Setting the toaster on the floor, he plugged it into the socket, crouched down, and ripped the pastry box open.
“Tell me to go make friends in the kitchen like I’m a goddamn five-year-old,” he muttered to himself. “What the fuck. Stupid fucking Henry. Should move out like Lorien did. I don’t need to goddamn live here.”
He complained to himself the entire time the pastry was cooking, and when it popped, he realized that there was nowhere to put it. He hadn’t gotten a plate.
“Argh, fuck,” he swore to himself as he undertook the less than brilliant idea of using his left hand as the plate. Having burned his palm immediately, he then tried holding it by the very tips of his fingers and shoving it into his mouth. But his mouth wasn’t really any better at dealing with the heat than his hand had been and so he ended up spitting half of it out onto the floor, which was both gross and pissed him off because now he’d wasted a whole bite of the pastry without even getting to eat it.
“Fucking fuck.”
By this time, the pastry was starting to cool so he set about nibbling at the very edges until he reached the searing hot interior, at which point he was forced to pause again until it cooled to an edible temperature. He was not enjoying his breakfast. Will liked enjoying his breakfast, so this was another strike against the assholes downstairs who had made him den up like some feral pastry beast.
There was a brief knock at the door.
He ignored it. Steam curled up from between his fingers. He took a slightly larger bite and regretted it immediately. “Fucking fuck,” he cursed to himself, his mouth open to try to draw air over the molten filling.
Unfortunately, whoever was outside the door took his muffled curses as some kind of invitation.
Will hoped it was Maddox.
It wasn’t Maddox.
It was Henry, the tattooed do-gooder after-school-special Christian-rock version of a werewolf.
“Oh, fuck off,” Will cursed.
Henry folded his massive guns over his chest. “You’ve got to stop cursing me out every time I see you, or I will beat your ass.”
“Yeah? What’s new. If beating me did anything, Maddox wouldn’t have you here.”
“True,” Henry acknowledged. “That, downstairs before. That was rude.”
“Yeah. It was,” Will agreed, meaning something completely different. “Apparently, I don’t get anything like the respect the rest of you freak the fuck out if you don't get. People show the fuck up out of nowhere. No explanations. Not even a fucking hello.”
There was a pause in which Will figured Henry was trying to work out how to call him a shit without calling him a shit again.
“You’re right,” Henry said.
That was a surprise.
“Am I?”
“Yeah. The boys are here to help out. Not to piss you off.”
“Really.”
It was hard to maintain dignity while crouching on the floor, clutching pastry, but that didn’t matter to Will because he never had any dignity anyway. That was regularly stripped from him by almost everybody he came into contact with. At this point, he counted himself fortunate if they didn’t hit him.
“Who are they, then?”
“Members of my pack. My betas…”
Will snort-laughed at the term.
“My seconds in command,” Henry corrected. “I’d like to introduce you to them.”
Will was guarded, but he did appreciate that Henry was at least trying to show him a little respect, even if it was way too fucking late.
“I don’t really feel like meeting anyone, thanks. I don’t know what’s going on. The house is full of bloody werewolves, and Lorien’s back…”
“If you meet them, we can start explaining what’s happening.”
That sounded reasonable. Will also wanted some milk to soothe his mouth burns. They were really getting in the way of enjoying his meal.
“Fine.”
Will came back downstairs with Henry, somewhat surprised that the alpha had managed to talk him down so easily. He’d certainly changed his tune from before, less of the hard-ass demanding respect. That had never worked with Will. Apparently, Henry was smart enough to change his approach to make things work.
“Men, this is Will,” Henry introduced him, speaking as if they hadn’t all met one another twice already in the last hour. Will didn’t say anything. He was still thinking about the toaster upstairs, and the pastries, and eating. If he snagged a plate while he was down here, that would make it a worthwhile trip.
“This is Dante.”
“Hey,” Will said. Dante was a massive dude. He had to be at least seven feet tall, more than six five for sure. He was also broad and muscular and Will knew none of that actually mattered because they were all wolves. Who cared how much of a massive monster you were as a person. The kind of wolf you were, that was what mattered. At least that’s what he figured.
“Nice to meet you, William.” Dante had a deep, melodious voice, and a bearing that put Will somehow at ease at a time when absolutely nothing put him at ease.