Pack and Coven (8 page)

It didn't explain why so much of the pack had come instead of Gavin alone. Roanoke wasn't far. If Bianca didn't pick him, he could return to his original pack before severance hit, provided they still wanted someone that unpleasant around.

It was too confusing. Neither she nor her group were experts on shifter politics. That would be a New York or Alaska coven.

Harry scooched against the far door and shot June a piercing glance. “Come here,” he said as he dragged her against him.

In their high-stress situation, he was exerting too much alpha himself. What was she going to do with the man? Did he have a pack wish?

Douglas noticed too and studied them with a lot of curiosity. Humans weren't weak, but it wouldn't do to rouse his interest.

June snuggled into Harry's embrace, propping her injured wrist on her large purse. Water droplets beaded on the shiny surface. “Mr. Householder, we can't thank you enough. Can we give you some gas money?”

“Don't insult me,” Douglas said. “Happy to help.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Harry managed. “I just hope we don't get hassled by the cops for abandoning the scene of an accident.”

“We were the only ones hurt.” Under cover of her purse, June pinched him. “They'll think we went for help.”

“I'll put in a word for you with the police,” Douglas added. “Don't worry about it, son. Your lady looks like she could use a trip to the ER.”

“You try telling her that,” Harry said, some of his tension easing.

June didn't argue. With one wrist sprained and the other wrapped in a bloody T-shirt, she was in a sad state. Her nylons were ripped; her skirt was a mess. And she had no idea what kind of impression Harry was giving Douglas. Due to the talc spell—since it was hers—he might seem effeminate and dim as well as stubborn.

Hmm. No wonder Douglas figured the two of them couldn't fend for themselves.

The other shifters settled into the truck bed. He cranked the vehicle into gear, and they bounced onto the pavement, leaving her sweet little car next to the crumbled welcome sign. When the cops ran the tags, it would show up as registered to Sandie Travis of Millington, West Virginia.

She'd deal with that after the full moon. She needed to get Harry out of this bonding ceremony first. Burning through her magic so fast hadn't been part of the plan.

After Douglas conferred with a curly-haired woman who looked as if she'd be more at home baking cookies than hunting werewolves, they set out. The adrenaline of their encounter gurgled out of June's system like water from a bath.

When was the last time she'd sapped her magic twice in a row? This was like being back in training. Her innards felt as hollow as a doughnut. She might be the strongest in her coven, maybe the region, but no witch she knew could withstand what she'd dealt with today. She ought to feel proud. Instead she wished she'd managed more than she had.

Well, the adlibbing had thrown her off. So inexact. Give her a recipe any day.

“I am so tired,” she told Harry, unable to conceal a gigantic yawn. “How about you?”

“I'm good.” His thumb stroked the skin above her T-shirt bandage. “How long would you like to sleep?”

Was he asking how much time she'd need before she could cast spells? June yawned again, her vision swimming at the edges.

“I could sleep for thirty hours,” she said.

He spread his legs farther apart and leaned back, adjusting his posture for comfort. His stiffness eased as he held her in a way he'd never held Sandie. Of course, as Sandie, she'd kept her distance from him out of necessity. “That much, huh?”

“It's been a rough day.”

He dropped a kiss on her forehead. Another on her cheek. His lips tickled her skin. “Want me to kiss it and make it better?”

If they weren't pretending to be a couple, she'd push him away. Instead she tilted her face up. For the masquerade, of course.

Their lips brushed. Harry tasted her, tracing the seam of her lips until she parted for him. The slow stroke of his tongue roused her even though their situation was as precarious as a soufflé. She shouldn't feel so thrilled that his interest in her, as June, seemed to be piqued, because nothing could come of it. Nothing.

Reluctantly she broke off the kiss and rested her head against his shoulder. “Thanks. That helped.”

“You're one tough little gal,” Douglas commented. “Most ladies I know would be howling and whining after a wreck like that.”

“Believe me, I'll whine later,” she assured him. Harry's arms tightened around her. “It doesn't seem fair to inflict it on you when you're being so nice to us.”

The big truck climbed out of the valley faster than the Smart car had come into it. At this rate, they'd be in Millington in an hour. The shifters in the bed huddled under a tarp as rain slashed around them.

“They're getting soaked back there,” she commented to Douglas over the flap of wipers.

“It'll cool their jets.” His window was cracked open, and he sniffed. “The rain won't last long.”

“Too bad your truck doesn't have a camper shell.”

“It does. I took it off.” Douglas smiled. “Where were you folks headed?”

“Vacation,” June said at the same time Harry said, “Business.”

“He was working, I was vacationing.” She smiled. Yawned again. She longed to take another nap but it seemed unwise to leave Harry alone with the Roanoke pack. A faulty spell could fizzle on and off like a spotty internet connection.

“You don't have much luggage.” Douglas glanced at her purse. It looked like a pocketbook, but this brand of supply case was specially made by a coven in Maine to be lightweight, sturdy, fashionable and capacious. Lots of inner pockets, zippers, plastic liners and the like, for all a witch's necessities.

“I knew we forgot something,” Harry deadpanned.

“He's so silly. I got his shaving kit.” One more yawn and her epiglottis was going to fall out. “We were going to a beach house in…”

June yawned. Again.

“Virginia Beach,” Harry supplied.

“Mmm-hmm.” Douglas clearly didn't believe them.

They should quit while they were behind. June made a show of rubbing her eyes before she rested her head on Harry's shoulder. For several minutes no one spoke. Harry's familiar odor comforted her while the roar of truck tires on wet pavement lulled her into a trance. Her eyelids drooped.

She came to with a jerk when Douglas asked a question.

“I apologize. I can't seem to stay awake,” she confessed.

She had almost fallen asleep again—it took about five seconds—when Douglas repeated, “I don't think I caught your names.”

“My name is June,” she said, because it was as safe as anything, “and this is Warren.” Warren was Harry's middle name. The Roanoke wolves wouldn't know that.

“Sorry to meet you in unhappy circumstances,” he replied. “In the back are my son Gavin and his friends.”

“He's your son?” Their physical appearance, not to mention their attitudes, were very different.

“That he is.” Douglas sighed, a universal parenting
what are ya gonna do.
“He favors his mother.”

So Gavin, a natural alpha, was the son of Roanoke's pack alpha. Was his mother the female alpha? That had to be tricky.

Gavin in general had to be tricky.

Alphas were rare creatures. Recessives had the potential to become alphas if pressed into service, but the recessiveness allowed them to remain in packs without turmoil. Natural alphas like Gavin and Harry turned indie or pack-hopped if they couldn't bide their time. Considering shifter longevity, that could be a very long time.

Waiting for your dad, maybe your mom, to hie off to the great beyond—June couldn't imagine. It explained why Gavin was thoroughly unpleasant. More than unpleasant. She felt no sympathy. For all she knew, Harry was independent for a similar reason, and it hadn't turned him belligerent. She knew his parents died when he was young but nothing else about his family.

Kinda hard to get a man's backstory when he couldn't tell you he was a wolf.

Seconds later, or so it felt to June, the truck halted in Cranberry Jetty. The rain had stopped and a fat moon plus a million stars shed light on the dark landscape.

“I'm dropping off the boys,” Douglas explained. He pulled over at the visitor's center. A truck lurked in the shadows of the wooden building.

“Did I sleep?” She surreptitiously wiped her mouth to see if she'd drooled.

“For about an hour,” Harry said. “You snore.”

“Don't be teasing your lady after the hard day she's had,” Douglas chided. “Miss June, you didn't make a peep.”

The clock on the dash glowed nine-thirty. Her body ached, and she checked her magic reservoir. She could stay alert now but didn't have enough power to soothe a sloth, much less cast a spell.

Gavin and his friends hopped out of the back, and he rapped on Harry's window.

Reluctant, Harry rolled it partway down and leaned back.

“Where are you taking them?” Gavin asked Douglas.

If he wanted to talk to his father, why hadn't he approached the other window? Gavin exuded the same aggressive cockiness despite his drenching. Harry's arm muscles bunched.

“Wherever they want to go,” Douglas replied.

“Don't be long, Pop. We have work to do.” Gavin turned his attention to June, his gaze pinning her in place as forcefully as grabby hands. He fingered the side of his mouth with the scar. “I'll see you around, chickie.”

“I doubt that,” she said, but he laughed and ambled toward the truck.

Who was driving it? Could they see Harry? She squinted, but it was too far.

“Do you and your son visit Millington often?” she asked Douglas. If he hoped to leave Gavin here permanently, he might mention it. “We could take you out to lunch as a thank you.”

“Gav's dealing with some issues,” Douglas said with a laugh that didn't sound amused. “But no, we haven't visited in a long time. My job doesn't allow me to travel.”

That was putting it lightly.

“Doesn't sound like a job I'd like,” Harry observed. June pressed her foot against his, hard.

Douglas chuckled, and this time his amusement did seem natural. “It's worth it, son. I'll take a rain check on the meal. We have a busy schedule before we head back to Roanoke.”

“What are you doing in town?” Harry asked.

June wanted to hit him. Or kiss him so he'd quit talking. Whatever worked.

“We're doing a geographical survey and helping someone choose a new business partner.”

If they were searching for Harry, that vaguely described their activities near the border. It also described offering Gavin as an alpha candidate.

“You're a good friend,” June told him, hoping Harry would quit pushing his luck. She hoped in vain.

“What kind of business are you in?” he asked.

June pressed his foot again. He'd always been a devil, had Harry. She loved that about him, but right now he needed to can it.

“A little of this, a little of that.” Douglas obviously didn't intend to offer more. “Where can I drop you two?”

“How about a motel?” Harry suggested to June, waggling his eyebrows. “We can pretend we're already on vacation.”

The only motels in town were owned by folks who'd recognize him. It was best if they disappeared off the grid. “I want to sleep in my own bed tonight.”

Douglas wasn't a local. He'd have no way of connecting her house with Harry, and the sooner they were inside its protective spells, the better. She wouldn't be able to cast protections on another location for hours, and she and Harry needed to talk.

He'd touched her skin enough in the past couple hours that he was going to figure out her secret the next time he saw Sandie anyway. She needed to tell him the truth and warn him to keep his yap shut.

She wouldn't tell him everything, though. The secret that the covens kept hidden from shifters remained verboten.

In Millington, she directed Douglas to drop them off at her place. Harry didn't say a word until Douglas turned a careful circle in the driveway, avoiding the Caddy under the awning, and departed down the gravel incline. She'd kept the Smart car in the garage under a cover, which was why Harry had never seen it. She'd known he wouldn't approve and didn't want to hear it.

“You live with Sandie.” His statement wasn't a question. “I've been here a hundred times, and I haven't seen you or smelled you. Were you using your disguise spell?”

“What do you think?” She unlocked the deadbolt, and he followed her into the house.

“I think there are things you're not telling me, and it needs to stop—now. There's too much at stake. If Gavin Householder is involved, people could wind up dead. I don't want one of them to be your grandmother. Or you.”

One crisis at a time. She had a confession to make before she and Harry could deal with anything else, including Roanoke's homicidal heir-apparent.

As soon as he closed the door behind them, Harry called out, “Sandie?”

“You're wasting your breath.” June kicked off her shoes.

“She hasn't picked up the phone in hours. Movie night never lasts this long.” Harry disappeared into the kitchen. She heard his footsteps traverse the small house, doors opening and closing. She waited in the living room, decorated in the style an eighty-year-old tea shop owner might like, for him to return.

He burst in with a panicked expression. She and Harry were close, and she hoped he wasn't dismayed by the truth.

Or angry. He wasn't a man who liked to be fooled.

“Where is she?” He grabbed her shoulders, his eyes pale blue. Either he wasn't bothering to hide his nature or he'd never been this emotional around her. “Sandie threatened to call the cops on Bianca, and I smelled pack outside. They know that she knows me. She could be in trouble.”