Page 25 of Black Moon

With his body blocking off my escape, his acute willingness to invade my personal space, it took real effort not to scowl at him.

“Well, yeah. I’ve been busy working on my piece. I was talking to Juniper Grove over at the orchard. She doesn’t seem to like you much.”

Skip straightened, tucking his chin and scrunching up his nose, clearly offended. “She’s just bent out of shape because things are changing ’round here. Nobody in this pack wants to keep doing things the way they’ve always been done—nobody except the Groves.”

I frowned at him. Somehow, Linden didn’t strike me as a hyper-conservative traditionalist.

“Really? I mean, rare’s the wolf that bothers going to medical school. You don’t think Linden Grove’s forward thinking enough to run this pack?”

Skip scoffed. “Linden’s barely an alpha. Not the kind who’d lead us through trouble. That was his big brother—Aspen Junior. He’s as alpha as they come. Big, burly, violent. He ran off to join the military, so now somebody’s got to step up and see this pack’s provided for. Taken care of.”

“And that person’s you?” I asked innocently, tipping my head to the side. “Those are big dreams for a wolf under thirty.”

“With the right mate, I think I could manage.” His voice was like velvet, and again, he was leaning toward me, his nose flared as he took a deep breath.

It was a wonder he didn’t try and mark me then.

“I’m awfully thirsty, Skip.”

“I’ll get you a drink.” Already, he was moving to get up, but I slipped out right after him.

“No, no. It’s no problem. If I don’t use my per diem, they won’t give me as much next time.”

I left him beside his table of admirers and approached the bar. Shiloh and the other bartender were working again, and I wondered if one or both of them lived in a cubby under the counter.

“Can I get a cider?” I figured it wouldn’t hurt to blend in with the local crowd, and while I usually preferred drinks of a harder nature, I wasn’t looking to take the edge off tonight.

“Sure thing,” Shiloh said.

The other bartender, the alpha woman with sharp hazel eyes, wandered closer. “Name’s Talin.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Colt Doherty.”

“Sure. The reporter. You need me to deal with Chadwick for you? We don’t cotton to alphas getting too forward with omegas who haven’t invited them to.”

I shook my head. “I can take care of him, thanks.”

She looked me over a second, then nodded. “Well, you just let me know if you need a hand, pretty boy.”

“Will do.”

But when Shiloh handed me my drink, there was something stiff in her neck, and she was avoiding meeting my eyes. Something was up, and I wasn’t sure it was anything an alpha could really understand.

“Do omegas around here have much trouble with alphas?” I asked.

Shiloh swallowed. She shook her head, brown curls falling around her shoulders.

With a supportive hand on the omega’s back, Talin stepped closer. “Not in this pack, no. Alpha Grove always kept a good hand on things. Alphas around here know to show respect to betas and omegas, or they’re not gonna get far. Hell, I’d sooner cross Linden himself than step out of line with Claud. That is, um, Claudia Wilson.”

I laughed. “Fair point. If anyone’s going to pull out their claws, it’d be her.”

“Right. Well, glad to hear things are good here. I mean, I got that impression, but you can never be too careful when visiting a new pack.”

“You can’t,” Shiloh agreed, a wistful kind of sadness in her voice.

Talin looked like she just couldn’t stand it, that it caused her physical pain to see Shiloh upset. That was a thing with alphas—an omega in trouble meant they were supposed to act, to do something to fix it. It was like an evolutionary warning siren, and while we didn’t need it quite the same way we had centuries ago, it meant alphas were damn good at figuring out what their omega mates needed.

Figuring they could help each other more than my lingering curiosity, I wandered back to my table with my drink in hand, still feeling like I was missing something awfully big.

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