Is this what Alpha Morgan meant about pack? People who will have your back and fight for you no matter what, all because you’re one of them?
Ellery, Ruger, Perth, and Gannon were all furious on my behalf too, but I figured that was thanks to the mate claim. I mean, what happened to me directly affected them too. They’re stuck with some woman who doesn’t know jack-shit about their world or even if she wants a mate, so they’d obviously have feelings about that. But to see perfect strangers enraged over what was done to me…well, it’s surprisingly touching.
“Interviewing the dens that were hanging around that night, and chasing any other leads that come up,” Karen answers, and Dillon’s brows dip in thought.
“You’re just interviewing dens?” he questions, looking around the room.
“Yeah, for now,” Karen tells him.
“Well, isn’t that a little sexist?” he asks. “I mean, it was a Hunt night, and yeah, that means the dens were out in force. But so were the lone wolves who were running. Most lone shifters are women, right?”
“Yes…” Ellery’s brow furrows.
“What if a woman who was set to run backed out at the last second? What if she didn’t really want to or was being pressured into it, so she tossed someone into her cape to take her place, stole a car, and hightailed it out of town… You’re looking for a den, but maybe you should be looking for a she-wolf.”
17
NOAH
Ellery grimaces when Karen immediately agrees with Dillon.
I furrow my brow and ask, “I thought women chose to run?”
The sheriff’s eyes shoot over to me. “They do.”
But Karen cuts him off. “Well, yeah, technically they do. But all kinds of people in a relationship can feel pressured to take that next step. Or families can pile on.” Next to me, she waves her muffin to emphasize her point. “He’s right. Female shifters are just as strong as males. Some of them anyway. Our attacker could be either.”
Oh fuck. That would put us back to square one. Or did we ever leave it? Why is a real-life investigation nothing like the TV shows? Why can’t we have wrapped up this shit in an hour? It’s been days of wondering and agonizing. And it’s still not over. Now, a whole new set of possibilities just opened up. Could that be what actually happened? Could it have been a shifter woman who got cold feet? Did she see me as her way out?
“It’s worth exploring,” the sheriff reluctantly acknowledges as he leans back in his chair. “But we suspect someone’s been following Noah around town.” He turns to me. “The person you saw, any chance it could be a woman?”
“I don’t know,” I admit, thinking about all the different eeries Alpha Morgan said lived in Howling Rapids. “Unless the pack has their very own Brienne of Tarth, they looked too big to be a woman. But that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. I couldn’t definitively say what kind of eerie they were or that I didn’t get spooked by someone who was just out for a walk and I misread the situation.”
Ellery shoots me a disapproving look at that last part, but I ignore it. I know it’s important to trust my gut, but it’s also important to be realistic too. I don’t know for sure that someone was following me around, and until I do, it’s smart to consider all theories.
“To be fair, if someone is following her, it could be because she smells like a partial mate bond. You know something like that is going to draw attention. If it goes too long, you’re going to start facing challenges, even if you’re the celestial,” Hank interjects, and both Fife and Bucky nod in agreement.
Ellery pushes back from the table and stands. “If you want to officially challenge me, we can go outside and take care of this right fucking now,” he snarls.
A wave of furious possessiveness washes over the room and nearly buckles my knees. There’s suddenly a scent filling my nostrils that I can’t identify, and I start panting. The muffin in my hand becomes a stress ball, and I squeeze it. My nipples tighten and I panic that everyone can see them right through my T-shirt.
Holy hell, what is this?
“I appreciate you guys coming in,” he declares stiffly, walking over and pulling open the door in a clear dismissal. “If you think of anything else that might be helpful, please call or stop by.”
The Sullivan den all get up and throw concerned and apologetic looks at me before they start to file out. The box of muffins is left behind.
“Be sure to get some sleep, Brooks,” Fife calls out, giving him a friendly little wave, oblivious to the vibe in the room.
Brooks huffs out a laugh. “Will do. Last witch reno project for me. Hopefully, we’ll be done soon.”
Brooks and Hank leave without another word, and Dillon pauses in the doorway. “I’m here to help if you need anything,” he offers. After a nod from Ellery, he follows the rest of his den.
As soon as they’re gone, Ellery shuts the door. He strides right to me and looms, forcing me to look up at him, my neck exposed. Those eyes of his glide over me, and damn if I don’t feel them like a caress. Everyone else in the room just becomes a dab of color as I focus in on his face.
“Are you hungry?” he asks softly, tone R-rated and completely inappropriate for the workplace.
“Um…no,” I answer, still confused about what is happening and why my body feels like a puppet on strings with Ellery as its puppeteer.
“Are you going to eat that?” he presses, nodding his chin at my muffin.
I look down at the misshapen and crumbling baked good still clutched in my hand. “Uh…I wasn’t planning on it. Do you want it?” I hold it up to him, and he looks like I just offered him a dead rat.
“If you’re hungry, tell me, and I’ll get you food,” he mandates, and I nod, not sure what the hell is going on right now.
Ellery takes the muffin from my hand.
“Good girl,” he praises inside my head.
Oh shit. Without my knowing it, someone erected an entire waterpark between my thighs. And those words…yeah, they fucking turned on the slides.
He inhales and I swear he can smell what just happened to me. My cheeks glow as bright red as the crystals on the table behind him.
Turning, Ellery wears a smirk as he walks across the room and drops the muffin in the garbage can, just as a huge man appears in the doorway. The sheriff waves the man in.
I’m distracted when Karen presses a hand to my arm, and I look over at her instead of watching the new den enter.
“Heads up,” she whispers. “Shifters are weird as hell when it comes to providing for their mate. He won’t like anyone trying to take care of you when that’s his and his den’s responsibility,” she explains, squeezing my arm once before sliding away along the wall again.
Like a struck match, understanding sparks through me. Oh. Duh. That explains so much about the past couple of days and my babysitter bodyguards.
I smile at Karen in gratitude and turn to find three frat-boy-esque men pulling out seats on the other side of the long table. One of them is wearing a black cowboy hat that’s seen better days, it looks like a mouse has been chewing on the brim. It was dark the night I ran into him, but I have no doubt that this is the guy I saw after the coffee shop. He leers at me, and I instantly feel the need to get as far away from him as I can.