Page 9 of Moonlight's Mate
Orson nodded. “One thing those liars can’t lie about. Cold, hard iron will end them.” He spat again. “But nothing’s made of iron anymore. The steel-born fae can creep back in if no one’s watching.”
Crouching beside the imp, Beck looked at the big ruined eye. “What was this one watching?”
“Maybe nothing,” Orson said. “Maybe just a stray.” But he didn’t sound convinced.
Beck nodded, more at the concern not spoken. “I think we might need to do some hunting.”
“My boys will do a walk through town. No sense getting everyone worked up about nothing.”
Beck thought about the stories he remembered. “The fae have no quarrel with us.”
“Besides us being where they wish they could go.”
“They can’t have my town,” Beck said. He heard the wolf in his own voice, protective and possessive.
Speaking of protective and possessive…
He glanced at Orson. “Merrilee needs to know about this. Can you deal with this mess?”
The old griz nodded. “If I leave the iron in, it’ll just melt away. But I’ll bring the boys over for a whiff before we head out on patrol.” His eyes glinted. “If the fae are looking for a fight, they’ve come to the right place.”
***
After making a few investigative calls early the next morning, Beck aimed for the winding road to the lakeside village. The first golden light of day reminded him the last thing he wanted was a fight. He’d put fighting behind him when he took his honorable discharge. He wanted the peace to brew his beer and serve his pack. He wanted quiet nights to run free. He wanted…
But what he wanted and what an Alpha had to do were two different things and not as easily brought together as a wereling’s shifts.
That truth was as clear to him as the displeasure on Merrilee’s face when he cruised up to the A-frame cottage perched above the other houses closer to the lake. She stood on the porch with her legs braced in a wide stance. The overflowing flower boxes framing the windows seemed too soft for the Alpha he knew, even though the rich red blossoms matched her compressed lips. What other incongruities might he might find within?
Not that he’d ever be invited.
He’d known the Harley’s roar in her pristine community would get her hackles up. Which contradicted his earlier thought about not wanting to fight, but there was a good reason he’d been sent off to military school and then the army; he’d always been too good at fighting.
Curse the fae. So much for trying to change his ways.
He killed the engine, letting the stillness of the mountain morning return. For a pack of apex predators, Merrilee’s werelings were outliers. They focused on their creative pursuits, choosing brains over were-favored brawn. Honestly, they were the kids he’d have beat up in grade school before he got shipped off and got beaten on some himself. Now the peace appealed to him. He’d had only a couple hours of sleep after calling his contacts about the strange fae appearance, and the quiet was almost as much a balm as the powerful rumble of the bike.
Though not quite as much as looking at Merrilee. In her tight leggings and a long, V-neck sweater with a colorful fringed hem that danced under her butt, she made his fingers twitch with a need to play with all the disparate textures.
She didn’t say anything as he swung off the bike, just took a sip from the coffee cup in her hand. The twist of steam told him it was recently poured; likely a pot still simmered somewhere inside. Not that the simmering Alpha outside would let him have any, so he wasn’t even going to ask.
“Got another cup?” He cursed himself when the request popped out anyway.
Merrilee raised one brow. “Long, cold ride this early just to get coffee.”
And a long, cold day in hell before she gave him onewas implied.
When he stalked up the walkway, she put the cup down and squared her shoulders. Her bare toes, nails pearly pink from the chill, curled over the edge of the step.
Looked like she was ready for a fight too.
He focused on the flowers and didn’t continue up the porch steps even though the pounding of his pulse in his ears echoed as if he kept right on walking. “Quit challenging me,” he said through gritted teeth. “We have to talk, and I can’t do that with you staring holes in me.”
Though he didn’t look at her, he felt the moment her gaze shifted. Like a hot hand leaving his skin. He kinda missed it.
“What are you doing here, Beck?”
“Had a problem in town last night.”
