Gabe and Jeff had been friends for some time. I’d met him a few months ago. Gabe trusted and respected Jeff, who worked with Chuck Merit, a former cop who’d been hired by a former mayor to help supernaturals in Chicago. Chuck Merit’s agency was no longer official, but Jeff and his sorcerer colleague, Catcher Bell, still volunteered to solve supernatural dilemmas.
Gabe hadn’t stopped our friendship or complained about the time we spent together, believing we’d drift apart eventually. And as each season passed, the number of potentials Gabe trotted in front of me increased. Jeff was good people. But there were rules.
“The price of Jeff Christopher is too high,” Gabriel was fond of saying. “You cannot have him and the Pack both.”
Jeff knew about the tradition; every shape-shifter did. I think he’d hoped Gabriel would change his mind, or the Pack would. That hadn’t happened. But cold, hard facts hadn’t done anything to diminish the fiery spark between us.
“Don’t go,” he said, slipping from his chair across the table to the one beside mine. His unique scent moved with him—the deep and heady aromas of jungle and his warm and velvety cologne. So did his magic. It was usually bright and almost cheerful, shining like ripples of sunlight across water. But the mood had darkened, and so had his magic, the power that electrified the air like the moment before a storm.
He touched my hand again, sending a shock of magic up my spine. I fought hard against the promise of it. Our relationship hadn’t been exactly platonic, but there were lines we hadn’t crossed.
“I’m a Keene,” I reminded him . . . and myself. “It’s tradition. It’s part of the Pack, part of who we are.”
“It’s a lame tradition. And I’ll tell that to Gabe’s face.” His expression was fierce, but I knew better. Jeff Christopher was as loyal as they came.
“It’s the right thing to do,” I said, but even I could hear the quiet whisper of doubt in my voice.
He reached up to brush a lock of my wavy hair behind my ear. “You’re not just a Keene. You’re allowed to be Fallon, too.”
Magic blossomed between us, an invisible arc that enveloped us both, sending goose bumps along my arms.
I swallowed down a bolt of lust. I pushed down the obvious interest from the wolf that prowled inside me, felt her keen disappointment when I stood up and pushed back my chair, which squealed in protest against the sticky and stained linoleum floor. The wolf didn’t care about Jeff Christopher’s form. That he was magic—ferocious and male—was enough for her.
There was no denying Jeff Christopher and I had good magic. But magic didn’t win every battle. Sometimes family had to win, because it was the only victory a girl could afford.
“They’re counting on me,” I said, avoiding his eyes, afraid he’d see my doubts, even though I’d pushed them as far down into my gut as possible. “And you know the other option.”
Abdication. I could have Jeff Christopher if I gave up my claim to the Pack, my spot in the line of succession. But I’d also be giving up my family, rejecting the training and education I’d received as a potential Apex.
I cared about Jeff, but he wasn’t for me. We weren’t for each other. It might have been one of the great tragedies of my universe, but that didn’t make it any less true.
“One of these days I’m going to start taking your rejections personally.” Jeff’s voice was confident, but there was pain in his eyes. Still, he put up a good front. “Today’s not that day. I’ll see you, Fallon.”
His voice drew my gaze back, and the promise in his eyes was unmistakable.
“I’ll see you,” he said again, his guarantee.
2
The Pack was based in Memphis, but our family had decamped to Chicago earlier in the year. We’d made a promise to help Chicago’s vampires manage the supernatural crises that emerged once they’d announced their existence to the world.
We’d looked for place that reminded us of home, and found a farmhouse long past its prime but with plenty of room to roam and bedrooms for the lot of us. The house wasn’t in the best shape—the once-vibrant cornflower blue paint had faded to a watery blue-gray—but even tired around the edges she was beautiful. An enormous round porch wrapped nearly half the front of the house—a must-have for a family with Southern roots—and a turret with a conical roof jutted proudly from one side. The rest of the facade was a jangle of windows, shutters, and dormers.
The interior of the house still carried the scents of the generations that had come and gone. Each generation, each year, layering one smell over another like geological strata. Bundles of herbs hung to dry in the kitchen. Soft, old-fashioned perfume. Dirt and grass from long days of work.
I think that’s ultimately why Gabe had picked the place—because memories still lingered in the house, and they took the places of the Pack members we’d left behind in Memphis.
I walked inside, hung my black peacoat on the baroque rack by the front door, and glanced into the antique mirror that hung there for a final check.
I had plenty of earrings and ink, and my taste in clothes ran toward black and gray, muted colors, and interesting layers. My dark blond hair waved with curl I’d gotten from my mother. My brandy-colored eyes were lined with kohl, and my cowl-necked sweater was dark, with long pointed sleeves, and fell nearly to the hem of my black pleated skirt.
As I prepared to meet another potential mate, a wolf in human clothing, I gave myself an honest appraisal. My eyes were sharp and clear, my mouth just wide enough to seem cheeky. I had good teeth, a great laugh, and a public school education that had done me plenty well. That didn’t mean the potential would feel the same way. And even if I wasn’t thrilled about the prospect of meeting him, no one liked rejection.
I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, blew out a breath, and walked into the living room.
The entire family was in attendance amongst the faded velvet furniture: my brothers—Gabriel to Ben—plus Tanya, Gabe’s wife, and Connor, his son and the prince in waiting. But as I ticked them off my mental checklist, I realized there wasn’t a suitor in sight. Maybe he changed his mind, I thought with a thrill, and I could meet Jeff for pancakes, or we could watch a movie at his place.
The family huddled around Gabriel, tall and tawny-haired, with amber eyes that occasionally swirled with magic and broad shoulders. He was a presence, always. Occasionally the biggest man in the room, always the most imposing.