Sometimes I take for granted how gorgeous this place is. I’ve been coming here my entire life, and it’s easy to miss things that now seem normal. But I take a moment to try to see things through her eyes. The pear-shaped body of water is lined with dull gray rocks and surrounded by a variety of both pines and deciduous trees, heavy on the aspens, whose white bark and gleaming gold leaves stand out starkly in the afternoon light. A pair of ducks rises from the water, taking to the sky. No other houses or hints of civilization can be seen. The view is the very definition of peace—it settles something deep inside my belly, and I wonder if it’s currently doing the same for her. I hope so.
Of course, that peace is shattered a second later when one of my nephews comes barreling at us, top speed, head lowered, fingers poised like bull horns, a giant bellow ripping from his lungs. I have to crouch down to swoop him up in order to avoid a headbutt to the thigh.
“Whoa, Jayden! Slow down there, little man.”
“I’m not a man. I’m a bull.” He kicks at the air as if he’s pawing at the ground, and I have to turn him to avoid getting it right in the nuts.
“A bull? What’s wrong with being a wolf?” Perth teases the seven-year-old as I set him back on the ground and ruffle his hair.
“Wolves don’t have horns. They’re boring!” Jayden declares, his nose stuck up in the air as if he’s daring us to argue with that point.
“True. But in Spain, people chase bulls all through the town.” Perth gears up for an epic battle, bending forward to poke my most aggressive nephew in the belly.
“Not true. Bulls chase the people!”
“Nope. People chase the bulls. And when they catch them, they tickle them.” Perth waggles his fingers, and my nephew shrieks in delight, catching onto the game. The two of them go streaking across the grass toward the patio.
My eyes drift over to Noah, trying to gauge her response to this tiny taste of the chaos that is my family tree. She’s staring after Perth and biting her lip, holding in a small smile, expression soft. I let out a deep breath, tension riding my exhale. I feel hopeful, staring at her next to Ellery, poised and collected, the afternoon sun kissing her cheeks and the side of her neck. This is going to work.
“Hey! Fuckstick!”
Or maybe not.
I cringe as my other older brother, Kyson, strides over. I didn’t know he would be here today—fucking hell.
The tension I was just letting go of does a U-turn and parks right back on my chest as he comes to greet us. I stare at his brown hair, which is combed for once. He’s a few inches shorter than me, something he’s hated since I shot up at eighteen. Just like the rest of my family, he’s pure muscle and practiced menace.
I’m surprised Charles isn’t hot on his heels. They’re not in the same den, but they’ve been attached at the hip for as long as I can remember. I swear the two of them only know how to bond over CrossFit and triathlons. They speak a weird language that revolves around protein powder, how much they bench, and deep discussions about protection tactics. I work out, but talking about it is about as interesting as discussing computer processors. Blech.
Kyson’s wearing his typical tough-guy uniform of all black. His T-shirt has the sleeves ripped off, and his biker boots thud loudly on the gravel as he stomps closer. I manage a half-hearted grin to be polite, and my brother tosses a nod toward Ellery and Gannon as he strides over. I can tell the moment he spots Noah, because he stops short and gapes for a beat before getting his shit together. Then the brother, who’s six years older than me and the bane of my childhood existence, reaches out and grabs Noah’s hand like he’s a gentleman and not the antagonistic, hotheaded enforcer that I know he is.
My stomach instantly coils like a snake that wants to strike. I hate that he’s touching her, but I hate the smarmy expression on his face more, and the way he juts his chin out like he’s all-fucking-that and wants to give my mate every opportunity to take in his magnificence.
“Noah, this is…my brother Kyson,” I introduce him reluctantly. Because I refuse to be the same sort of hothead that Kyson is, I swallow the growl building in my chest and tamp down the raging desire to deck him. If I give the slightest hint that what he’s doing bothers me, he’ll just double down and be even more annoying about it. My eyes drift toward the lake for a second, as I try to maintain my composure.
Noah’s hi is brief and flat. Disinterested.
“Damn,” Kyson exclaims. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but I wasn’t expecting you,” he announces as he pointedly looks Noah up and down in what he thinks is a compliment. She casually pulls her hand from his and takes a discreet step back, clearly uncomfortable. “Are you sure you’re with the right den, angel?” he jeers, like the arrogant ass he is. “Because I’d love to introduce you to mine.”
Ellery’s eyes flash wolf, and he takes a threatening step toward Kyson, putting his body in front of Noah’s. Gannon stiffens but lets Ellery take point. My brother laughs as he skates back, lifting his hands in surrender while still staring salaciously and unapologetically at our mate.
My chest thrums with heated aggression as I take a step closer too, the need to lash out at my brother worse than ever. If it wouldn’t freak Noah out, I’d encourage Ellery to fuck Kyson up for his blatant disrespect. Fuck knows I’d like to do it myself, but it would piss off my dads and guarantee their bitching for the next year. Despite the fact that my older brothers never fight fair and still manage to lose when they square off against me, I’m always blamed.
“Apologize to our mate,” Ellery commands.
“Mate?” Kyson questions with a tsk. “I don’t know about that, Ellery, doesn’t look like she’s got your mark yet,” Kyson counters, dancing around the line of respect by tilting his head and exposing his neck but keeping his facial expression utterly disdainful.
That motherfucker.
He’s here to start shit. It’s written all over his pompous face.
I should have known this would happen. This sort of get-together is normally too tame for him. I don’t know why I thought he’d be here to actually support us. A quick survey of the yard behind him shows that none of his denmates are here, which is a good thing, because they’re attracted to aggression like flies to shit. But for him to come out today just to make a mess of things for me and our chances with Noah…
I hate that I know that’s exactly what Kyson’s here to do. Family is everything. Whether that’s the one you’re born into or the one you create with your den, those relationships are sacred. But as I stare into my brother’s hard hazel eyes, there’s no denying the truth. That asshole blames me for being born and for every perceived slight or wrong thing that’s happened to him since. He just can’t waste a single opportunity to screw with me.
Ellery takes another step forward, his hand going to Kyson’s shoulder and squeezing hard, pressing in on a nerve running just inside the muscle. My brother’s jaw clicks together and his body tenses. He tries to fight it at first, but there’s no fighting the dominance coming off of our future alpha. Slowly Kyson’s eyes drop and he tilts his head, Ellery forcing him to submit.
Kyson clears his throat to cover up the small whine that sneaks up his throat. “Gonna go grab myself a drink,” he says to save face before turning and stomping off.