“I’ll pour some beverages,” Cicely says. “Where does Mase keep the glasses?”
Skye points to show her and then looks to me. I’m standing like a deer caught in the headlights when she asks, “How’s Ivy doing?”
I hesitate, then softly say, “Better, I think. But he whisked us out of there before I could talk to her.” I don’t bother to hide how I feel about that.
Skye gives me a look of sympathy. “Alphas.”
“She’s doing well,” Bailey informs. “Really well. I talked to Cat a little while ago. They just left, headed home.”
I was prepared to go for a fake nap while my ‘babysitters’ were here, so I don’t have to be sociable. And then maybe taking the opportunity to find a way to sneak off before Mason got back.
But I’m hungry. And I’m curious about that punch with all the fruit floating in it. And despite being upset that these people know what’s going on with my sister when I don’t, I decide to sit down at the counter and see where the conversation takes us. If nothing else, it’ll be a time killer while I wait for the right opportunity to skedaddle.
I see movement in the backyard, so I crane my neck to get a better look. Mason’s father is lowering the big boat down from the hoist it’s on. He has a big toolbox beside him. The perimeter of trees surrounding the lake have more buds today. Things are looking just a little less sparse. Spring is springing. And I’m suddenly itchy to catch a whiff of the air.
“Mind if I open a window?” I ask Skye.
“This is your house. Open your windows. Break ‘em if you wanna.”
I laugh but then sober. “This isn’t my house.”
She pats my arm. “It is, lovey. Mase built it for you. Here.” She passes me a drink. “Bailey, can you open that patio door and then we’ll have a toast?”
Bailey opens the door, leaving the screen across before the three women move in and surround me as I lift the glass toward my mouth.
It’s definitely cool out there, but it smells like spring. And the smell is actually wonderful.
“Welcome, again,” Skye says, “to our pack and to my family, Amelia. We look forward to getting to know you.”
I pause. I’m not ready to drink to that. But no one is ready for me to drink yet because then Cicely pipes up.
“I’ve been lookin’ forward to having a drink with you since I saw you spray Mase’s face. Hope we’ll be friends. I liked you the minute you got all up in my grill demanding answers about your sister. You’ve got moxie, babe.”
“Yeah. Thanks for your help,” I mutter. “Not.”
She scoffs. “Rules ‘n all.”
I roll my eyes.
“Lots of things to learn about shifter pack life,” Bailey says. “If you need information, don’t hesitate to talk to me. Consider me your local shifter life wiki. Cheers to you.”
“Bailopedia,” Cicely says.
“Drink up,” Skye bumps her shoulder against mine.
“Wait.” I request. “How about we instead drink to this lovely spread here. Skye, you seem to do it up right with the booze and the food.”
“Dig in,” Skye invites.
“I’m not drinking to a welcome or to me and your son. Because I’m not staying.”
“Yes, you are.” Cicely waves her hand. “You can’t deny the claim of an alpha wolf shifter, no matter who you are. But one of our council extreme-alphas? Ha. Nice try. You need schooling, sister. Drink up and we’ll fill you in. We might need all this hooch to get this resistant chickie up to speed on her new reality.”
“This is witchcraft. And I’m not down with that. I’m gonna find out how to undo this spell so we can all get on with our lives. I don’t need any information from you guys. Unless you can enlighten me about the witchcraft stuff?”
Nobody says anything, so I continue.
“And, well… feel free to skip the shifter 101 human acclimation or whatever you’re thinking you’re gonna do here.”
“All get on with our lives? Who all?” Skye asks.
“Me, Ivy, Tyson, Mason. You and your husband, Mrs. Quinn. And whoever else’s life has been affected by the meddling my Auntie Nelle got up to. She meant well; I know she did – but she was wrong to do this. There might be two shifter women here currently getting cheated out of their own super extreme alphas or whatever you call them.”
“Drink up. We won’t hold you to staying based on drinking to a toast,” Cicely says.
I put the drink to my lips and take a sip.
Yum. Boozy punch. And the booze is smooth. And the ice tastes fruity. Way better than ice watering down a drink. I might wanna be Skye Quinn when I grow up. Day drinking on a Thursday? On just a couple hours of sleep? A pirate’s life indeed.