2

Remy opened his mouth, but Dom cut him off before he could speak. “Aiden.” His voice was quiet, but it carried unmistakable authority. The man who’d slut-shamed her bowed his head.

It was an impressive display of power, and if Remy had done it, she would have whistled and slow-clapped. But things were different with Dom. She held her breath when he turned his gaze to hers. He wasn’t here for a social call or a family reunion. There was only one reason why five males from her pack were in her apartment, and it wasn’t a good one.

At least not for her.

Dom pushed away from the mantel and stood with his hands at his sides, ready for a chase. Or a fight. “We will leave, but you’re leaving with us.”

Her heart pounded. Dammit. He was right. She’d forgotten her training— or just hadn’t used it in a long time. There had been no need when the only time she saw another wolf was in a zoo or on television.

She glanced around her apartment, noting how they’d positioned themselves in strategic locations. The male behind her ensured she couldn’t leave through the front door, and the two by the sliders would stop her before she even touched the glass, let alone jumped off the balcony. Remy hovered in the doorway leading to her bedroom, which was inconvenient, considering it had a nice, big window perfect for escaping a bunch of werewolves.

Remy winked at her, clearly enjoying the role of good cop to Dom’s bad cop.

The only other room was the kitchen, and it was windowless. She was out of options, unless she was willing to fight tooth and nail—literally—against being dragged home.

Home. She glanced around her tiny apartment. It was small, but she’d picked out every piece of furniture and knickknack herself. She painted the artwork above the fireplace at one of those art and canvas parties with a group of girls from the college. The stack of books on the table next to the slipcovered sofa was part of a growing to-be-read pile she’d intended to dig into that very night, right after some much-needed N*****x binge-watching. She’d carved out a life for herself these past five years, and the apartment was a physical, tangible representation of an independence she couldn’t, wouldn’t give up.

She met Dom’s gaze. “What does he want with me?”

“I expect Max will tell you when you see him.”

Max. Shivers rippled over her skin. Maxime Simard, pack Alpha and petty dictator.

She gritted her teeth. Her heart still pounded, and she knew they could hear it. They could smell her fear, too. “Has our lord and master ever heard of email?”

Dom refused to be drawn in. “We have our orders.”

“And if I refuse, what? Club me over the head and drag me back caveman style?”

“I don’t think it will come to that.”

He took no pleasure in this. That’s what she told herself. And it was true to a certain extent. From birth, wolves were trained to master their emotions and physiological reactions. It was crucial to blending into the human world. In medieval times, sprouting fur or fangs in public got a person burned at the stake. In modern society, it ended up on YouTube. These men had been trained to do a job, and they were doing it. It wasn’t personal. They weren’t here to punish her or disrupt her life.

Although just then, Aiden inhaled deeply and deliberately. His nostrils flared, and his slight smile let her know he’d scented her fear…and relished it. For the merest second, he let his wolf roll over his eyes, the color shifting from ordinary brown to an unnatural blue.

She jerked her gaze away before her own wolf could respond. He’d challenged her, knowing she had no choice but to submit. Even at her best, which she wasn’t at the moment, there was no way she could take on a fully grown male in his prime.

Remy, who was closest to him, sucked in a breath. “Aiden.” The command in his voice transformed him from a friendly blond lumberjack to a menacing werewolf. He took a threatening step toward the other male, who dropped his head and raised his arms, palms out in a show of submission. “Forgive me. It’s…close in here.”

Dom, who’d moved toward the pair, rested his hand on Remy’s back for a brief moment before stepping past him. He stood toe-to-toe with the chastened male, whose head bowed even lower under Dom’s glare. “You know who she is, Aiden. Don’t be foolish.”

“Yes, sir.”

Dom leaned closer. “You won’t make this mistake again.” He made it a statement.

Aiden lowered his brown head until his chin touched his chest. “I will not, Beta.”

Well, that’s new. Lizette paid little attention to pack politics, but even she knew the top wolves among the Alpha’s inner circle. The Beta was the second-in-command and served as the Alpha’s eyes and ears within the pack. Part enforcer, part trusted adviser, the Beta position inspired both respect and fear. Remy jokingly called it the “werewolf consigliere.”

Lizette looked at Remy and caught her breath. There was nothing goodnatured about his expression now. She followed his gaze to Dom, who still towered over Aiden. Had Remy fought Dom for the Beta position and lost? They’d been Hunters—wolves handpicked by the Alpha to watch his back and further pack interests—since they were teens, and best friends since childhood. Like most best friends, they were competitive, but it had always been a friendly competition.

The menace rolling off Remy was anything but friendly. His green eyes glittered wolf-blue for a second—so fast she would have missed it if she hadn’t been looking at him. They flickered back to normal, but he kept his gaze trained on Dom’s turned back. An inhuman growl rose from his chest, so low no human could have heard it. The little hairs on her nape lifted.

She looked at Dom just in time to see the muscles in his back tense. He spoke without turning around. “Something to add, Remy?” He didn’t raise his voice, but his tone made her stomach flip over. The room seemed too small to contain the people and furniture inside. A grinding pressure descended, making her chest ache with the effort of breathing.

Then Remy closed his eyes. He shook himself the way a dog might when it gets out of a pool. It was like someone flipped a switch or opened a window. The awful pressure lifted. Around the room everyone exhaled.

Remy shrugged. “I’ve got nothing to add, Dom.”

Lizette sagged against the foyer table where she’d tossed her keys. This was why she lived alone. Life with werewolves was too damn intense.