Page 69 of Revenge of the Blood Pack

“As fine a deal as I could hope for,” he says, totally devoid of irony.You’re either one sick puppy, or somebody seriously fucked up your paperwork.

Asha rises from the ground and pats Orson’s shoulder. “Welcome to the team.”

I glance between them and notice how one smile mirrors the other. I worry for a moment whether something’s happening here, but after the bonding moment my brother, Asha, and I shared last night, I trust she’s committed to us. At least, I hope she is. Sex like that can’t be meaningless. It was something closer to what occurs to bonded mates rather than a quick fling.

Orson, however, is another story. The unanswered question of his reliability gains new dimension when I catch the glint in his eye when he stares at Asha. She’s the least generous woman with her trust, yet here I find her sharing a friendly moment mere minutes after an introduction. I almost want to pull her aside and scold her, but that would only betray my jealousy. No, I’ll continue to play it cool, treat Orson to the same steely leadership I provide all subordinates.

Even if my wolf might not like it.

Although my form of leadership happens to be developing in real-time, since thisismy first rodeo as ringleader — to mix metaphors. Until this moment, for example, I had no idea how much I wouldn’t like a pretty boy calling mesirin front of my lover, as if I’m some old man.

Life is easier flying solo.

As if to further illustrate that fact, Michael and Braxton leave the mobile command center to join us. Instantly, I sense the unease in my brother, who crosses his arms and mean-mugs our newest team member. Anger rolls beneath his surface, and I start to wonder if my brother might be more of a problem when it comes to playing nice than I thought.

Still, better to start things off right. “Braxton, this is Orson, who’ll be joining our team.”

He takes a beat for inspection before offering his hand. They shake, underneath which Trouble angles his snout towards their hands. With a sniff, he seems to pick up on Braxton’s hostility, which sets him on edge. His head lowered, he drifts over to Braxton and places himself between my brother’s legs, eyeing Orson with new suspicion.

“Here I thought we were getting along, Trouble,” Orson says, smiling gently at the dog.

“He was probably just sussing you out,” Braxton posits.

Asha rolls her eyes, all too aware of the moment’s hyper-masculine subtext. I’d make excuses, but it is what it is. Men are naturally wary of each other, shifters even more so, because we know what we’re capable of, the violence and appetites that reside within us. Orson wears none of these openly, but I know his cheery facade masks inner tumult.

Orson hunkers down with his hands on his knees and says to the dog, “Your trust doesn’t come cheap. I respect that. I hope to earn it soon.”

Trouble licks his lips.

“Well,” says Michael, drawing out the word, “as much fun as this party is, I’ve got to get back on the road. Here, Orson.” Michael heaves a duffel into Orson’s arms, then stacks a reinforced, field-ready laptop on top of it. “Lady,” Michael says, nodding at Asha, “gentlemen, adieu.” He marches back to hisblacked-out SUV and peels out, leaving an unpleasant dust cloud in his wake.

As it clears, my twin asks, “Why the computer?”

Orson shrugs. “It’s my specialty.”

“You some kind of nerd?”

Braxton’s battlefield experience must’ve indoctrinated him in the ways of the jock. My own made me averse to it, but I only gave them four years compared to his eight. Spend enough time in a certain culture, it inevitably starts to diffuse through you because everyone is trained to think alike, to be alike. It gets to the point where you don't know who you are, especially when you leave. It's difficult to assimilate back to being a civvie, so I don’t blame him.

Orson laughs good-naturedly though. “I suppose so.” I can tell this isn’t the confrontational response my brother was looking for and only irritates him further. “I picked up a few things at school.”

“Sounds like false modesty,” Braxton says.

Christ. Before I can throw water on the fire of this nascent, lopsided feud, I get a call from Carl, my boss. As I excuse myself to answer it, I shoot Braxton a glare that I hope communicates my stern warning against starting any shit.

Halfway between my team and the command tent, I turn back to observe the three of them. Braxton is obviously spoiling for a fight Orson refuses to give. I scan Asha for subtle hints of interest, but she’s harder to read.The way her eyes alight on his shoulders, is she checking him out?

My wolf bristles again, and I try to take slow, deep breaths. Asha felt something with us. The same thing we felt for her. One pretty face isn’t going to sway her interest. Is it?

I hate that I don’t know. I hate that some place deep inside of me I’m not sure how she feels.

I pick up the call. “Carl.”

“Max,” Carl replies in my ear. “There’s a new development.”

FIVE

Asha

---