“Just because I can shift doesn’t mean I’m like them.”
“That’s exactly what it means.”
I sensed there was no reasoning with her. “How many humans work here?”
“Four. But the other three are thrilled. I don’t think they’ve gone home once since the pack arrived. You should hear them talk. They’re all so freaking dazzled. Even your aunt. I swear. It’s disgusting how attentive she is to her new employer.”
“Emmy!” The snap of a familiar nasal voice had me whirling around. “If you’re done gossiping, Linda could use some help setting out breakfast.”
Emmy scurried past my aunt without a backward glance at me.
Lucy had slimmed down considerably, or perhaps it was an illusion cast by her choice of attire-a simple black sheath belted at the waist. As I kept staring at her, I realized it wasn’t an illusion. Her milky-pale cheeks had lost their roundness, and her freckled arms seemed too narrow for her column of bangles. Even her eyes had gone through a transformation. They carried haunted shadows, as though grief had absorbed into the fragile skin of her lids and swelled her orbits.
“What are you doing here, Ness?” she asked.
“I came to see Mrs. Morgan.”
“Mrs. Morgan doesn’t care for visitors. Especially Boulders.”
She spoke the word as though we were something glued to the bottom of her shoe. Granted, she wasn’t a werewolf, but being the wife of a wolf and the mother of another had made her just as much of a Boulder as I was.
“She told me to stop by.”
“I very much doubt that.” I started advancing, but she blocked the entrance of the living room. “You are no longer welcomed here. Leave.”
I reined in my annoyance by tightening my hold on my bag’s crossbody strap. “Lucy, I have to talk to her.”
“I’ll let her know you stopped by. Now, go.”
“Lucy?” came another voice that always made my hackles rise.
Her hazel eyes widened, and she mouthed, “Go,” again, but I didn’t heed her command.
Surely Aidan would allow me to meet with his cousin. He appeared behind my aunt and then slowly brushed past her. “Miss Clark, to what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?”
“I came to see Sandra.”
“Huh.” His lips twitched, and then his fingers rose to his earlobe, and he rubbed it-one of his weird little ticks. He did it when he was nervous, but he also did it when he was intrigued. His stealthy smile told me it was the latter. “Right this way.”
My aunt-former aunt-went as rigid as marble. “Aidan, I-I don’t think it’s a good idea. We don’t know what her intentions are.”
“My intentions?” I said. “You think I came to burn down the inn?”
Her nostrils flared.
“My rose”-Aidan ran a knuckle along the pillar that was Lucy’s neck-“do not fear for our safety. You know we could snap her like a twig before she’d even have time to strike a match.”
I let out a low hiss.
Leering at me, Aidan started toward the living room but stopped and patted his thigh. “Come along now.”
“I’m not a dog,” I snapped.
“Oh, I know. I’m fond of dogs; I’m not particularly fond of you.”
The feeling was mutual.
Lucy didn’t even blink as I passed by her, didn’t even twitch, but I caught the spike of her pulse and the aroma of something cold and tinny wafting over her heavy rose-and-tobacco scent: fear. Was Lucy truly scared I’d set the inn on fire? My aunt had never been a very caring person-at least not toward me-but believing me capable of arson was a whole new level.
The leather couches in the living room had been arranged in a semi-circle around the massive stone fireplace blackened by a recent fire, and the Native-American patterned rugs had been dragged in the middle. They overlapped and were strewn with throw pillows as though the yellow-stuccoed living room had become a hippy campsite.
“You like our new décor?” Aidan asked.
I eyed him.
“I think it’s much more convivial.”
“Do the rest of your hotels look like this?”
“No. But this isn’t a hotel. It’s a family home.”
From what I could see through the glass wall of windows separating the living room from the deck was that the Adirondacks and charming teak tables had been removed and replaced by plain picnic tables, the sort with attached benches. Dozens of them from the looks of it. They were lined up in two neat rows and topped with pitchers of drinks, thermoses of tea and coffee, and platters of breakfast offerings.
A handful of Creeks were already seated, digging into the food. As I stepped out, the loud chewing noises subsided and hunched backs straightened. And then heads perked up.
Only two were familiar-the Alpha’s and her daughter’s.
“Sandy, look who stopped by to see you,” Aidan said.
Cassandra’s narrow jaw moved as she chewed on whatever was in her mouth. After swallowing, she wiped her lips with a napkin. “I was expectin’ you sooner.”
My heart began to stampede inside my chest. Was walking into this den of wolves alone a poor idea? Would I leave here alive and in one piece?
I lifted my chin a notch to show I wasn’t scared, hoping they wouldn’t associate the pounding behind my ribs with fear. What else would they associate it with, though?
“Can we speak in private, Sandra?”
She smiled at me. “You may call me Sandy. All my wolves do.”
“I’m not your wolf.”
Her smile strengthened, and although she didn’t utter the word, yet, I could see its shape take form on her bluish lips. She rose and stepped over the bench. A shapeless tunic that seemed made of tarp dropped to just below her knees. “Would you like to take a stroll or sit in the living room?”
As she stepped closer, I cranked my face up. I didn’t like how small she made me feel, even though being a full head taller than me wasn’t her fault. She wasn’t even wearing shoes. Her toenails, like her fingernails, were lacquered in dark polish, and her toes were stained with dried mud and crushed grass.
“I’m not a fan of shoes. I’m not much of a fan of clothes either, but I was told walkin’ around these populated parts naked was frowned upon.”
“Where you live in Beaver Creek is that remote?”