Chapter 4 : A Job To Do

My wolf growls at me, deep and strong. The sound causes me to pause. It’s the kind of growl that tells me I’m being a moron. She’s drawn to them. Three handsome kings smile at me and she rolls over.

How can these men act this way?

And by that, I mean how can they behave with such kindness and caring?

They want something from me, of course. They want my help ridding their kingdom of the rogues. After all, if anyone’s going to terrorize their people, it’s going to be the Leavenworths themselves, right?

“Thanks for your concern, all of you, but I’ve been hunting tougher rogues than these for a long time. I have a job to do, and I always keep my commitments,” I say to my wolf and the Alpha kings.

They’re silent for a moment but the looks on their faces are identical and filled with respect.

“We’re fortunate to have you working for us,” Jordan says.

“Instead of your father,” Kent adds, an offhand comment.

My hackles raised, I politely sip my second cup of coffee. “He taught me everything I know, and he sent me here.”

“One point in his favor,” Kent mutters under his breath, and I catch the others’ expressions. They’re all on the same wavelength.

“He’s the best at what he does.” My voice rings out, slightly high after their insults.

“I have no doubt,” Kent says, backtracking, and the others nod.

“He just meant that you’re the greatest hunter around,” Jordan amends like a smooth politician.

“At least according to everyone we’ve talked to,” Wiley adds. “Way ahead of your father.”

“You have zero credibility,” I snarl. “All of you. Do you share one brain?”

Why did I say that?

Wiley laughs out loud, startling the servant who’s come to see if we want anything else. “I like her. She’s got a lot of fire.”

“Dad’s set some people’s fur on fire himself over the years,” I admit. “He’s the type who thinks it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission–except where our Alpha and council are concerned, of course.”

And he wants to be Alpha of this pack, to take over.

Something is nagging at me now. I’ve always known Dad had big dreams, but he never mentioned wanting to be Alpha of any pack. Except in the way that most ordinary people do, commenting, “Well, if I were Alpha, this place would be run better.” Is this something recent?

He’s such a good man. I know he could do better running this pack than the Leavenworths.

Kent is mindful of his brothers’ watchful stares. He smells cautious mixed with that persistent pine resin. Maybe they use it in their shampoo?

Kent says, “His hard-driving approach is the key to his success for sure. But I won’t take back what I said. It’s you we need.”

I blush. “I’m sorry for–”

Jordan holds up his hands. “We were the same way five minutes ago about our dad.”

Now I relax, letting out the breath I’ve been holding. “Thank you. I’d hate to kill this mission before it even starts.”

“Trust me, that’s the last thing we want,” Jordan reassures me. “And this is just part of getting to know each other.”

“After all, you could be with us for days.” Wiley sounds enthused about that.

“Or weeks,” Kent comments.

Jordan rolls his eyes. “Always so conservative.”

“Under-promise and over-deliver, brother,” Kent replies.

Their banter is fun. It’s impossible to fake the genuine affection they have for each other.

I wondered, planning for this mission, if I couldn't get them to turn on each other so that they’d make my job easier. Watching them now, I suspect that turning them into the shifter equivalent of Cain and Abel is even more of a snowball’s chance in Hades. I’ll have to find some other way, and that’ll take a lot of time spent up close and personal, sniffing out any weaknesses.

“I assume your files on these rogues are extensive?” I ask Kent and Wiley.

“As thick as a college textbook,” Wiley replies with pride. “Everything from what they eat for breakfast to how often and with whom they have sex.”

I can’t resist asking, “What about this Rollo?”

Kent wiggles his eyebrows. “He’s a busy boy in that regard, according to rumor.”

“Consoling himself with a string of one-night stands after losing his mate?” I ask.

Wiley’s brows shoot up. His are shaggier than Kent’s perfectly trimmed ones, but Kent has somewhat thinner features. Jordan’s are thick and fluffy but still neat. “I like your boldness. That’s exactly what he’s doing. Some shifters die or kill themselves after the mate bond is broken. But some just try to forget.”

“I can’t imagine what that’s like to lose a mate,” I say with compassion.

All three golden heads shoot up and they look at me strangely.

“Well, just because he’s done bad things doesn’t mean I can’t feel pity for him,” I defend myself, and reach for the plate of sandwiches on the table. They’re all gone.

“Shall we call for more?” Jordan inquires politely.

I rub my stomach. “No thanks. I have to save room for whatever feast Wiley was supervising in the kitchen.”

They all laugh with genuine warmth.

“I’m sure before that you’d like to refresh yourself,” Kent says graciously, handing me a file marked “Rollo Seabrook” as a little light reading. “We’ve seen and heard nothing about the rogues for the moment. They’ve probably gone underground.”

Wiley adds, “Sometimes they even retreat across the invisible fence, figuring we won’t chase them into human territory–they’re usually right.”

Jordan pipes in. “So, there’s no rush to track them down, at least this evening. We can all just relax.”

I shrug. Dinner will be a good opportunity to observe them when their guards are down. “That sounds wonderful. And I’d love a tour of this amazing place. It looks like a storybook.”

“I’ll have one of our guards show you to your room,” Jordan says. “We have some pack business to attend to before we can make ourselves available for the evening.”

With monumental effort, I rise from the comfortable sofa and Kent hoists my backpack over his shoulder. What a gentleman.

We walk into the throne room.

It’s majestic, covered in rubies and shades of red. Six jewel-studded thrones sit on a dais at the far end of a hall that could fit the population of my hometown inside–it’d be standing room only, but still. Guards line either side of the wine-colored carpet running from the steps of the dais to the far end of the room.

Jordan signals to one of the guards. A male about my age, he’s even more buff than the kings, and shorter, too. He has close-cropped black hair and deep black eyes.

“Aurora Blessing, meet one of our gammas in the Royal Guard, Lucas Bateson, who’ll be guarding and assisting you,” Jordan says with a smile. “Lucas, don’t let this lady out of your sight unless you’re with us. ‘Cause you may get a rematch against the rogues.”

Kent tosses him the backpack. “You two could be a formidable team.”

Lucas’s eyes shine like black buttons. “Thank you, Alphas. Miss Blessing, follow me.”

“What time is dinner?” I ask.

“Six-thirty, but we’ll have cocktails at six,” Wiley says as he grins.

I bow my head. “I’ll be counting the minutes.”

“In the meantime, I’ll send you everything else we have on the rogues,” Kent says dryly.

As I follow Lucas out another door, I wonder if they’ll have my favorite wine ready. If they know how I take my coffee, they know a lot of other things.

I wonder what’s in Kent’s file on me. How could I get a look at it? I want to make sure there’s nothing that could even remotely trigger his suspicions. Maybe I can sneak a peek when I look through his intelligence on the rogues.

“Awe-inspiring, isn’t it?”

I blink, glancing around me at the magnificence. The sheer elegance. Golden stone walls pair with the red accents everywhere. More floor-length vases and statues. Priceless artworks. It’s like Versailles hidden in the Pacific Northwest.

“It’s beautiful. Has it always been this way?”

“I’ve only been here three years, but I gather it hasn’t changed much since Alpha Morland’s time,” Lucas replies, striding ahead of me, leading me down corridor after corridor and into an elevator where we ride to the top floor. “Many of the art and antiques have been in the family for centuries.”

That makes me feel better. At least they didn’t go out and buy all this stuff while their people were starving.

“But the kings do like to live large,” Lucas says.

I feel a strange pang of disappointment. “It’s good to be the king.”

“And their guests.” He waves me down a quiet corridor and into a luxurious bedroom. Its burgundy-covered bed is as big as our kitchen. And on the bed …

I march over and pick up a slinky black sheath dress. “Whose is this?”

Matching shoes sit in a box next to the bed.

Lucas coughs and sets my backpack down. “Yours for the evening–and while you’re here. And to keep. The kings wanted to express their gratitude.”

“It’s in my size,” I say.

“Of course.” He shuffles his feet, waiting. “Can I do anything else?”

“Alpha Kent was going to give me everything he has on the Olympic Howlers.”

“Of course. I’ll fetch that right away. I’ll leave you to it.”

Once he leaves, I sink down on the bed. If I thought the sofa was a challenge, the bed could swallow me and not let me go.

I can’t let myself become that comfortable. Not on the sofa, not in the bed, and definitely not with the Leavenworths!

I shift to wolf form, shedding my clothes, and mind-link with my father. “I’m here. I’m in. I’m going to take these guys down.”