The afternoon crept by at a snail’s pace as he continued to glance at the slowly setting sun. It was almost sacrilege for him to think this, but get the fuck out of here, sun.
Macauley hefted the new coffee table he’d made for Michelle—an unmated female beta he’d been known to visit with during the full moon and a few times in between—in exchange for a new pair of jeans and some North Face hiking boots.
The shifters who left the pack lands to work in human establishments would often use their paycheck and employee discount to buy goods to barter with at home since Justice didn’t require they pay rent or utilities. But everyone was expected to contribute; no shifter was permitted to laze around all day. Packs took hard work and mobility from its members to function properly and prosper. Money wasn’t something they needed an abundance of when they were efficient at living off the land.
However, the vampires were a different story. It was a good thing Wick had come from wealth because he’d had to make significant renovations to accommodate the vast comforts his royal court was accustomed to.
Macauley walked the quiet path towards the other side of the compound, shaking his head at how quiet and depressing it was. The yards were usually filled with energetic pups chasing each other and playing games, pack members visiting with friends after work, and farmers in the fields, wrapping up for the day. The pack officers had immediately implemented a 6:00 p.m. curfew, so most of the pack were already sheltered safe inside their homes with their families.
Macauley hoped that after twenty-four hours of incarceration, the prisoners Wick had detained would be ready to talk. Justice would need answers before he allowed things to go back to routine, and they were all free to roam the woods without the threat of danger.
Macauley waved his free hand at one of the guards walking the perimeter.
“Evening, Mac,” Zorn muttered, not breaking stride. “Where are your shadow puppets?”
“I made them stay inside.”
“Oh, I bet they loved that,” Zorn chuckled, never taking his sharp gaze off the tree line as he continued past him.
Bundy, Rich, and Anna had lost their shit when he enforced the curfew on his own betas as well. Anna questioned if Macauley took her title seriously. Even after promising to come back and get them before he went to the war room tonight didn’t appease them. He had not had the time nor patience to explain to them that, yes, as his betas, their jobs were to be at his side, but as their alpha, it was his duty to keep them safe.
Besides, he feared his young friends would see battle soon enough.
Macauley didn’t need to knock when he approached Michelle’s cabin; she was already standing in the entranceway waiting for him in a light pink, lacy teddy thing. “Holy shit.”
She smiled, her bronze-colored feline eyes glittering with seductive mischief. “Now, that’s what I like to hear when my alpha sees me.”
She held the door open wide enough for him and the table to pass through. Once he was inside, she closed and locked it behind them. From her blossoming scent, it was obvious that her intention was not for him to just deliver the table and make their barter. She had something else to sweeten her deal.
Macauley set the table down in the center of the sheepskin rug in her living room. She had a small, one-level, one-bedroom cottage that she’d decorated nicely. The love seat and recliner in front of the television were adorned with thick throw pillows and smelled of her natural sugary scent. The fireplace was roaring, and the interior was so warm it’d have made any man want to take his hat off and stay a while.
He’d always felt relaxed and satisfied when he was in her bed but never felt much more. Neither did she, and it was pointless for her to try to pretend she did. He would know of her dishonesty. Therefore, Michelle had always been bold and direct in what she wanted from him.
His dick.
And Macauley had appreciated that confidence. Had appreciated the hell out of it all over her cabin. But as he stood there gazing at all her supple, creamy skin and those endless legs that used to clamp around him and hold him captive, he felt nothing. Her black-widow mating habits used to send fire streaking through his balls. Now, all he could think of was that the sun was down, and how late would Adres be sleeping in? Was he exhausted from fighting? Had he fed before he went to bed?
Goddammit! Who did he feed from?
“Mac, baby.” Michelle opened her sheer robe a little wider. “I can see last night has you crazy tense. Let me take care of that for you.”