Into Their Woods (The Eerie, #1)

I shake my head at Perth. Always trying to stir the pot, little shit.

Ellery scoffs as though Perth’s statement is outrageous instead of fact. He doesn’t actually deny anything though—because he knows he can’t. Instead, he straightens his blue jacket, tosses his hands in the pockets of his dress pants, and tries to change the subject.

“You look nice,” he tells Noah, his smile warm as his eyes drink her down like she’s a cool glass of water on the hottest day of the summer.

She glances at her mustard-colored sweater and runs her palms over her torso. She’s paired the tight-fitting top with dark jeans and boots that make her the perfect height for kissing.

Shit. Don’t think about kissing. Or how hot she is. We’re lucky she’s even here right now. Don’t blow it.

“Thanks,” Noah replies lightly, a tinge of pink coloring her cheeks. “You guys clean up well. I honestly feel a little underdressed,” she admits, gesturing toward the slacks and button-down shirts we’re all sporting. “Karen would be proud,” she snarks.

I grin, though I’m personally glad the deputy has the night off and we get Noah to ourselves without the constantly running side commentary. I touch my shirt a little self-consciously though. We always dress up for these things. Mostly because it makes Melana Arcan, Ellery’s mom and our luna, happy. Deep down though, it’s because of the wall of shame.

Luna Arcan doesn’t call it that, of course. To her, the wall shows off her amateur photography skills with a priceless collection of memories caught on film. All the rest of us see though are pictures capturing every awkward moment.

Ellery would give anything to burn the framed photo of him in a wrinkled Piglet shirt that Perth dared him to wear at age twelve, his big smile showing off a chunk of something green caught in his teeth.

There are far too many snapped and displayed prints of our bed hair, us stuffing our faces, trying to light our farts on fire, or merely just existing all gangly and awkward before puberty did its thing. We’ve learned our lesson. Now, we all come ready with blinding grins, respectful outfits, and our heads on a swivel for the luna and her sneaky camera.

Unfortunately, I don’t know how to explain any of this to Noah. Judging by the other guys’ silence, they don’t either. We’re on shaky ground with her, and making her feel self-conscious about photos on top of everything else…just nope.

After the confrontation this morning, things are even more uncertain than they were before. And we were already tiptoeing across quicksand.

It probably doesn’t help that we’re all too worried to outright ask if her instincts are telling her what ours are, that she’s our mate. But that will only put more pressure on her, and that’s the last thing she needs.

This whole dinner is going to be a lot to take in. Dumping more on Noah by meeting extended family—when she’s not even onboard with accepting us as mates yet—feels like a bad idea. Honestly, everything that’s happened since the Hunt is a huge bowl of too-much-too-soon, and we’re all just wolfing it down and hoping no one chokes on it.

“You’re not underdressed; you have us all beat by a mile,” I reassure Noah, trying and failing not to drool all over her. “No one’s even going to notice us when they get a look at you.”

Noah winces and the sharp tang of her apprehension fills the air. I instantly want to junk-punch myself.

Why did I say that? Now she’s even more nervous than she was before. Fix it, dumbass. Say something calming.

She’s already turning and following Ellery down the path when I manage to speak. “Your yellow sweater makes your eyes look really pretty, they’re more…green today,” I bumble like some doltish caveman.

You beautiful. Grunt. Me like. Ugh, I’m a fucking idiot!

It’s all I can do not to immediately bash my head against a wall. I swear I’m not this dumb or shallow, but the overwhelming need to be near her, to smell her, to touch her has turned me into a pile of useless goo. The mate claim is riding each of us so hard, calling to our baser natures and making our ability to function on any kind of intelligent level way too fucking hard.

“Can you even see her eyes?” Perth snarkily mindspeaks, his judgmental ribbing coming through loud and clear. “Looks like you can only see her ass from here.”

“Fuck off. I noticed her eyes earlier.”

“She does look good though…and seriously, it’s such a good ass.”

“The best.”

We share an internal sigh as Ellery swoops ahead to open the gate to the back like a gentleman. The wooden arch swings open with the tiniest of squeaks that’s quickly overpowered by the sounds of my rambunctious nieces and nephews.

I reach up and touch my hair as we walk, checking it in the reflection of the windows, making sure it’s still gelled in place, because my family will be here tonight too.

“Don’t worry. You look pretty too. Doesn’t he, Noah?” Perth gives a smirking grin from where he’s striding at my side. Normally, I’d roll my eyes at his antics, but seeing my family always leaves me a little on edge, and I know tonight is going to be worse than normal.

Gannon just stays silent and stoic like always.

“Charles is here,” Ellery announces, as if any of us missed the telltale chaos that always accompanies my oldest brother and his den.

There’s no mistaking their brood of utterly adorable and loud little shifters, usually being chased by Steph—Charles’s mate—and the rest of his den.

I simply nod, hoping they don’t scare Noah off. The idea of family and kids seemed to make her go a bit pale when we talked about what life looked like for a mated den. What if seeing my brother’s family tips her over the edge and convinces her to leave?

I hate feeling so insecure about everything—it’s not something me and the other guys usually have to navigate. We’ve known our place with each other and in the pack for some time. We all thought our mate would fit in seamlessly when we found her.

Joke’s on us.

“Oh,” Noah gasps and my head jerks in her direction, muscles immediately tensed, eyes scanning the woods all around us for a threat.

When I realize her exclamation was one of awe and her scent isn’t distressed, I relax my stance and follow her gaze. She’s staring out at the lake behind the alpha’s house.

Ivy Asher, Ann Denton's books