“We’ve got everything under control,” Reno said in a flat voice, not showing any signs of incompetence. “Anyone who shifts will be escorted off the property and reported to their Packmaster.”
“Hmm,” Lorenzo purred. “Seems easier said than done.” A smile hovered on his lips as he watched a black wolf taking a piss on a nearby oak tree. “You should have invited more single women. There never seems to be quality bitches at these functions, and I deeply enjoy selecting new blood for my pack,” he said, his tone arrogant.
Reno had to agree with him for the most part. Women balanced things out, and a bunch of men getting together became nothing but trouble. Packmasters were attracted to large gatherings so they could strengthen alliances and the pack could find new mates. But it sounded more like Lorenzo was looking to add to his personal collection.
Reno paced the grounds, shoving a few guys who were acting sketchy. It smartened them up for a fraction of a second before they trailed off again. Beneath the aging oak tree on the front lawn, Ivy stood on the new swing that Austin had put up for Maizy. It was one of those old-fashioned rope swings with a flat board to sit on. She had decorated it earlier with a strand of ivy and battery-operated twinkle lights wrapped around the ropes. Her shoes sat at the base of the tree and she gracefully swung forward, gazing at the canopy of branches overhead.
“What’s going on out here?” Reno asked.
“A beautiful sky that’s been smiling over us for a billion years,” she said in awe. “An old tree that’s putting up with me tugging on its arm. The wind giving me a breath to float on.”
The branch creaked above as she continued pulling and pushing on the ropes. Ivy had a way with words, but this wasn’t Ivy talking.
“What’s wrong with you?”
A gust of wind lifted her dress at the hem, showing a little leg. She smiled as she glanced down at him, looking like an enchanted being out of a fairytale. Strands of mahogany hair had come loose from her long braid, not that she cared. Reno didn’t know what to make of it and turned around to see where Austin had gone.
“Is everything under control?” Lorenzo interrupted, slowing his stride until he stood beside Reno.
“You can’t control life,” Ivy interjected, her eyes wide on the night sky above.
Reno noticed Lorenzo watching her in a way that made his wolf want to bite him in the ass. Had Lorenzo been anyone but a Packmaster, Reno would have knocked him down for looking at his pack sister that way. He had no problems confronting a rogue alpha male, but rules were rules, and you never put your hands on a Packmaster.
“Who is this woman?” Lorenzo wondered in low words.
“My sister, so if you would respectfully back the fuck off, I’d appreciate it,” Reno said, warning him through clenched teeth. At least, as much as he could warn a Packmaster.
“I’m the tree fairy,” Ivy sang in a beautiful voice, the swing really going now and the wind undoing her braided hair. “I’m here to grant you three wishes,” she said to Lorenzo. “Don’t tell me what they are, just think about them, and if it’s something you truly want, then it will be planted in my heart. It will grow branches and leaves and bear fruit.”
Lorenzo’s jaw slackened as he was completely enthralled by her words.
“Tell me,” she said, her eyes fixed on Lorenzo. “What do you think trees dream about?” Her hair blew forward and backward with each soft swing, one tendril getting caught on her full mouth. “Do they miss their acorns when they fall to the ground and are scattered away from their reach? Trees are strong and immovable, but they sway. They are rough, but their leaves are as soft as kisses. I think they dream about love. I think they’re jealous of free spirits who can run, and that’s why we fall from their branches. We think they are protecting us because we are beneath them, but their arms do not wrap around our bodies.”
Reno grabbed Lorenzo’s jaw and turned his head. “You need to help us get some of your pack under control,” he said firmly. “One of yours just took off behind the house.”
That snagged Lorenzo’s attention and his eyes darkened. Lorenzo had zero tolerance for insubordination.
“Who?”
“Handlebar mustache, tats on his hands, and his wolf just ran by. White with a black leg.”
“Saul,” he said with a scowl.
Three seconds later, Lorenzo spun on his heel and stalked across the grounds to kick some Shifter ass back in line.
“I think he’s an old oak,” Ivy said in a distant voice, watching Lorenzo with an enigmatic gaze.
***
“Who listens to Pink Floyd anymore?” I said with a laugh, staring at a poster on the wall. It seemed to be shifting colors all on its own.
“Blasphemy,” Jericho replied, still kissing on the blonde he had pushed up against the wall in his bedroom. The chesty girl with the leather pants was on the bed, engrossed in a magazine.