Tamed By The She-Wolf. Kristal Hollis
best. Life was a competition to win and affection merely distracted one from the ultimate end goal.
If Lincoln had remembered what his family had taught, he wouldn’t have allowed his emotions to lead him and his team into a trap. While in Walker’s Run, he needed to stay focused on his mission and not be led astray by indulging in errant emotions and human customs, or he would screw up his chance to get back on active duty and lose the only opportunity he had to find Dayax.
“Tristan’s office is on the third floor,” Brice said, approaching.
Lincoln matched Brice’s stride but remained a half step behind him. As progressive as some wolfan packs were, a natural pecking order remained. Brice, the Alpha-in-waiting and a direct descendant of the first Alpha of Walker’s Run, deserved his respect.
The Wahyas of Walker’s Run had done well in choosing an Alpha family who, through the generations, had remained committed to serving the pack rather than accumulating wealth and power.
Not that the Alpha family didn’t have both. The difference being that they shared the wealth and utilized the power for the benefit of the pack.
All able-bodied adult pack members were expected to work and contribute to the pack’s finances—a tithe of sorts to the Walker’s Run Co-operative that funded their health care, education, business start-ups and things for the pack’s overall enjoyment. The Co-op’s Family Park, for instance, included a baseball field, picnic pavilions and an entertainment stage. Unfortunately, the stage itself had been destroyed a few months back by a diversionary explosion in a domestic power struggle between a pack member and an outsider.
It might be easy for wolfan rogues to mistake the peace-loving Walker’s Run pack as being ripe for a takeover. However, Lincoln had seen enough of the world to recognize that wolfans and humans who fought to defend their families and their ideals could become the deadliest forces on the planet.
They stopped at the brass elevators rather than continuing to the wide, curved hardwood stairs.
“I can make it up the steps,” Lincoln said, trying to keep the strain from his voice. If he couldn’t convince Brice of his fitness, he’d have no chance swaying the medical review board.
“Be my guest,” Brice replied without censure. “But I can’t. Cold weather wreaks havoc on my bad leg. It’s a struggle to stand and walk today. Climbing the stairs will likely do me in.”
Ding! The doors slid open and Brice stepped inside the elevator. Lincoln joined him.
“I meant what I said last night before you left.” Brice held Lincoln’s gaze as the elevator began to climb. “Regardless of when you retire, I hope you’ll consider settling down in the Walker’s Run territory.”
“I appreciate the invitation,” Lincoln said. “It’s hard to look that far ahead when all I can think about is that scared wolfling waiting for me to keep my promise.” A new pack, a new home, a new family to keep him safe: That was what Lincoln had vowed to find for Dayax. Until Lincoln fulfilled that oath, he couldn’t begin to think of his own future.
The elevator doors opened. Instead of guest rooms, the third floor housed offices and conference rooms.
He followed Brice to an office with a large interior glass window looking into the corridor. No matter how civilized they became, wolfans didn’t like being boxed in.
The wolfan sitting behind the desk and the one leaning next to him with his palm flat on the desk blotter studying the computer screen looked up as he and Brice entered.
“Lincoln, this is Tristan Durrance, our chief sentinel.” Brice waved his hand toward the blond man behind the desk beginning to stand.
“Finally, a face to go with the voice.” Grinning, Tristan extended his hand in the customary greeting that Wahyas who worked closely with humans had adopted. “Sorry about the mix-up with the key.”
“No worries. Angeline got me oriented and I’ve settled in.” Lincoln pocketed the key Tristan handed to him.
“Great.” Tristan hiked his thumb toward the man beside him. “This is Reed Sumner, one of our lieutenants.”
Like Shane, Reed greeted him with an obligatory nod of acknowledgment rather than a handshake. After pleasantries were exchanged, they discussed the recent run-ins with illegal game poachers inside the pack’s protected forest and a series of unrelated attacks by revenge-seeking wolfans. In Lincoln’s experience, their concerns were generally consistent with what most first-world packs dealt with from time to time.
“It would be a great help if you ran through our security protocols and advised where and how to tighten our current measures,” Tristan said.
Reed cut his eyes at Lincoln.
He needed to be careful to avoid stepping on the lieutenant’s paws.
“Sounds like Reed has a good handle on things,” Lincoln told Tristan, then turned his attention back to Reed. “But I’d love to stretch my legs if you don’t mind a tagalong.”
“I’d appreciate the company,” Reed said, beginning to relax. “Is now too soon?”
“Not for me.” Lincoln admired how their recent adversities had brought the Walker’s Run pack closer together, making them stronger rather than tearing them apart. They were a united force working toward a common goal.
A team.
Something Lincoln no longer had.
His ribs seemed to fold in on his lungs. The immense sorrow he buried after realizing his team members had died because of their loyalty to him threatened to surface. If he gave in to the grief, it would simply consume him and their deaths would be in vain. He needed to keep a clear mind and a singular focus on finding Dayax.
Five o’clock, and a few early birds were seated inside Taylor’s Roadhouse. According to Reed, by eight the place would be packed and Lincoln wanted to be out before the crowd arrived.
Funny how masses of people had not bothered him while on active duty. However, a few days ago in the Munich airport surrounded by hundreds of people, he’d experienced the first panic attack in his life. Accelerated heart rate, shortness of breath, ringing in his ears, cold, clammy hands despite sweating profusely, had forced him to seek solace in the men’s room. What an unwelcomed start to his first venture back into the civilian world. A splash of cold water on his face and a harsh internal dialogue had gotten him through the episode. And he’d sincerely hoped it would be the last.
However when Reed had invited him to meet up with some of the security team tonight, the same odd creepy-crawly sensation had tightened Lincoln’s chest and he’d begged off with a rain check. Of course, that didn’t mean he would deprive himself of “the best steaks in three counties.” Nor did he want to miss a chance to talk to Angeline.
Last night, he’d made the right call not telling her about his connection to Tanner Phillips. But after the strained way they’d parted, she might not answer the door if he knocked. Clearly, he’d upset her, but the conversation was leading to a road he wasn’t allowed to explore, no matter how much he might want to do so.
Visually, he searched the restaurant for her, but only spotted one server. A blonde a few inches shorter than Angeline, and human. Wahyas had an eerie sense that allowed them to recognize their own kind. And she did not set off any signals, wolfan or otherwise.
An older woman approached the hostess station. Silver threads glinted in her hair, the rich, robust color of chestnuts but her eyes matched the exact shade of Angeline’s sapphire blues.
“Welcome to Taylor’s.” Her wide, genuine smile appeared all too human. “You must be Lincoln.”
A prickle scaled his spine. “Yes, ma’am. And you are?”