were younger, that I was drawn to her, but that all changed when I saw the real Jazmine, who is none too charming.”
My curiosity got the better of me and I cut in, “She still wants to be your mate, doesn’t she?” I couldn’t deny that the idea of Jazmine cuddled up to Zane infuriated me.
“Not for the normal sentimental reasons. For her it’s all about power. Mated to me she’d have substantial … privileges.”
I decided to wait before asking more about the so-called mating privileges. I didn’t want to appear eager to become a werewolf’s mate.
Still experiencing some major anxiety about last night, I fired off a series of other must-know questions. “Who were those men that assaulted you? Why did they look so human? What about the Zebra’s attacker?”
“Whoa, slow down, I promise I’ll explain everything,” he reassured.
I wished there was a way to speed up our conversation. There was a way. “Since you seem to like the convenience of our mental chit chat, what if you just thought everything you wanted to say. That way, I’ll see the images.” This seemed like the perfect communication solution under the circumstances.
“Maybe I’d prefer to talk, you know, like two normal people.” He shrugged.
“Face it; we’re not your average Joe and Jane.”
“Take my hand.” He reached over, his unique musky scent filling my senses.
“Is this necessary?” Holding hands seemed way too intimate. After our recent kissing session, my potential reaction to his touch worried me, making it difficult to discount my feelings for him.
Ignoring my question, he grinned what seemed a very wolfy grin. In fact, I could see the wolf in all his expressions. Instead of repelling me, I was even more curious.
“Okay.” I allowed his massive hand to cover my much smaller one.
His heat penetrated through my fingers, warming areas of my body never touched by a man. I gulped, unable to look away from his gaze. The golden flecks in his eyes expanded, his wildness captivating me.
The images he transferred into my mind were crystal clear, squelching any sensuous feelings, and instead overwhelming my senses with the sights, smells, and sounds of a large gathering.
Men, women, and children mingled; eating, drinking, and dancing to the folksy songs of several musicians. Flowing skirts, cowboy hats, and denim coveralls were the fashion trend. A scene from the late 1800’s or early 1900’s had unfolded before me.
Following polite applause, the families seated themselves on long benches and wooden stools. A powerful looking man, with dark hair like Zane’s, moved with surprising stealth to the front and faced the crowd.
“Friends and family, I’m proud, as your leader, to reestablish our peace treaty with the local Indian tribes. Earlier today, we signed this document.” He held up a tanned parchment. “This agreement is based on our ability, as the purebred pack, to maintain control of the mutants, who have of late become very bothersome to our copper-skinned friends.
Ladies and children, if you’d be so kind to let the men move to the meeting room.”
The women clustered together, talking in hushed tones as the men followed their leader through a side door. One lone boy, who resembled the pack’s leader, stood off to the side. His gaze followed the trail of departing men.
“Go on, boy. Your father agreed.” A gorgeous woman, with two smaller children clinging to her skirt, prodded the older boy forward. After a brief hesitation, he dashed through the entrance to join the men in the other room.
“Who is the boy?” I asked; certain he was a relation of Zane’s.
“My father. The leader, of course, was my granddad. This event marked our renewed partnership with the Native American population. An agreement that’s stayed intact until now.”
“What do you mean, until now?”
“Keep watching.” He squeezed my hand.
Following their meeting, the men exited the building, trudging in a triangular formation into the darkness. They hiked deep into the forest, stopping outside a grassy clearing occupied by a half-circle of misshapen lean-to’s that faced several glowing bonfires.
Around the fires, figures crouched, feasting on dead carcasses — some animals — others human. Their hands and faces were splattered with gore.
Sensing the purebred pack, their lips receded. A series of snarls erupted from the camp.
Zane’s pack shifted with unparalleled speed. A visual vibration surrounded them as bones broke, split, and refitted together; faces stretched, forming the elongated muzzles I recognized from last night. The pack’s height increased, giving them the appearance of towering, fur-covered giants. Fangs glistened in the moonlight.