Gwyllgi protocols stumped me on the regular. I wasn’t wading into warg politics uninvited.
“Did your friend name the club?”
“Greenleaf.” A shudder twitched her shoulders. “That themed bar on Crescent Avenue Northeast.”
Clubs weren’t my scene, but I was familiar with most by name if not location from my homework.
“Last week, Deric got an invite to an exclusive party. Heavy paper, calligraphy, the works. That’s not uncommon, everyone knows he loves to party, but this must have been a special case. He’s been pumped for days.” Her voice softened. “I didn’t recognize the sender’s name or the address.”
“Do you know if he kept the invitation?”
Gayle worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “He doesn’t usually, but if he did, it would be in his tent.”
“Check for me when you get home.” I tapped the card she had yet to put away. “Call me if you find it.”
Her slow, tight nod conveyed her struggle with the request she invade her alpha’s private quarters, even for his own good.
“What are you going to do?” Gayle rubbed a pink splotch I hadn’t noticed on her forearm. “I tried to get him out of the fountain when I arrived, and he bit me.”
Having met Mendelsohn a time or two, that pulled me up short. “He’s aggressive?”
All I had witnessed from him so far was a very tra-la-la attitude, but I hadn’t cornered him either.
“Very.” She kept rubbing, but the mark didn’t fade. “It’s not like him.”
Mendelsohn had challenged and killed his father to take over the pack, and he had done the enforcer gig for his old man before that. Rumor had it he executed the coup for the right to knock up every fertile female in the pack. The end result was he tended to choose mating over brawling.
Lashing out at a female, let alone a member of his pack, was out of character for him.
“We need to contain the situation.” I woke my phone. “Do you mind if I call for backup?”
Panic brightened her eyes, and her body trembled with the need to shift and defend her packmates.
The spark of magic she exuded barely rated a glance from Ambrose, but the promise of violence set him quivering.
“No…” she gritted out from behind elongating teeth, “…wargs.”
“I won’t allow any non-Mendelsohn wargs near Deric until he’s detoxed,” I promised. “Your alpha is safe.”
Sweat beaded and rolled down her brow, salting her too-bright eyes. The fine bones in her face shifted and popped. Skin stretched, elastic. Her jaw yawned wide in the beginnings of a horror-movie-style transformation before she regained control of her protective instincts.
“Yeth,” she rasped through a misshapen maw. “Do it.”
With a tight nod, I walked off to make my call and get me the heck out of Dodge.
“I’m sorry in advance,” I murmured to the universe, then dialed.
Ford hopped down from his pickup with a pasted-on smile that flaked off once he spotted Mendelsohn.
The courtship with Midas had torpedoed my friendship with Ford, and I absolutely hated it.
Hurt darkened his eyes whenever he looked at me these days, and I wished I could blame it on the coven.
But I had helped put it there.
So had Midas.
“This is a warg matter.” Hip against the fender, he tucked his hands under his arms. “I can’t intervene.”
“Wrong.” Bishop exited shadows too thin to conceal his approach, and Ambrose stalked him on his way over with glee. “The wargs are in our city, causing a disturbance guaranteed to draw human attention. That makes it an OPA matter.”
“You’re slipping.” I cocked my hip. “Remy tipped me off like an hour ago.”
Bishop ignored me, and the hit to his pride, in favor of staring down Ford.
“I can’t intervene,” Ford repeated without heat. “I’m sorry.”
“You help me and the OPA all the time.” I threw my hands up in frustration. “How is this any different?”
“I’m different,” he said softly, a world of pain spinning through his voice.
The decent thing to do would be to cut him loose now and let him come to me when he was ready.
“Mendelsohn took his harem to a party at Greenleaf,” I told him, “and this is the result.”
So long, decency.
“Some of these females—” I kept hammering at him, “—are pregnant.”
Ford punched the side of his truck hard enough to leave a dent. “I can’t intervene.”
Unflappable Ford losing his temper dried the spit in my mouth, but that wasn’t half as shocking as him raising a hand to his truck. He loved that thing. It was his baby, his pride and joy,