Page 13 of Black Moon

They were all leaning in toward the salt-and-pepper alpha. “That dipshit dove into the lake and I swear to god, his trunks went flying. And there your mama was”—he shoved Linden in the arm—“there your mama was, juststaringat him while his hands were cupped around his, well, you know. Swear to god, I think he lost them on purpose, just to catch her eye.”

Linden groaned, his eyes scrunching shut like the man was causing him visceral pain.

He hadn’t noticed me yet, so I reached over and touched his shoulder. That sweater he was wearing was plusher than I’d realized, and impulsively, I sank my fingers in and squeezed. His jacket was rumpled on the back of his chair.

He looked up at me, and something in his eyes shuttered at once. I wasn’t a part of this, a welcome guest to their reminiscences.

“I’m heading out,” I said, as if he’d really paused to care about that. “But I wanted to offer my condolences before I do. For your father. To, um—” I’d been so caught up staring into his blue-gray eyes that it took me a second to remember he wasn’t the only one there, or even the only Grove who deserved my sympathy. “To all of you.”

“Thank you,” Linden said stiffly, his voice so low it’d have been hard to hear if everyone in this place weren’t a werewolf. “Maybe you and I can take a minute?”

He got out of his seat, and I dropped my hand. Didn’t matter, because his came to rest between my shoulder blades.

He led me back over to the bar, his mug in hand. The air felt heavy back here, the set of his jaw reserved and defensive—but I couldn’t blame him for that when I’d shown up out of nowhere, the very day they’d put his father in the ground.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but can I ask who you are and what you’re doing here?” Linden looked me over, his lips pressed together thinly. Briefly, his gaze flicked past me, and if I wasn’t mistaken, he was looking toward Skip’s table and the wolves that were gathering around it.

“Colt Doherty,Washington Post,” I announced, sticking my hand out to him. No reason to hide it. Barring actual danger, it was unethical not to let a person know they were talking to a reporter, even off the record. “Skip invited me out to see how your pack’s run. That not okay with you?”

Linden licked his lips, and there I was, like a complete tool, imagining he tasted of nothing but sweetness and tart, fresh cider. Didn’t matter that he was annoyed when I could smell that fruity goodness hanging in the air.

“Given that our alpha just died, seems like a weird time to invite strangers into our pack is all.” His voice stayed carefully measured, like he didn’t want to give too much away to me—a stranger he didn’t know or trust, or, more likely, to Skip, who’d clearly had his own reasons for inviting me there.

Linden stared down into his mug and frowned. When he took a sip, he tilted it all the way back, like the thing was practically empty.

“Right. Can’t argue with you there, but I can say that I wasn’t aware anything happened to Alpha Grove until I got here. Your brother was there in the hardware store?”

“Rowan,” he provided, still frowning into his mug.

“Right. There with Cliff?”

“Yeah.”

“So, I’d been reaching out to Alpha Grove for a while. Never got a response. Then, all the sudden, thePostgot an invitation to come out here from Skip Chadwick. No reason for me to think anything was out of the ordinary.”

“And no reason to call ahead, double check with the pack.”

My lips twitched in an aborted smirk. “You’ve got me there. I didn’t want to risk being told no when I’d already gotten my yes. Since I’m here now, do you mind telling me how your father died? Seems like it took you all by surprise.”

I’d gotten the impression, through the stories I’d heard passed around the place, and through the chaos that had Skip vying for a position in the Groves, that it was unexpected, maybe even violent.

I doubted Skip could’ve mounted a coup and been accepted at The Cider House all night long, though.

“We’ve had some recent conflict with another pack,” Linden said, his attention already drifting back toward his table and his family.

“You don’t say. I don’t expect that has anything to do with your pack’s unusually high number of omegas?”

Linden’s gaze snapped back to me. His brows fell, his bright eyes narrowed.

That was it—I’d finally hit on something worth digging into. But one look at Linden’s face said I wouldn’t have any luck getting it out of him.

All at once, it was like a metal door sliding shut at Area 51—impenetrable and so well defended I didn’t stand a chance. This guy didn’t like that I was interested in the Grove’s omegas, even though as an omega myself, it wasn’t like I was going to sling one over my shoulder and carry them back to my alpha cave to have my wicked way with them.

Something specific was putting him on edge, and maybe everything wasn’t so utopian with the Grove pack omegas as I’d thought.

“Excuse me,” he said coldly. “I should really be with my family tonight.”

He left his mug on the counter for Shiloh or the alpha behind the bar to grab, and turned away from me.

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