Warrior Fae Princess (Warrior Fae 2)

“Where’s the Rogue Natural, by the way?” he asked, giving Steve some suspicious side-eye. “He was supposed to be here.”

“He’ll meet us on the other side.”

“That right?” Dale continued his sideways stare. “I also heard you wasn’t a pack man.”

Steve’s smile grew at the soft threat. “Au contraire—that’s French, by the way—I love Pac-Man. I spent a great deal of time playing it as a kid. Oops, here we are now.”

Two vans, white and beige, pulled up alongside the crumbling curb, stopping near a pile of trash in front of a sign that said “no dumping.” The doors of the vans slid open, ejecting four guys and three gals. Devon, the black-haired lady-killer, glanced Steve’s way as Charity stepped up next to him. Her delicate features belied her obvious power. She didn’t touch Devon, but Steve knew a lot about body language, and he noticed the way the young alpha leaned into her just a bit, sharing personal space with her. He dropped his head to her, whispering something.

“That’s them, huh?” Dale asked before spitting.

“Nailed it,” Steve told him.

“He’s younger than I remember,” Cole boomed.

Steve turned back to glance at the grim-faced snow-giant. “You embarrass yourself a lot, I take it. No wonder Reagan picked on you.”

Cole’s face crumpled into anger and his hands curled into fists. He’d been the only one brave enough to rise to Reagan’s taunting one night in New Orleans. She’d had her hands full with him. He would’ve ripped her head off if she hadn’t set his fur on fire.

“Oops. Sore subject?” Steve grinned.

Devon stalked toward them, power and authority brimming from his athletic frame. In his lesser twenties, he was still filling out, gaining a man’s muscle and honing his strength. That didn’t diminish the dominance and power that wafted from him like it was his birthright.

He stopped in front of the new pack members, his confidence not the only thing carrying his mantle. Steve’s eyes widened as a thick, suffocating wave of magic rolled over him. It was the feeling he got whenever Roger stepped into a room, though not as potent. Not yet, anyway. In just a few months, Devon’s power had obviously grown. It was heads and tails more intense than Steve had remembered. That was some fast maturing for this young buck.

“Steve.” Devon stuck out his hand.

“Alpha.” The handshake was firm and personal. Good politics.

“Emery?”

“Has no interest in seeing the sights of Chicago. He’ll meet us on the other side.”

Devon nodded as the rest of his pack drifted in behind him, Charity in the lead.

That was interesting. Had Charity naturally assumed the position of beta, or had Devon assigned it to her? Either way, the rest of the pack had acknowledged her status.

Devon’s gaze touched on each new person before settling on Dale. Good instincts. Dale was absolutely the one to worry about. Steve had heard rumors regarding Dale’s penchant for taking over packs he’d been sent to help, but it would have been obvious regardless. His body language screamed challenge, from his tense posture to his slight forward lean. He had no respect for this up-and-comer.

“I’m Cole,” the yeti said, and Charity’s brow wrinkled. She was probably wondering why he was shouting at everyone. “I took part in the battle on your property.”

“Yes, of course,” Devon said without skipping a beat, though Steve was certain Roger had kept that detail from him. Devon stepped forward to offer his hand.

Dale spat, the splash landing only a foot from Devon’s shoe.

“Gross,” Charity said, wrinkling her nose. Apparently no one had told her to look badass and say very little when meeting new shifters. How delightful.

“Barbara.” Barbara nodded, not one for touching in any capacity. More’s the pity. Devon, picking up on her vibe, nodded in return.

He turned to the side and pointed at a brown-haired guy with a vague sort of face who wouldn’t stand out in a lineup. “That’s my beta, Dillon.”

Steve barely contained his surprise. The pack had a gap in communication where the beta was concerned, that was clear. Titles didn’t match how they acted.

“That’s Macy, beside him.” Devon indicated a short, thin lady with brown hair and a hard expression. She didn’t look like much, but Steve bet she was trouble in a pinch. A stunning blonde was next. “Yasmine, and beside her, Rod.”

Steve remembered Rod, the linebacker. He’d be a real bruiser someday soon.

“And Andy,” Devon finished, motioning at a surfer-looking guy Steve didn’t recall. He hadn’t gotten friendly with the locals after the skirmish at Devon’s house.

Each new pack member nodded in turn, except for Barbara, who stared without blinking.

“We have reason to suspect Charity’s dad is in the house,” Devon said. “He wasn’t too welcoming when Roger’s people stopped by a few months ago. Prepare for an altercation upon entering.”

“Yeah, but…we have her.” Cole motioned at a dour-faced Charity.