Page 8 of Protector

I didn’t know how much Fallon knew about supes then. Figuring that a little reconnaissance was a good way to get over my bruised heart—and waiting for the Beta to either track me down himself or sell me out to his Alpha—I waited and I watched and I spent most of my time in my fur.

Of course, on one of the only times I was sneaking around in my skin, I caught scent of a witch nearby, got curious, and found myself in the position of becoming his ‘captive’. It worked out in the end, and I could’ve escaped the coven house anytime I wanted to, but it’s fair to say that I haven’t had the chance to really explore the rest of Winter Creek.

The top of my spine is itchy. You know that spot right between your shoulder blades where your back meets the stump of your neck? I have this weird quirk; my gift from the Luna, I guess. I can sense danger the same way Lorelei can sense mate bonds.

There’s only one catch. It’s a niggling feeling, not a premonition, and there’s no way of knowing who’s in danger until it’s too late—but it’s not me. My danger radar pings for anyone else, but if it’s my ass in the sling? I never can tell in advance.

See: accidentally getting nabbed by Remy Gauthier and brought to the coven house as a bargaining chip once he believed my story that I was Fallon’s friend coming to visit. The pictures on my useless phone—because, duh, I forgot that one big perk to a supe sanctuary was the lack of wi-fi and cell service—proved I knew Fallon, and he decided to extend an offer of hospitality on the coven’s behalf.

Translation: magic prick zapped me, and when I woke up again, I was bound and gagged for a photo op.

Best thing about being a Lipton? Unlike the Luna-touched wolves with silver eyes, mine are a nice, ordinary brown. Not gold like most wolves, either, and as a supe with a dud sniffer, he had no idea I was a shifter until the moment I went wolf and ripped out his throat.

Sucker.

Remy is dead. So is Marie Bordeaux. With the witches outnumbering us twenty-five to one, it doesn’t take my itchy back to know this could go bad real quick.

Usually, I’d have a quick chat with the Luna and see if she had any advice for her favorite guardian. I can’t. There are times when our goddess goes silent, and not even my close tie to her gets me any special privilege. I used to relish those times when I was sure I was alone in my head, but lately… she whispered to Lorelei that Cal was her mate. She did the same to me when I laid eyes on Tristan.

And then Fallon broke the stasis spell on Winter Creek and the Luna, it seems, has taken a vacation of her own.

Heading down the two flights of stairs that lead to the first floor—and the kitchen—I wonder: this is my vacation, too. Why not act like it?

I sense that the kitchen isn’t empty long before I push open the swinging door the separates the hall from the kitchen area where the pack usually congregates around a large wooden table. The Alpha’s aura is unmistakable, even if he’s not my Alpha, and I recognize Fallon’s inherently sweet scent the second it filters in through my nostrils.

Throw in the unmistakable aromas of freshly fried bacon, eggs, and toast that’s probably a shade darker than I like since I can scent the lingering burn in the air, and they must be enjoying breakfast.

I’m not annoyed that they’re eating without me. Why would I be? Food has a very specific meaning when it comes to shifters. To provide it specifically from one shifter to another, it’s basically saying that I’m going to feed you, take care of you, and love you. Alphas provide for their pack as a whole. Parents feed their pups. And prospective mates show their affection with a meal.

In the pack house, the shifters who live here take turns making a communal meal. Fallon tried to get me to join them, but my wolf is proud. I’ll eat what I provide, and if that means scrounging up something from the kitchen when I’m hungry, that’s what I’ll do.

Of course, if I walk into a meal that’s half-eaten, I’m not above scavenging the leftovers. My wolf doesn’t see that as letting someone else take care of us. That’s why, after I wave a greeting toward Fallon and nod at her mate, I grab a pile from the cabinet and start loading it up for my own breakfast.

It’s all set up buffet style. I ladle two sunny-side-up eggs onto my plate, add six pieces of bacon, three pieces of toast, and a few orange segments on top before yanking on the drawer and grabbing a fork and a knife.

Bumping it closed with my hip, I take one of the empty seats.

Lucas Guidry sits at the head of the table. Sometimes Fallon sits opposite him, sometimes she sits by his side. Today she’s on his right, and I’m facing my friend with my back to the door.

It’s nice to not have to be the alert shifter on duty. If there’s one bonus to having an Alpha nearby, it’s letting the responsibility to protect fall on his broad shoulders for a change.

Me? I dig into my breakfast.

Fallon doesn’t bat an eye at the amount of food I piled up. She’s used to it. Before she learned I was a shifter, she believed me and Lorelei when we explained away our slender figures and huge appetites as a high metabolism. It’s not a lie. Shifters need a ton of calories to shift and to heal, and we burn through them quickly. I can survive longer than humans without food if I have to, but since I don’t have to, why not chow down?

Lucas expects it of a wolf. That I don’t immediately join the conversation I interrupted when I walked in is normal for him, too. Shifters eat first, talk later, and it’s not like I really have anything to say right now anyway.

The Alpha’s plate is empty. Fallon is nursing a scrambled egg or two between eating her toast. Her long blonde hair is thrown over one shoulder, showing off both the impressive opal hanging over her blank tank and the impressive mating mark peeking out from beneath the strap.

That’s what happens when the mate marking you is a cursed feral who bites you when he’s partially shifted, but Fallon doesn’t seem to mind. She likes to show it off, and the way I’ve caught Lucas absently brushing his mark on her with his thumb, he likes everyone seeing how… enthusiastically he claimed his mate.

Fallon’s happy with him. The Alpha sacrificed everything to have a second chance with his fated mate, and I’m glad the two found their way to each other. I spent nine years protecting Fallon. It might have started out as an assignment from the Luna, but even if we butted heads all the time, she’s the only close friend I have who isn’t my identical twin.

Lucas is a dominant alpha wolf shifter with a perpetual glower, hair as black as his fur when he’s his wolf, the golden eyes that mark him as a supe, and a body twice as big as mine. I don’t give a shit. If he ever broke Fallon’s heart, I’d drop him, and I made sure he knew that the first chance I got after I moved into the pack house.

All he did was give me this searching look, then a small smile before letting me know that I was welcome to stay as long as I wanted. Fallon already did, but I guess Lucas thought it would mean something if he allowed it, too.

Not really, but if it makes him feel a little better, I can pretend.

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