Chapter 2: Standoffs and Stools

The introduction had gone down about as well as soured milk. Unfortunately for the Alpha who was ogling his mate’s curves, his second-in-command was not fast enough to get Caleb’s head out of his ass.

“I—you—you’re mine.” His lack of confidence was brief, the claim coming quickly. Before the string of curses and threats could start flying from Sadie’s mouth, Nash burst in and interrupted.

“Sadie, right? Yeah, I'm sure Caleb here just said something controlling or stupid, right?”

A curt nod was her only response. Despite the first male’s very obvious faults perhaps this one had manners.

“And Caleb,” Nash pulled his reticent Alpha’s arm, receiving a growl for his efforts, “Sadie was not aware of anything to do with us. To her, you are just a large, strange man ogling her lovely ass—”

Caleb was feeling the heat of finding his mate; the normally laid-back and reasonable Alpha was feeling possessive. Far too possessive to let any other male comment on his mate's body—not even a mated male. In a flash, Caleb had an arm across his Beta’s chest, snarling in a threatening voice, “She’s mine.”

Nash hadn’t been put in charge of newly mated pairs for nothing, though. Back home when a new pair rejoined the pack after seclusion, it was with Nash nearby. He knew exactly how to respond. Casting his eyes down and opening up his neck to show submission, he spoke again. “Alpha, I'm mated, and I submit to your law. As your Beta, please let me help.”

Those were the right words. Caleb shook his head as if trying to remove water. “Nash, sorry. Damn it.” Caleb immediately lowered the Alpha pressure and stepped back. “Help me out,” he commanded, far more gently now, looking at Sadie like a man expecting true wonder for the first time.

“Sadie, this is Caleb, the Alpha of the Painted Ridge Pack of Billings, Montana. I'm his Beta, Nash. We’ve come this far because Caleb started scenting his mate around a month ago. Anything interesting happen then?” Nash explained calmly, keeping a firm hand on Caleb’s chest.

“Sure. The first full moon after my 22nd birthday. I don't know what that has to do with anything,” Sadie replied. “I know the Old Law. If he is scenting me as his mate, I should be scenting him as mine. I'm not. So clearly, he’s mistaken. Or maybe he is looking for Sutton or Sienna.”

Caleb felt a low, vibrating growl starting deep in his chest—a physical reaction to his wolf’s indignation. To be told he was mistaken when her scent was currently lighting up his nervous system like a power surge was almost amusing, if it weren't so damn frustrating. He took a slow, deliberate breath, forcing his hands to stay at his sides instead of reaching out to pull her off that step stool and bury his face in the crook of her neck. He needed to ground himself. He wasn't in the industrial wilds of Billings; he was in a kitchen that smelled like lemon wax and overpriced Georgia air, facing a woman who looked at him like he was a faulty piece of equipment.

“I’m not mistaken, Sadie,” Caleb said, his voice dropping an octave, thick with the effort of holding back his dominance. He didn't move closer, though every instinct screamed at him to close the gap. “And I’m not Sutton’s, and I’m sure as hell not Sienna’s.” Those two were beautiful, there was no denying that. Nash seemed to enjoy talking to them in the moments Caleb had allowed it, before his annoyance got the better of him. They hadn’t done anything wrong. They just weren’t Sadie.

He watched her, his green-and-gold eyes tracking the way she held her jerky like a weapon. He tried to soften his gaze, to look less like a predator. “The ‘Old Law’ you’re reading about... it’s a framework, a, a guide, not a blueprint. Sometimes the bond doesn't snap into place for both sides at the same second. Especially if you’ve spent your life around wolves who treat their nature like a weekend hobby.”

He let out a short, dry huff of air—not quite a laugh, but close. “It’s actually something else, watching you try to litigate me out of my own senses. I’ve spent my life running a pack and managing molten metals; I know the difference between a glitch and a fact. You’re the fact.” He held his palms out, open and empty, a silent peace offering that cost him every ounce of restraint.

“I’m not going to force you to smell what I smell. But I’m also not leaving this house without you. So, finish your snack, Sadie. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do, and I’ve got all the time in the world to prove to you that my nose works just fine.”

“Oh, really?” Sadie stood on her stool as if being taller gave her some sort of advantage. Even on the stool she wasn’t much taller than these two men. “You do what you want. Go to hell for all I care. I'm calling my Alpha, William.”