War of Hearts (True Immortality) - S Young Page 0,5
could live happily off its proceeds. Moreover, Conall’s dad bought shares in the largest oil company in the North Sea. Conall had sold the shares and that, along with the successful fishing company his delta, Mhairi Ferguson, managed, meant Pack MacLennan lived a comfortable life.
Most of the pack worked at various jobs in the surrounding areas, especially Inverness, the nearest city, while a few others lived and worked farther afield. Conall supplemented all their incomes with a share of the pack’s fortune.
Now Peter Canid was offering his second-youngest daughter, Sienna, in a betrothal agreement that would suit both packs. Conall would pay a substantial dowry for Sienna, and Canid and his large pack—made up of an impressive percentage of warrior-ranked wolves—would become a powerful ally to Conall’s small pack.
“You dinnae have to do this, you know,” James said as Conall parked the Defender in the car park of the Coach House.
Ignoring that comment, Conall got out and didn’t bother locking the car. No one would dare steal it.
“Callie doesnae want you to do it.”
That stopped Conall in his tracks. He turned to face James. “Callie’s a romantic.”
He could still see her pretty face red with frustration when he told her about Sienna Canid. Dowries and betrothal agreements weren’t unusual in the lives of werewolves. They were a primal race, and that meant most of them still based their idea of power on physical strength. There were a few alpha females in the world, but males outnumbered them and few could outmatch an alpha male when she faced one. That meant, unfortunately, males ruled the werewolf world.
It wasn’t the way with Pack MacLennan. Conall’s inner circle wasn’t male-centric, like most packs. His beta was male, but his delta was female, and before she got sick, Callie was his lead warrior. As for his warriors, they were a mix of male and female, his two healers one of each.
Bowing to tradition chafed at Conall, but in this case, for the pack, he would do it. Even if it meant upsetting the one person he hated distressing.
Anguish crossed James’s face. “This is hurting her, Conall. Could you not at least wait until …”
Inwardly, he flinched. Outwardly, he took a menacing step toward his friend. “Until what? Until she dies?”
“You know I didnae mean that.” James shrugged helplessly. “I just want her to be happy.”
“You care too much for my sister’s happiness.” Conall strode from his friend, bristling with frustration. He was well aware his beta was in love with his sister. Under normal circumstances he would give his blessing, grateful that Callie would be with someone who equaled her in strength of body and spirit. But Callie was no longer the alpha she’d once been.
And encouraging a relationship between her and James would only lead to heartbreak.
Irritated that James had upset him seconds before he was to meet with Canid, Conall attempted to shrug off the feeling as he entered the Coach House.
Grace greeted him. She was a petite woman in her late seventies and yet, with her dark brown hair, bright blue eyes, and fairly wrinkle-free, pale skin, she didn’t look a day over fifty. Another reason the pack sought seclusion. They could live to a good thirty years beyond the normal human life span and aged at a slower rate.
Grace patted Conall on the arm and muttered, “They’re in the pub.”
Nodding, he strolled down the narrow corridor that led into the pub, feeling James fall into step behind him. He was so tall he had to bend to avoid the low ceiling, which thankfully opened up as soon as he stepped into the cozy public house.
A fireplace that took up much of the far wall hosted a lit wood burner. Despite the bright sun outside, the days were still cold this far up the coast, and although wolves did not feel the chill as humans did, the fire was still welcome. On the opposite wall was the bar, a traditional chestnut counter that gleamed under candle bulbs set into black iron fittings. Angus, Grace’s husband, stood behind the bar. They shared a nod in greeting.
As it was a Monday morning, the pub was quiet. Even if it had been busy, Conall would have known where the Canids were before he saw them. He’d met Peter Canid before. He had his scent, and it was more than just a wolf’s heightened senses. Conall had a gift for finding people. In another life, he would have made an excellent private investigator.