pelt to wipe my fucking boots!”
“You stole our buck!” I say, although I’m now suspecting that Fen made this up.
“I did not steal your buck!” Gage says. Through my left eye, I see his nostrils flare like he is thinking of punching me again.
Huffing out a breath, he about faces and storms from the hall.
I growl, ready to spring my wolf and go at him.
“Don’t,” Fen puts a hand on my shoulder. “You stand no chance as a man, and I don’t much like your chances as a wolf, either.”
“Thanks,” I say dryly.
Fen winces. “Maybe shift to heal your eye, though. It doesn’t look so good.”
Before I can shift, Glen enters the hall.
“What was that about?” Glen asks, gesturing toward my eye. “What did you do to piss off Gage?”
“Brandon stole his pants while he was in the river,” Fen says.
Great! Now I am blamed! It was not even my idea.
“What are you, a five-year-old whelp?” Glen says, frowning and shaking his head.
“It was Fen’s idea!” I say.
“Well, don’t listen to ought he tells you,” Glen says. “The average goat has more brains than Fen and twice the common sense.”
Fen growls. I huff out a laugh despite the pain radiating from my busted eye.
“Don’t piss Gage off,” Glen continues. “He is a big bastard, and likely I couldn’t stop him if he decided to strangle your whelp ass.”
Glen about faces but stops at the open hall doors. Looking over his shoulder, he waves his hand in my general direction. “And for fuck’s sake, shift afore you lose an eye.”
Present day…
Gage
The great hall is awash with merriment as I push my way inside. A drunk Alpha waves a full tankard in my face. I shove the asshole aside, sending him tumbling to the floor.
His beer sloshes all over him, and he tries to rise with a roar.
Planting my boot against his throat, I pin him to the ground.
His glazed eyes finally see me, and he raises both hands.
Lifting my boot, I shove my way toward the blazing fire. My father, the clan king, is seated on his throne. Pale chest lost under the swirling tattoos that evidence his battle kills. There is more grey than red in his hair and beard now, but he still has the body of a warrior in his prime. My brother, Danon, sits to his right, slumped in the chair where a mate should sit.
Our late mother would turn in her grave to see what has become of our clan.
“Come and sup with us!” My father cries, making himself heard over the din.
I have been negotiating with the Baxter clan today, and I come home to this madness. “Is it true?” I demand. The air is ripe with weed and beer. I have no problem with either in the right circumstance.
“Aye,” my father says, nodding. “Snatched her right off Halket lands. Old Karry is weak. Letting his lasses wander unattended. They deserve to be snatched.”
My nostrils flare. I had hoped it was a tall tale greeting me, but now I see it is the truth.
“Take her back,” I say. “Take her back, or there will be a war.”
“Let them come,” Danon sneers. Two years older than me, he has been the favored son his whole life in ways that go beyond being firstborn. He chuckles as he raises his beer to his lips, draining it before calling a serving lass for more.
My brother is the image of my father with red hair and temper to match, while I’m the image of my late grandfather on my mother’s side. With dark hair and eyes, I’m the tallest man in our clan. I have a temper too, but I rarely let it out.
Things and people tend to get fucked up when I let my darkness loose.
Swiping a hand down my face, I plant my ass on a stool beside them. Snatching up the beer intended for my brother, I drink deeply, ignoring his protests. Before us, the great oak table is crowded with raucous warriors deep into their beer. Around the periphery, more men stand or sit in clusters. Servers bustle in and out, dodging roving hands… Not always successfully.
I cannot lay all blame with Danon for his ways. He has spent his life bending to the will of my father and his fists. There was a time when I thought Danon was a weak Alpha. But I understand his journey through life was not the same as mine. The firstborn is favored, which might be a blessing