Three Hours (Seven Series Book 5)

 

Delgado never called. I kept my phone charged, but the more minutes that ticked by without contact, the more nervous I became. Austin was wrong about which weapons make a man dangerous. We’re all armed in some form or fashion, but pride is the worst weapon of all.

 

Even if I left the Weston pack, they were already involved in a way that couldn’t be undone. The only honorable thing for me to do would be to see this thing through until the end.

 

When nervous, I had a tendency to clean. I spent the rest of the morning polishing every corner of my room, including inside the cabinets. When I found myself cleaning each leaf of a fake plant, I decided it was time to mingle with the household. I changed into a pair of red shorts and another white shirt that tied at the bottom. Since I was now a guest under their roof, I went barefoot, respecting their rules.

 

Austin remained home, waiting for Prince. I helped him move some of the cars out front. Lexi had called us with periodic updates on Maizy. By midafternoon, she confirmed they were still in the waiting room. April invited me to sit with her by the stereo, and she turned on some blues music at a low volume. We talked for a little while, but eventually the chatter died down and she began to read. April was a friendly girl—more shy around men than women—but I adored her sensitive nature.

 

When someone knocked at the front door, April glanced over her shoulder. “That must be Prince. Austin!” she yelled.

 

“Why don’t you answer the door?” I asked with a soft giggle. “The poor man is standing outside and listening to your shouts.”

 

“Normally I would, but I don’t always know the rules when another Packmaster is invited over. They get all funny about stuff like this. A member of the Council came over once and I answered the door in my slippers. That didn’t go over well with Austin, especially when I slipped and fell on my butt.”

 

“This is silly. I’ll get it.”

 

“Wait, I wouldn’t do that. Austin!” she yelled again.

 

I brushed off a chill and headed toward the door. The house was alight with sunshine that filtered through the sheer curtain and cast a luminous gleam across the wood floor.

 

I swung the door open and jutted my hip to the side. “You must be the alpha everyone is fussing over,” I said in a friendly voice.

 

Prince was pleasingly tall and dressed in a casual pair of slacks and a grey button-up shirt. I could sense he had a lot of money. Perhaps it was the sparkly gold watch on his wrist, or maybe it was the expensive cologne I’d become familiar with. Packmasters were usually men with brawn, but he seemed gracefully older and sophisticated. His dark hair was pulled into a tight ponytail, and when he removed his mirrored sunglasses, I stared into his eyes for a little longer than was necessary. One was brown and the other a deep blue.

 

He tucked his glasses in his shirt pocket and inclined his head. “I’m here by invitation. My name is Prince.”

 

“Naya James. Pleasure to meet you.”

 

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss James.” He traced his index finger across an eyebrow and assessed me in the way most Packmasters did.

 

“I’m not a wolf, but feel free to enjoy the view. Come inside.” I turned away just as Austin jogged down the stairs to meet him at the door.

 

“Prince. Thanks for coming on short notice. Have a seat. Do you want anything to drink?”

 

“Thank you for your hospitality, but no.” He swaggered into the living room and sat in a leather chair across from April.

 

She quickly got up and hurried toward the stairs. “I have to get ready for work.”

 

Prince chuckled as he sat down. “Timid little creature. I find her and Reno to be an anomalous pairing.”

 

Austin rubbed the back of his neck and eased into the leather chair opposite Prince. “Yeah, those two are something else.”

 

Then I realized Austin’s behavior had to do with rank. My, the culture of wolves fascinated me. I slinked around the sofa and took a seat in the middle, crossing my legs.

 

Prince unabashedly appraised me from head to toe, a smile playing on his lips.

 

“Has something struck you as amusing?” I asked.

 

His finger and thumb were in the shape of an L, holding up his chin. “Body language intrigues me.”

 

Clearly Prince was an observant man who interpreted every gesture into a meaning.

 

“Careful not to read into me too much, you might be dyslexic. Had I crossed my legs toward Austin—a mated alpha—it might have given you the wrong message about the nature of my relationship with him.”

 

Austin cleared his throat as a warning not to engage in this topic with Prince.

 

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