Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 81808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Something about Reggie and Fletcher was different. I just couldn’t tell what.
“My land is not for sale.”
“Oh no, that’s not what he meant,” Mr. Wentworth chimed in, smiling at me, reaching for my hand. “We just wanted permission to cross it if needed.”
The second I touched his hand, I realized what had confused me about Cunningham. I was more tired than I thought or it would have hit me quicker. He was a shifter; probably wolf, as most shifters I’d come across over the years were. Clearly, Mr. Wentworth was more powerful than Mr. Cunningham and Mr. Beauden, as neither of the other two men had registered as shifters with me. But even though Mr. Wentworth was more powerful than the other two, he wasn’t an alpha. That kind of power was easy to discern, and while Mr. Wentworth was a handsome man, perhaps even beautiful, the most enticing thing about him was his scent. What lingered on him was petrichor and slow-burning fire, a hint of pipe tobacco, a trace of gasoline, and that deep scent of the forest. I could breathe that into my lungs all day.
“We know you’re a lone wolf without a pack,” Fletcher Beauden said gruffly, taking a step toward me. He didn’t sound mean, and the move wasn’t threatening, not yet, but he was being clear. “We’ve been here a couple weeks already getting the lay of the land. But so you know, we have ten families along with fifteen unmated wolves we’re bringing here, and when we have our hunts once a month, we would like to be able to run freely.”
I nodded, looking at Mr. Wentworth. “You’re the most powerful, but you let them both speak while you stay silent. Why is that?”
He took a breath before he spoke. “As Fletcher said, we’ve been here for a bit, looking at the land, watching you, observing your beautiful establishment here, and we like everything we’ve seen.”
“Didn’t answer my question at all, Mr. Wentworth.”
He exhaled sharply. “Please, call me Justin.”
“Okay.”
“I’m the son of the alpha, Abel Swann, but I don’t like to announce that, so I go by my mother’s maiden name unless we’re at the coetus.”
At the what? “Coitus?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.
“No, not—”
“It’s just not a good word,” Mr. Beauden informed Justin. “No offense, and I know it’s correct, but it’s not good. You should say gathering, or hunt, either of those work. But the other is really just terrible.”
“He’s not wrong,” Mr. Cunningham told Justin, and then turned back to me. “At a gathering, when our alpha invites several, or just one other pack to hunt with us? That’s when Justin uses his given name so everyone is clear that he’s the son of the alpha.”
“Ah. Thank you for the clarification, Mr. Cunningham.”
“Just Reggie, please. God, Mr. Cunningham is my father.”
“Same,” Mr. Beauden told me. “Fletcher, okay? Or just Fletch works too.”
“Okay,” I agreed, because formality was a pain.
“He lets us do the talking and uses Wentworth because he doesn’t want people throwing themselves at him,” Reggie said. “I mean, I wouldn’t want that either.”
“Could you not overshare?” Justin snapped, sounding utterly horrified.
“You don’t wanna find a mate?” I asked him.
“No, see, I do want a—”
“They basically try an’ jump him,” Reggie answered me. “People learn you’re next in line to be alpha, and every pack suddenly has a single daughter or son that he just has to meet, who’d be the perfect mate, and it gets to be a bit of a free-for-all. I mean, everyone wants to be the mate of the alpha.”
When he said the words, the three of them looked at me, waiting.
“Of course,” I said, not wanting to be rude.
“Seems like all we did when we lived in the city was keep people off him, yanno?”
I didn’t, but it was certainly plausible. Mating was a very important part of being a wolf and something most packs placed a lot of importance on.
“Women, men,” Fletcher continued. “I mean, Merritt, they all want to roll around in Justin’s scent when he lets loose with the pheromones. Even humans can be influenced by them at times, though they have no idea what they’re reacting to.”
“Like Desmond Laramie,” I said, because suddenly it all made sense. “Did you charm him, Mr. Wentworth?”
“I might have, but again, it’s Justin.”
“Those pheromones of his are powerful,” Fletcher let me know.
I was certain they probably were, and he smelled amazing, but the longer I stood there with him, the clearer it became that the amazing scent did not, in fact, originate with him. He must have bumped someone or brushed up against someone, and I wanted to ask who, but it wasn’t my place. Plus, all my senses were firing, my interest throbbing under my skin, and that, truly, was a temptation I didn’t need. I was a protector of the land, of women and children—that alone was what I had devoted my life to. I lived now, for no other purpose.