“How many packs are left?” Judith mentioned several packs in the Smoky Mountains at one time.
Sam chuckled. “Ever hear the expression, ‘If I told you, I’d have to shoot you?’ There’s more truth there than you know. High-ranking wolves are allowed the information. Our own pack is comprised of refugees from at least forty other packs.”
Yeah. Made sense. “What do you know about sorcerers?”
“Like the one who cursed you? Unlike witches, they stick to bloodlines, with mates chosen for them. They’re still as powerful as always.”
“The one I ran into had a male mate. How’s that work for the bloodlines?”
“A surrogate carries the sorcerer’s child. How do you know about his mate?”
“He cursed me because I offended his mate.” The bastard.
“Then you’re lucky to be alive. Now, this house might not be modern, but it’s comfortable. I stayed here myself when I first joined the pack before I met my darling wife.” He let out a sigh. “It was new back then.”
The frame house definitely wasn’t new now. Sam opened the door, ushering Slade inside. The place appeared small and clean, a couch and chair in the living room, a double bed in each of the two bedrooms, a shared bathroom, and a modest kitchen. Slade had stayed in worse—much worse.
Sam dug his fingers into his jeans pocket and placed a key on the coffee table. “Now, I hope you understand the need for you to stay on the compound until the alpha permits you to leave.”
“Permits?” What the ever-loving fuck?
“We can’t have lone wolves roaming through the state, or lone humans who know of us. Especially not someone as notorious as the wolf you call Noah, who’s taken his toll on the hunters, or you, a human who knows our secrets.”
Wait. What? “What do you mean, ‘the man I call Noah?’”
“We found no record of a thirtyish wolf named Noah.”
“He said his mentor, Paul, found him when he was four or five, in the woods, and he couldn’t remember who he was.”
“Highly likely, if a child that age witnessed the murder of his entire pack.” Smoothly switching to a new topic, Sam said, “There are linens in the hall closet, and we expect you in the mess hall behind the pack house promptly at six. Until the alpha decides about you, you cannot leave this house without an escort. Are we understood?”
Decides about what?
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Somuchtosee,even more to smell. Noah only ever experienced the distinct muskiness of Paul’s wolf scent. Here, trails crisscrossed and doubled back, each unique, some older than others, all with the hint of wildness Noah associated with wolf.
He looked back over his shoulder at Slade. “Will he be okay?”
“If Sam can’t make him okay, no one can.” Sheriff Mac placed a firm hand on Noah’s shoulder, not restricting, just none too subtly urging him forward.
Noah gave a hard swallow, glanced back one more time, and resumed his trek. After being alone so long, then discovering Slade, he hadn’t realized how much he counted on his lover’s reassuring presence. Now, to walk away with a stranger? His breathing hitched.
“Everything’ll be okay,” Mac said in surprisingly soothing tones for such a commanding presence. “Sam will fix him up and settle him into a guest cottage. You’ll see him again at dinner.”
A deep whiff brought sweat, cologne, the distant smell of bacon—probably from the sheriff’s breakfast—no hint of deceit. Noah relaxed as much as possible under the circumstances. They climbed three steps onto the wraparound porch of an imposing house and kept going. The house appeared old, with the front door left open.
Stepping into the foyer showed the back door open too, down a long hallway, cooling the house naturally with a steady breeze, though the air felt nippy to a guy who hadn’t lived through a Michigan winter lately. The scent of at least six wolves lingered in the area.
“My office is back here.” Sheriff Mac gestured down the hallway.
They walked side by side to the back of the house. The room might have once been a screen porch, or rather, brought to mind the screen porch of a farmer’s house where Noah once worked odd jobs.
“Sit.” Mac dropped down behind a desk, leaving Noah to take one of the two chairs in the front. The desk bore a strong resemblance to the one at the sheriff’s office in town: covered in papers, coffee cups, and likely anything else wandering too close.
“Before today, I’d smelled one other wolf before in my life that I recalled. Kind of crazy to smell so many in one place.”
“Overwhelming?” Mac relaxed back into his chair, the gesture seeming one of long habit. “We have quite a few foundling wolves we’ve taken in over the years. They all tell me the same thing.”