Page 16 of Wrestling With Werewolves

We share a quick laugh when I nod, and then I jerk my head toward the door. “I’m gonna go make rounds, but get settled and rest. Comm Leo. Do whatever you want.”

The smile she turns on me has Big Daddy preening behind my bones.

“Thank you, Richard,” she murmurs.

Welcome, Princess, Big Daddy growls in my mind at the same time I voice the sentiment aloud.

Big Daddy is mercifully silent for the remainder of the afternoon as I make the usual rounds of Shifter Hollow with Connall by my side. Rounds are a chance for us to be available, to connect, to check in. We do it at least twice daily.

We pass guardian wolves on every other corner, stationed there to keep an eye on the Hollow during Lola’s time here. I’m not worried about her safety in Ever, but I want to make sure she feels safe, given everything Marco shared.

“She’s not what I expected,” Connall says quietly as we round a bend in the street, treehouses soaring tall above us. Solidified surfaces are dappled green and brown to match the trees, glass walls interspersed between them lend the architecture a modern feel.

I keep an eye out for anything amiss. “How so?”

Connall shrugs. “Somehow, I was expecting a kid.”

I grunt in agreement. I don’t know why I had expected time to stop, but the person who stepped off that train earlier was not what I thought she’d be.

Connall’s quiet for the next few minutes, until his comm watch pings. He stops in place and nudges me with his elbow. “I’ve got a session with Leighton’s parents in ten minutes, so I’m going to head back. Need anything from me before I go?”

I shake my head, worry for our dead packmate’s family filling my chest until it’s hard to breathe. I’ve never lost anyone on my watch. Not the entire time I’ve been Pack Alpha. Hundreds and hundreds of haven-years.

“How are they?” I manage. “From your perspective, I mean.”

Connall sighs. “As your Second, I’m worried they won’t stay in Ever, which would be a loss for our pack since they’re so beloved. As your pack therapist, I can tell you they’re struggling with the shock of losing Leighton so suddenly, and the way he died.”

He turns luminescent green eyes on me. “They probably seem like they’re doing alright from the outside, but they’re in fight-or-flight mode. They’re focused on all the things that happen after a death, but as the pack returns to normal, it’ll hit them like a ton of bricks, and they’ll be faced even more directly with his loss. They’ll really need you then.”

I shove down intense heartache for my packmates. “What’s the best way to help?”

Connall claps me on the shoulder. “Just be there. Keep asking how they’re doing. Keep showing up. Sometimes, the worst part about loss is when everybody around you starts to move on, and you’re still stuck with the grief. You don’t understand how others can behave normally when you’re mired in sadness. Keep showing up the way you have been. They might not always accept your help, but the fact that you asked is enough.”

I nod. I check on them daily, but I understand what Connall means about those around you moving on. My parents died when I was a pup, and I’ll never forget the only person who never stopped checking in with me after his pack took me in and adopted me as one of their own.

Marco.

Connall removes his hand from my shoulder, giving me a gentle, understanding smile. “If you don’t need anything else, I’ll head out, but I’ll see you at the welcome dinner.”

Big Daddy remains noticeably silent as I say goodbye to my Second and turn for the forest again.

Hours later, I push a beer across the worn wooden bar toward a chestnut-coated centaur. She smiles shyly at me, grabs the beer and turns into the crowd. Bad Axe is always slammed around dinnertime, but tonight feels especially chaotic, like centaurs and shifters and pegasi are packed in all the way to the rustic plank walls.

We’ve got a little welcome dinner starting for Lola, but there seem to be a whole lot more monsters in the bar than I actually had Connall notify. I suppose news of the princess’s arrival traveled fast.

Big Daddy is quiet in my mind. He has been since Lola arrived. It’s odd. I make a mental note to visit Arkan’s father, Vikand, to see if he has any insight into my wolf’s increasingly erratic behavior.

A hush rolls over the bar, the air electric with anticipation.

She’s here.

Time slows as I turn to see Lola at the hostess stand. She’s speaking to the hostess, her guitar slung at her back.

Does she take it everywhere? That brings visions of her giving impromptu concerts to my head. I’ve never seen her play, but I’d like to.

The hostess blushes and dips her head, but Lola’s gracious and places her hand on the woman’s elbow, saying something that has the other female beaming. They turn toward the room, and Lola’s eyes flick up, catching mine across the space.

Her hair’s pulled into a thick black bun, but all that hair out of the way only serves to show off the slim, elegant column of her neck. Crimson stud earrings wink from both delicate ears. Random black freckles dot her bronze skin. She’s just as casually dressed as earlier—jeans filled out by athletic, long legs; a simple white tee, pert, round breasts visible. It’s not an outfit meant to be flashy or sensual. It’s comfortable, everyday wear.

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