Page 7 of Mating Season

Fuck.I was failing him.

“When was the last time you got any sleep?”

“I’ll sleep at home.” He brushed me off as he powered up his laptop. “First we need to get Aspen.”

My beast was growling at the overly familiar use of her name, but I’d have to be blind to not see his attachment to her was more than a job. There was something about her that was making him this focused and intense.

“Are you in love with her?” I had to ask.

The shock on his face was a welcome relief. “Not like that, Alpha.” He bared his neck. “It’s just…”

“Go on,” I prompted.

He lowered his eyes but not before I saw the fresh tears that filled them.“She cares. Before she evenknew who I was, she cared. Our Luna deserves better than this.”

With my jaw muscles tightening again, I nodded. “We’ll get her back. Where did they drop the crates?”

Ivan wiped his eyes and powered up his laptop. He opened a few tabs.

I didn’t realize how close John had gotten until he was practically up my ass. “You have a map?”

“How are you getting internet?” Tucker Jones stood on his toes near the fountain, holding his phone in the air.

“Satellite link.” I growled for the surrounding shifters to back up.

John didn’t listen.

Ivan layered two files, zooming in on the forest service map overlayed with the topographic regional one, and circled an area with his cursor. “They’re up here.”

I elbowed John so he wasn’t breathing down my neck. “No service roads.” I zeroed in on the multicolored lines. “There’s a national forest logging road that ends at the base here, but I’m not sure it’s been used recently.”

“We travel by paw then.” John was so close I could smell the beer on his breath.

“What do you mean, ‘we?’” I glared at John.

He shrugged, stepping back.

I took a good look around. All the Alphas and the few packmates from the woods were gathered in the front yard pacing and trying to get a glimpse ofIvan’s laptop. Fur was breaking out in patches and growls sounded as toes were stepped on. The testosterone was as thick as the smell of musty sweat in the air. Andrew from the Yuma Pack was in human form with his wolf’s tail swishing behind him like some dominant flag.

They were losing it.

“No,” I growled.

“They’re just kids,” John muttered, but I could sense he felt the same.

“Not my problem,” I said, and meant it.

“Hey Ranger,” Trenton of all people spoke louder than the crowd of grumbling Alpha mutts. “What’s the plan?”

I wanted to wipe the smug grin off his face. He knew exactly what he was doing. Calling me out in front of the pack was a power move, intending to make me seem weak. The joke was on him though.

I had nothing to prove.

“Yeah, Ranger,” Colton Penobscot yelled. “Where are the girls?”

I once thought I liked that kid.

“Don’t look at me.” John chuckled. “They’re calling you out by name.”

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