hand through his short brown hair. “Margery, no one will get hurt. No one will yell, either, for that matter. Admittedly, the previous alpha here was a bad egg, but this one—Shay—is one of the finest I’ve ever met, and I’ve run with some of the best.”
She stared at him. He was so blunt—which probably caused him problems—but it was nice. Somehow, she couldn’t imagine him lying.
Aaand… It seemed as if she’d be joining a pack after all. So much for well laid plans.
As they reached the sidewalk, a uniformed male approached, one even bigger than Tynan.
Margery stepped back and slightly behind Tynan.
Ignoring her wariness, the male smiled at her before shifting his focus to Tynan. “Problems?”
“Problems are handled, but we need to talk later,” Tynan said. “Margery... Margery.”
Realizing Tynan was speaking to her, she yanked her gaze from the new male and looked up.
Brows drawn, Tynan studied her. His voice turned even softer, the Irish accent deeper. “Sweetheart, Alec McGregor is the county sheriff—and a cahir. Alec, this is Margery Lavelle, a Dogwood villager, who was living in Rainier Territory.”
Alec. She blinked and looked up, past the uniform, to his face. Shaggy, golden-brown hair. Dark green eyes. The blue blade-shaped cahir scar over his left cheekbone.
She knew him—he was the cahir who’d been at the Scythe compound. One of the two who’d led the female captives into the garage. How could she not have recognized him right away?
“Ah, Calum mentioned we have a new shifter. Welcome, Margery.” The sheriff had a nice smile, a faint Southern accent…and his hand rested on his weapons belt.
How she hated those belts that screamed of cruelty.
No, that was then.
I’m here now.
She reached deep for peace. “Thank you, sir.”
“Just Alec.” When the radio on his belt chirped, he nodded and moved away.
“Come, lass. Let’s find Shay.” Tynan guided her down the sidewalk toward the diner, nodding in response to greetings from two shifter females.
“Good afternoon, Margery. It’s a fine day, isn’t it?” The white-haired, rotund woman nodded her thanks to Tynan as he held the door open for her and her pudgy poodle.
“It really is.” Margery smiled at Mrs. Neilson—and her pet. Two of her favorite customers.
As Tynan kept holding the door, Margery stepped into the diner.
Joining her, he stopped just inside and waved his hand toward a table at the front window. Two big males sat on each side of a curvy female with long hair the colors of sunlight.
“Which one is the alpha?” she whispered.
Tynan raised an eyebrow. “Use your instincts, little wolf.”
Instincts. Something she was still learning about. The Daonain usually experienced their first trawsfur at puberty. However, being on birth control and held in a human city, she and the other Dogwood females hadn’t shifted until a month after they’d been freed.
Her animal’s primal senses still needed honing. Here in Cold Creek—away from Roger—she might be able to spend more time as a wolf. Which she craved more than anything.
The shifters at the table took note of Tynan, then her.
Dear Goddess, but those males are huge.
After another calming breath, she could focus and take in the blade-shaped blue scar on each male’s cheekbone. They were both cahirs like Alec. The warriors of the God; the enforcers of the Cosantir. Scary, but scary in the defense of the Daonain.
Unlike Tynan, they had no uniforms to send her into a silly rabbit-freeze.
So, which one is the alpha?
She lifted her chin and met the dark, mean-looking one’s eyes. Then she considered the one with disheveled brown hair.
Like Tynan, he had the appearance of a Celtic warrior with thick, heavy muscles and a strong face. As she met his gaze, the power of pack hit her. Her eyes lowered in an instinctive—almost comforting—surrender to the alpha.
“Him,” she told Tynan.
“There you go. Good instincts.” He motioned her forward.
Both males stood, the female remaining seated.
Tynan kept his voice quiet so only those at the table could hear. “Shay, I’d like to introduce a new wolf to the territory. Margery is one of the Dogwood villagers.”
“Margery.” Shay held out his big hand, and she reluctantly set her fingers in his. “Are you planning to live here?”
“Yes. If it’s possible that I can?” Her answer came out sounding almost like a question.
“She works for me, Shay.” Angie walked up and put an arm around her shoulders for an affectionate squeeze. “Margery is amazing. Meant for better things, but I’ll keep her as long as she’s willing to stay.”
Margery’s throat clogged. “Thank you.”
“S’truth.” Angie squeezed again before bustling away.