Page 54 of Luna Trials

I creaked open the bedroom door, checking to see if she was gone, and closed it again with a sigh. Breakfast hours were almost over. The snacks I’d grabbed from the vending machine were barely enough to sate my hunger.

I needed meat.

With the late nights and early wakeups, I wasn’t feeling like myself. If I didn’t get enough sleep, I got hungrier. Hungry and tired led to cranky and I had enough going on without my basic animalistic needs getting in the way.

My cellphone finally rang.

Thank the Goddess.

“An inmate from Holton Penitentiary is calling. Do you accept charges from: It’s me, bitch?”

“I accept.”

“See. I told you I could help.” Clara laughed on the other end of the line. “Get a pen. You’re going to want to write this down.”

*

The clothes may have helped with my confidence, but being armed with actual knowledge made me feel more in control.

My gaze swept the cafeteria of late risers enjoying breakfast and I breathed through my mouth so as not to overwhelm my beast with the intoxicating scent of testosterone in the morning.

I’ve got this.

“So I told him, you take your deal and shove it up your…” Landon North, oil tycoon from the Alma Pack in Texas, wore timberland boots and had sun kissed skin with a cute little dimple on his cheek. His family was constantly acquiring new territory and had questionable dealings with the government.

I stepped around his table, heading to the breakfast buffet, and silently repeated the information Clara had given me like I was studying for a test.

“Bless your heart.” Cindy Frazier, with her red hair pinned to the top of her head, sat prim and proper with her cousin Wyona and their Alpha’s son, Brett. They were old money from Georgia and weren’t known for their southern hospitality.

“I’d kill for some good biscuits and gravy,” Cindy said. I kept my eyes glued to the tray. She worried me a bit more than the others. There were rumors about some kind of pageant gone wrong.

“What are biscuits and gravy?” Colton Penobscot asked. He was from Northern Maine and wore suspenders that stretched across his muscled chest. Hilary, his sister, sat beside him. They had ties with the Irish Wolfhound Mafia if Clara’s source was right.

A few of the other Luna candidates lingered over their empty trays, chatting up the Alphas who were still eating. I didn’t know all of them, but that was probably a good thing. The dirt Clara was able to dig up only applied to those who had associations through less than desirable channels.

Opal’s lowered head caught my attention across the other side of the room near the pastry counter. I called to her, but she hurried out the doors carrying a plate stacked full of sprinkled doughnuts. Clara hadn’t been able to find out much about Opal other than she was from a small West Virginia pack. For some reason, that made me like her more.

Too bad she was so skittish.

“Aspen, come sit with us,” Fallon called out as I turned with my full tray. My heart slammed hard against my chest, seeing Ranger’s dark brown eyes fixated on me.

Fallon and Ranger McCaw from Washington state. I’d expected more information from Clara on them, but they were anomalies. It seemed that everything about them was already public record and their hands were clean.

I didn’t believe it. Not for a second. Especially when Ranger’s presence set my blood pumping and he had red warning flags practically waving around his head.

But I liked Fallon, so I was torn, and I didn’t want to make an enemy of some of the most powerful shifters in this room.

“Good morning.” I forced myself to smile as I set my tray on their table. The scent of musky pine made my wolf preen and pant. I needed to feed her, fast. “Did we decide what to do about the gift bags yet?”

“Gift bags?” Chad Tulia asked. He was classically handsome with that mischievous grin thatmade you smile without thinking. It set me at ease, or maybe it was that his family spearheaded multiple education projects for shifter teens.

It also didn’t hurt that he pulled out my chair.

Edith and Lilith and Chad were close, raised by Chad’s father and his mother who worked on shifter reform for the state of California. They were rich, rich. Like godly rich. His uncle dealt with buying and liquidating certain businesses, but seemed like the only sully to the Tulia name. And even then, nothing could be proven.

I scooted the chair over a bit, keeping all of them in my line of sight like I’d be able to do anything if they pounced. “We talked about gift bags for the children’s hospital yesterday.”

Ranger leaned back in his chair, still staring at me as he folded his arms across his chest. I felt exposed, naked under his intense gaze. I twisted the fork in my hand.

---