Page 30 of Cats and Dogs

"If you think that's bad, wait until you hear Ari and Theo's story. Effing messed up."

Jas had quietly disappeared a little while ago; she came back with huge bottles of moonshine under her arms and those went around the table.

Hunter noted that while they were all up for a bit of fun, none of the pride members drank enough to truly affect a shifter's judgement. They were always on their guard.

“You’re staring like you’re trying to make us out,” said a nice, sweet voice behind him.

Hunter didn’t turn. He didn’t need to; he hadn’t heard her say much, but he had no issue recognizing that voice, regardless. Christine, back from putting Lola to bed.

Not looking at her was a good thing; she was distracting. Although her scent did enough to mess with his brain.

“Guilty as charged," he replied. "I’ve read whatever’s available online about your pack, but, actually seeing you guys, I’m not sure I know anything at all.”

He felt something strange and now he had to turn towards her to see what it could be. When he looked at the beautiful redhead, there was a certain sadness in her eyes.

“What did I say?” He frowned.

“Nothing. It’s just that Ian updates our online stuff, but it was all written by Tracey. She died a few days ago.”

Of course. They had been attacked from all fronts just two days ago; he knew, he’d been there, watching from the other side of the lake, waiting for his opening. The Vergas pack had decided to hang back until they had a clear shot inside the house.

Good thing, too, because if they had been closer, he would have died when their scary-ass allies had turned up.

“Shit. Sorry to hear that.”

Christine shrugged. “It’s okay.” Then she started to walk away towards the kitchen. Hunter’s eyes followed her.

Ian moved to sit next to Hunter and told him, his voice low, “We’re all keeping it together because of the kids, Christine more than anyone else. But Tracey was our youngest adult; when she joined us, she was just a teenager. Christine’s thing is taking care of people — kids, especially. She’s taking it harder than most. She just won’t show it.”

Hunter attempted no reply. What could he say? There was no appropriate response to someone else’s grief. Condolences were pretty words that he found shallow, worthless.

“She asked for days off on short notice; that’s not her thing, normally. I think she probably needs some time to process it.”

"And you're telling me because you think she's too vulnerable for me to mess with her right now," Hunter guessed.

Ian shrugged. "Maybe I am. And maybe I'm telling you now's not a bad time to provide her with a distraction."

He lifted a brow, surprised. Weren't any of the very dominant males going to be assholes about his sniffing around Christine?

Their acceptance meant one of two things: either they didn't care, or they truly believed she could take care of herself. What he knew of the pride made him cross out the first option. Which meant that there was more than met the eyes about the sexy submissive.

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