“Says the guy who wears cartoon shirts.”
“Maturity is based on the decisions you make, not what’s in your damn closet.”
“That’s debatable,” Reno muttered, watching a hawk fly overhead.
“Get off my back. I like my style and if I want to be two hundred and wearing a Donald Duck shirt, then you’re just gonna have to live with it.”
Shifters physically aged slower than humans did, and they all ran at different speeds. Reno looked like a seasoned man of thirty-five, even though in years he exceeded that by a century. As the alpha, Austin naturally had gained a formidable appearance early on and would likely retain it for a while.
“There are still just six of us. Ten if you count the girls, and only Ivy and Lexi are Shifters,” Reno pointed out. Ivy was the new blood in the pack, recently traded over by her father. It wasn’t common for a woman to come into a pack unmated to a male, so they treated her as a sister to prevent any friction.
“Well, there are too many rogues around here I wouldn’t trust,” Denver said. “Some of the larger packs might want to trade over, but they like to pass off their problem children like hot potatoes. Funny how humans have no idea how many of us there are living around here.”
True.
Shifters couldn’t smell one another, but sometimes they could pick up on Breed energy if they got close enough. Not always, but it helped since alphas didn’t have any tells like unique eye colors. The Packmasters usually got tattoos and made their identities known, so they were always easy to spot. Being an alpha was one thing, but a Packmaster held an important rank, and a hierarchy existed among their kind. There was even a pecking order among Packmasters.
“We should keep a close eye for candidates when going out,” Reno said. “Maybe drop a suggestion in Austin’s ear.”
It’s why clubs and bars often had a Shifters’ night. They needed to congregate and socialize, not only to build alliances with other packs, but also to scope out potentials for their own family. Sometimes friction existed in the packs with too many dominant males and that got resolved by a little pack trading.
“How’s your arm? Did you shift again?”
“Yeah,” Reno said, rubbing at it. The wound had been itching for the last two hours. “I did a quick shift in the bathroom, but that’s as much as it’s going to heal. It’s just sore as hell.”
Denver examined the scar and then sat back, touching the one on his forehead. “Well, if your wolf didn’t shift back for two days, it must have been for good reason.”
Damn, now Reno was thinking about it again. He took a slow sip from his beer bottle and had a strange feeling come over him. An alarming tingle raced up his spine and made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
He fished his hand in his pocket and twirled a small object between his fingers. “I’m heading back into town.”
“The fuck you are,” Denver retorted.
Reno stood up and stretched his stiff back. “Tag along if you want, but I can’t sit around here. My wolf was out for too long and now I’m restless; you know that feeling. I need to walk it out of my system.”
“We could meet up and bowl with the guys.”
“I don’t bowl.”
Denver rocked with laughter and raised his beer in a toast. “Oh yeah, I forgot. The only balls you play with are your own.”
***
“Trevor, I can’t afford that. Put it back!” I laughed as he stood at the end of the grocery aisle, holding a steak like one of those game-show models.
“It’s on me,” he said, tossing it into the cart.
“And where are you getting this newfound money, Daddy Warbucks?”
A slender girl in a pair of white jeans sauntered by Trevor and batted her long lashes. I peered over my shoulder as we passed her.
“She’s looking at my ass, isn’t she?” Trevor muttered.
“Can you blame her? Now, back to the money.”
“I’ve got a little tucked away. The ex took care of all the bills,” he said with disdain. “I had a part-time job, so I made enough to stash a few dollars in my piggy bank.”
So that’s why he’d reacted to my comment about being taken care of. Trevor hadn’t hashed out the details of their separation, but maybe his ex had held that over his head and made him feel inferior.
“Well, just don’t spend it all on food. You need to tuck it away for your future, not expensive cuts of meat.”
“And that’s exactly why someday you’re going to be one of those rich old ladies with a million dollars stashed in the freezer. Most of us are impulse shoppers. We see it and got to have it.” Trevor lifted a pack of tuna and glanced at the label, privately chuckling as he put it back on the shelf. “You can tell a lot about a person who fills their cabinets with that shit.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing,” he murmured, resting his elbows on the shopping cart handle. “Who’s this party for?”
“You remember Lexi, my boss? Well, she just moved in with this guy and all his brothers, I guess.”