Bailey sighs. “Not a good foot to start out on - manipulating your new mate, Mase. Ivy is really feeling betrayed right now, and -”
“Right, here she is,” I resist the urge to grind my molars and pass the phone to Amelia, sure Bailey will find a way to articulate what Amelia needs to hear. It’s not that I want to manipulate Amelia, just put her mind at ease. Even if the Tyson and Ivy situation is tense, it’ll get resolved. Of that, I’m sure.
Amelia backs away.
“Here,” I prompt, extending the phone.
“I don’t know who you’re putting me on a phone with and I’m not about to trust the word of some person I don’t know,” Amelia informs, doing up the button on her jeans, eyes on the phone in my hand with an expression like I’m trying to hand her a flaming bag of shit.
I touch the screen and announce, “Bailey. You’re on speaker.”
“Oh,” Bailey says, sounding uncomfortable. “Okay.”
“Tell her,” I invite.
Crickets.
“Bailey?” I prompt.
“Oh. Uh… hi, Amelia. I like your sister a lot. We’ve become fast friends. I hope you and I will, too.”
Amelia sits on my bed and pulls a sock on. “I stood right here while he not-so-ingeniously coached you to say what he thinks I wanna hear.” She clears her throat. “Not trying to be rude or anything, but until I speak to my sister and hear for myself that she’s okay I’m not about to believe a word from you.”
“I was just there at Tyson’s cabin, and we talked,” Bailey says. “I promise you that.”
“She’s not injured, no blood, right?” I ask. “She’s in one piece?”
“No,” Bailey says. “Neither of those things. We brought her some coffee and had a chat.”
“Not good enough,” Amelia insists.
“I can totally appreciate and understand that,” Bailey replies. “I don’t have a sister, just a brother, but if I did, I’d feel the same.”
“Thanks a bunch, Bailey,” I mutter.
She snickers. “Sorry, Mase. I get it, though, Amelia. Congrats on finding one another. I’m really happy for you, Mase, and you too Amelia. You’re mated to a good guy. Honest, he’s one of the best guys I know. And I’m looking forward to getting to know you.”
Amelia frowns. Fully dressed, she pulls her boots on.
“Oh,” Bailey says, “And, Mase, I have a bit of information you might want that could explain some things from the Strawberry Moon-”
“Call you later. Bye, Bailey,” I say and end the call.
“Who is she?” Amelia asks, not making eye contact.
“She’s a member of our pack.”
“How many people are in your pack?” She toys with the bottom button on her pink blouse.
“With the addition of you and your sister, five hundred and forty-four.”
Her eyes widen. “That many shapeshifters? Are they all like you?”
“Like me?”
“Giant wolves.”
“We’re a pack of wolf shifters; alphas always tend to be the biggest, super-alphas even larger than that. But we have a handful of members that are human or half shifter/half human. Like Bailey. Her mother’s human, father a retired council alpha.”
“How many shapeshifters are there in total? Outside this pack?”
“Dunno. Far as we can guess, there are wolf shifters throughout the world. We’re not all in contact. I’m sure there’s a guess but that information isn’t something I have at my fingertips. Bailey might have an estimate. She’s our resident librarian and historian.”
“So… there’s a pack leader and you guys all follow him? A wolf shifter like you?” she asks. “Can I talk to him?”
“Let’s go get some food. I’m starvin’. Skipped breakfast. I’ll fill you in on how our pack works while I get food for us. You like crepes?”
“Crepes?” She blinks at me like she doesn’t understand.
“Yeah. Crepes. That okay?”
“There’s a creperie around here?”
I explain, “I worked part-time at a creperie while I was in school in Boston. Though Roxy’s bar here in the village has crepes on her menu. I taught her how to make ‘em.”
“Are you for real?” she asks, looking at me like I’ve got three heads.
“Pretty sure.” I shrug. “What is reality anyway?”
She rubs her forehead with her fingertips. “If I ask to speak to your leader, I’m guessing it’s probably a good idea to let me do that.” She crossed her arms. “Maybe it’s even a rule.”
“A rule?”
“Like… what is it… parley?”
Laughter bursts from me, making her eyes narrow.
“This isn’t the Caribbean, and we’re not pirates, Amie. You and me are not opposing forces at war.”
“Not unless you keep pushing me,” she mutters.
“What are you tryin’ to do? Get your mate in trouble?”
Her eyes light with fire. “Would you get in trouble for what you’ve done, grabbing me and holding me here against my will? Or are all of you cavemen Neanderthals?”
Right about now I want nothing more than to grab her and show her some primal instincts, but that needs to wait until after we eat. As much as I want to do nothing more than fuck for the foreseeable, the need to provide for her, nurture her – it’s innate.