was doing, I brought my head up, my eyes at half-mast as I let the ecstasy of my new wolf wash over me.
The power was a drug. And I liked it.
My eyes pinned Hank’s shit-eating grin with a glare, and as the smirk fell from his face it sent a new jolt of adrenaline racing though my veins, the impact hitting me so hard my fingers exploded in sensation, my nails expanding to sharp points in the time it took to take a breath. For a wolf, holding eye contact was the ultimate challenge.
My gaze didn’t falter.
Something brushed against my brain and my brother’s voice held mild panic. Hey, eeeasy there, Bonnie. No need to start slinging your guns just yet. You need to back the fuck down right now. Do you hear what I’m telling you? This has already gone way too far. You’re not even supposed to be a full-blooded wolf, remember? You need to back off!
Says who? I half slurred.
Hank held my stare with defiance, his eyes flashing amber. Half a beat later they blazed full yellow.
My brother stepped into my shoulder, jostling me. Snap out of it! Drop your stare. Let him be. You’re not supposed to be a wolf! This is typical status behavior, and if Hank pulls you in, you can kiss your freedom goodbye. Lower your goddamn gaze! Act like it’s a mistake and you have no idea what you’re doing.
I tore my eyes from Hank.