Eli had our mother’s dark hair and blue eyes. Gabe, Ben, and Christopher, had the blond-brown hair and amber eyes of my father’s side of the family, and Derek was a mix of the two, with dark hair and amber eyes. My parents had been a strange and beautiful pair—his sundrenched athleticism against her small, exotic beauty.

Like my parents, Tanya was Gabriel’s physical foil. Absolutely beautiful in a soft and natural way, with cheeks that always seemed to glow healthy pink and dark hair currently pulled into a topknot. She bounced Connor in her arms and winked at me.

“Hey, sis,” Ben said, slinging an arm around me. “I thought you were out with Jeffrey tonight.” Ben wasn’t a fan of the mate-parading tradition.

“Gabe wanted me to meet someone,” I said, sliding my eldest brother a glance. He ignored the jab, kept his gaze on the box that sat on the pedestal table in front of him.

“A potential?” Ben asked, glancing at Gabriel. “You didn’t mention that.”

“He’s not here for you,” Gabriel said, then looked at me. “You’re just in time for the unveiling.”

“What are we unveiling?”

“The old man’s brought the crown out of storage,” Eli said, stepping forward.

“Ah,” I said with a smile. “For Connor’s initiation.”

The initiation was another Pack tradition, an opportunity for the actual heir apparent to be formally inducted into the NAC. Tomorrow, Connor would get a crown. Tonight, I got a blind date.

The prince won that round.

Wordlessly, Gabriel opened the box. The coronet, delicate and golden, with arches across the top, gleamed like a star’s corona, nestled on a cushion of purple velvet.

Magic, heavy and ancient, spilled into the room.

Gabe lifted the crown, the etchings along the band catching the light and sprinkling it around the room. The history of the world was drawn there, the origin story of the men and women whose shadows unified the worlds of men and animals. The artist was long forgotten, but his or her craftsmanship lived on. As did the magic that had been spelled into it.

“I think Connor might be a little small for it,” Christopher said.

“Not if he’s got Gabe’s gigantic melon,” Ben said, reaching out and knuckling the top of Gabe’s head. Only Ben could have gotten away with the gesture without pulling back a nub. He was the happiest of the Keenes, the one who smiled the most. And now that Adam was gone, he was the baby.

“Every melon in my family is fine,” Gabe said, handing the coronet to me and running a hand through his hair to settle it again.

The crown was heavier than I’d expected, and the metal was warmer. It had adorned generations of Pack leaders, Keenes and otherwise, and as the story went, had absorbed their magic along the way. Maybe that explained the weight.

“You think you can get the giraffe away from him long enough to get that thing on his head?” Christopher wondered.

The giraffe had become Connor’s favorite toy. He bathed with it, slept with it, played with it. And when it was taken away for cleaning or dinnertime, the young prince made his displeasure known to all.

Gabriel looked at him with a considering glance. Connor smiled back, kicking his feet merrily against his mother and holding his giraffe with drool-covered, pudgy baby fingers.

“Doubtful,” Gabriel said. “But it cost a fortune to get a guarded courier to bring it from Memphis. He’ll wear it with or without the giraffe.”

When Gabe extended a hand, I offered the coronet back to him, happy to have it out of my hands. We had no scepter, no ermine cape, no crown jewels. But we had the coronet. And as long as the Keene family held the crown, we held the Pack.

It wasn’t just a symbol of the NAC; it was the heart of the Apex’s power. It allowed the Apex to reach the individual members of the Pack and call them together. It was a profound power—the ability to compel shifters to the side of their alpha—and one that had to be judiciously used. There weren’t even many who knew what it could do; there wasn’t much to be gained by advertising its power.

Many Pack members, including our extended family, had stayed in Memphis. We’d left the crown and its weighty power in their trusted care. Now that it was here, the burden was ours to protect it.

“You’re putting it in the safe?” Christopher asked.

We’d stored emergency supplies inside an ancient steel safe we’d hauled out of a building in Memphis that was being demolished.

“Seems the best place for it,” Gabe said, returning it to its cushion and closing the box again. “Although there are spiders downstairs. I do not like spiders.”

Gabe had faced pissed-off shifters, irritated vampires, and worse. But spiders were his mortal enemies. To be fair, the basement’s spiders were large and in charge.

“We know,” Ben said, clapping him on the back. “We all have our burdens to bear.”

“Enough,” Gabriel said. “We have company.”

We all looked to the doorway, where a man nearly blocked it completely.

He was built like a linebacker. Shoulders wide as mountains, every muscle defined beneath a leather jacket, snug cotton shirt, and jeans. He had dark, wavy hair and gray eyes beneath a hooded brow; his mouth was lush. He had the kind of good looks people would describe as “rugged,” and he certainly looked like he could handle himself.

He tugged leather gloves from his hands and stuffed them into the pockets of his jacket.

“Patrick York,” Gabe said.

Gabriel hadn’t told me whom I’d be meeting today, and I hadn’t bothered to ask. But I absolutely hadn’t expected this.

There were three other Packs in the U.S.: Consolidated Atlantic, Western, and Great Northwestern. Within those packs were a few big, old families, including ours and the Yorks, led by patriarch Richard, Patrick’s father. But while we controlled a Pack, the Yorks were members, and not very active ones. The family lived in Wisconsin, which put them in the territory of the NAC Pack, but they hadn’t attended a Pack convocation in years.

If Patrick York was here to meet me, that was changing. And the pressure was on.

“Patrick, meet the family,” Gabriel said. He pointed us out in turn. “Christopher, Ben, Eli, Derek, Tanya, Connor. And Fallon.”

I offered a wave, my stomach clenching with nerves.

Patrick smiled at me, his gray eyes intense. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You, too.”

“How was your drive?” Ben asked.

Tags: Chloe Neill Chicagoland Vampires Vampires
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