“They were already here when I got up.”
I heard the unspoken alone at the end of his sentence. I moved from the window to him, raising on my tiptoes to kiss him, balling his shirt up in my hand to keep him drawn close to me. Cash kissed the way I imagined romance novel heroes kissed, all quiet intensity I could feel right down to my toes.
I used to like reading romance, but since the supernatural community had gone public, it seemed like every author wanted to write about a werewolf hero.
I knew too many werewolves to think they were suitable fodder for romance novels.
When I pulled back from the kiss, he looked sated, less inclined to ask me about my run. And I felt more relaxed than I had since leaving the park. I was still a bundle of nerves about the terrifying woman I’d seen, but less so than before. I was glad he had stayed here instead of going to his apartment when he found me gone in the morning.
“They were asking me about a church or something. Do you have any idea what they’re talking about?”
Cash shook his head and wandered back int
o the kitchen to get our breakfast pastries. After a long run and the exertion of shifting, I’d probably eat a half dozen eggs once he was gone, but I didn’t think any human needed to see the eating habits of an adult werewolf.
My phone started to ring, the giddy sound of “Uptown Funk” brightening my morning ever so slightly. When I pulled my cell out, I noticed two missed call and several texts I must not have seen while I was driving.
“Hello?”
“Oh thank God.” The voice was female and familiar, but it took me a minute to register who it belonged to.
“Amelia?” Uncle Callum’s second-in-command. Amelia was an older woman, and until this moment I’d thought she was unflappable. Except now she sounded like she was in a state of panic, which didn’t bode well at all. I felt my blood go cold and asked, “Is it Ben? What happened?” The only reason I could imagine Amelia calling me in such a tizzy was if my twin brother had gotten into a scrape or was in serious trouble.
But Ben was the levelheaded twin. He was the one who always did the right thing, who followed the rules and bent over backwards to prove to Callum he was the natural choice to step up as pack king. As far as I was concerned there was no contest. I had no real interest in becoming the Queen of the South. Nothing could sound drier or more tedious to me than dealing with pack politics all day every day.
If only I knew what I wanted to do instead.
When your sister has already saved the world, you have an awful lot to live up to.
“Ben? No, honey, Ben’s fine. Are you okay?”
I let out a sigh of relief to know my twin wasn’t in danger. “Of course I’m okay.” I glanced out the window as I kicked off my runners. “Does this have something to do with the reporters standing on my lawn?”
“Haven’t you seen the news?”
After wandering into the living room with my coffee in one hand and my phone wedged between my ear and shoulder, I plopped onto the couch and turned on my TV. Cash returned with the fresh palmiers on a plate and sat next to me.
I mouthed the word Amelia to him. We’d been together long enough he knew all the important people in my pack life, even if he hadn’t met any of them. He placed a comforting hand on my thigh, giving me a squeeze of encouragement. Of all the people from the pack I talked with, Amelia was the one who often brought out the worst in me.
I flipped through channels until I found CNN, and I knew right away why Amelia was so worried.
A pretty blonde news anchor was posing in a serious way while a brunette woman with a smart, polished bob glowered back at her. I pulled out one earbud to better hear the TV.
“—don’t think you realize how dangerous these creatures are.”
“Are you claiming the werewolf community has done something to validate the threats they’re receiving?”
“Community.” The brunette made a noise of disgust. “We can’t talk about them like they’re people. These are monsters, plain and simple, and my group won’t stand to see them in schools, in churches, in our safe spaces.”
Cash’s hand went still, and I sucked in a breath. Maureen Cranston. I knew her shrewish, hateful face. She was the leader of the Coalition for a Pure America. Somehow they’d managed to make overt racism popular again, because it was okay to openly hate a werewolf.
I chewed on my fingernail until I remembered Amelia was still on the phone. “What’s this bitch up to now?” I spat.
Amelia sighed, and I realized my faux pas right away. Bitch. The word held a lot more weight to werewolves and wasn’t meant to be used flippantly. In fairness to me, Maureen was trying to ruin the lives of everyone I held near and dear.
The split screen changed three ways, and the familiar face of Tyler Nowakowski appeared. He was handsome in a generic way, with dark brown hair and thick, expressive eyebrows. His lean face looked more tan than usual, and I wondered what their team had been up to.
Tyler, along with his partner Emilio La Roy, were the two other parts of the special FBI unit Secret worked with to promote understanding and harmony between humans and supernaturals. They were considered the experts, so they tended to get a lot of screen time when issues like this popped up. Tyler and Emilio did, that is. Secret didn’t make the best impression with the media and had been pulled from interview duty indefinitely.