Chapter 18: The Beta Pack’s Quarters

“You okay?”

Colton comes through loud and clear, checking on me, and for a second it warms me that he does—that maybe he felt my nervousness. His voice is that sound of home that I never knew I needed, and I find myself exhaling, like I've been holding my breath, as I lean back into the chair less stiffly.

Just waiting on the others and sitting by the fire.

I reply, setting his mind at ease and hoping I sound as comfortable here as I am pretending to be.

I won't be long. My father kept all the leaders back to talk plans, schedules—you know what I mean. If you need me, I'll leave our link open. Don't let any of them give you any shit, or else they'll have to deal with me.

His deep, husky voice has me pining for his presence, and I sigh wearily.

Matteo is being a gentleman and taking care of me; I'm sure he'll intervene.

I'm trying to make him relax, but the overwhelming surge I get back from his emotions—that he didn't like what I said—surprises me. It's a hint of jealousy, and I blink at Matteo as though I'm missing the point. He has his back to me, pouring his drink, and is nowhere near me.

Right. Like I said, I won't be long.

His tone is clipped, and he closes the link before I can respond. Despite saying he wouldn't, he sounds off and moody, and I swear it actually makes me want to laugh at how ridiculous he’s being. He sent me here with Matteo, and now he’s what? Jealous because I said he was being nice? I knew males were territorial and possessive by nature, worse so when they mate up, but I'm not even his, and he has nothing to worry about. We imprinted, and the Fates made sure I have no desire to look at anyone else, even if he did reject me.

I inhale sharply, shake it off, and go back to staring at the fire, trying not to let him get to me as the door swings open and two boys stomp in, arguing with one another.

“You're a liar; I didn't say anything of the sort.” The first male snaps, turning and spotting me. He instantly frowns like he’s just been faced with a terrible or vile sight. He stops dead as the other collides into the back of him with an exaggerated “whooomph” noise. He's unsurprisingly dark-haired, tanned, and has your typical Colombian look to him. All the Santos originated from there before coming here a few generations ago. They tend to mate up with others like them, so the bloodline stays purest, and most of the males are sent back in early childhood to spend time in their homelands; so, most have mixed accents, like Colton does.

“Hey, watch it!” the other voice snarls angrily and shoves him forward, exposing an identical face and equal build, and I realize these two boys are twins. If memory serves, I can pull from Colton’s mind that this is Domi and Remi. They're younger than Colton by a year, making them eighteen, like me. Both are lanky, tall, athletic boys with brown hair and soft hazel eyes. More Santos—and I know for sure they're Colton’s distant cousins on his mom's side.

“And she is here why?” The first one turns to Matteo with a growl and is met with a snarl in response. Matteo seemingly grows an inch taller and faces them down.

“Because Colton said so, and I doubt he wants to hear you were questioning it!” It's not a friendly tone, and it has the effect of dampening down the attitude on one of the twins, at least.

“He's not questioning; he's just a little shocked that our pack room has someone... not of our pack,” the other chirps in, throwing me a devious side-eye. I shrivel back into my chair, aware that the waves of prickling heat coming my way are hostility, even while he is smiling like it's not.

“Who's not in our pack?” That female voice I've been dreading the arrival of comes wafting in as she walks through the door. Thick like honey and sultry, it precedes her entry. She sashays in like the Queen of the Manor and stops dead in her tracks when she spots me. Her grey eyes instantly storm over, her pouty mouth forms a thin, tight line, and her porcelain skin pales as rage ignites under the surface. Her eyes start glowing intense amber as she growls her dislike at me and lowers her chin to move into an attack stance. Wolves are aggressive by nature, and we literally jump to fight for every little thing. Bite, nip, attack. It's just how we are.

“Why in the fuck has he let her in here?” Carmen loses her cool and steps at me fast, but Matteo zaps forward using his hyper-speed, blocking her in a nanosecond and standing between us. He stands firm, lifts his chin, and makes a good show of exerting his dominance.

“Colton wanted her here and will be along soon, so pipe down, go sit over there, and behave!” Matteo has a tone not too dissimilar to Colton’s Alpha tone, only less effective, and she draws her eyes from me to him, not as affected as she would be had their Alpha said it.

“Don’t tell me what to do... You're not my Alpha; hell, you're not even his Beta.” The undercurrent of a snarl between them sizzles, and I tense, waiting for it to get crazy in here. I'm surprised that Matteo is not his second-in-command, and I rake my memories to find out who is. I swear to God it better not be Carmen, or I'm in trouble.

“Ahora, ahora, que tenemos aqui?” Another female voice floats in—soft, light, and strangely alluring, with a deep, raspy undercurrent—as three more wolves stroll in unannounced. I recognize her as Meadow, one of the older femmes in her late twenties, mated to the one behind her, Cesar. Her brother is in tow, Jesus, and they stop to gaze over the little scene at hand.

“Ahora, ninas, go sit down before I break a claw reminding you who is Beta in this room when Colton is not here. Sit!” Her accent is heavy and thick; it’s clear she’s an incomer to Radstone and English is not her first language. It's not uncommon for wolves with links elsewhere to sometimes bring in family pack from further away to live with them or find a mate, and I know Meadow's been with us for a few years, maybe even as far back as the war. Her accent has never faded, though.

Matteo and Carmen give one last snarl and separate, walking to the couches, chastised and surprisingly not defying her. They're followed by the twins, who avert their eyes from their new member and instantly go into sulk mode, slumping together on one sofa and staring at me with lowered eyelids. No hint of warmth, which adds to my growing uneasiness as I sit stiffly where I was. Meadow strolls into the room fully, confidently, eyeing me up unashamedly, and I get the sensation I'm being weighed up as prey.

She's a sight to behold: at five-foot-eight, she is strong, graceful, and very Latino. Black hair, the most amazing pale blue eyes under sculpted black brows, and deeply tanned skin. She has full lips, catlike eyes with perfect makeup, and an outfit of clingy denim with a blouse that shows off her ample cleavage.

She's beautiful but has an aura of being terrifying. She doesn't stray out of the Santo side of the lands much, but it's obvious that Matteo is not Colton’s second-in-command. Meadow is. I wouldn't argue with her; her natural nails are long, sharp, and pointed, with a nice shellac of blood red, so I can't imagine what her wolf claws would be like. She puts the fear in me with just her presence.

“Hi. I'm Cesar, this is Jesus... and the infamous Meadow here.” Cesar nods at me, no hint of either dislike or friendliness in his blank statement. He's another tall, stocky type, and I'm starting to see a pattern with this pack. Best of the breed and all alarmingly alike, except Carmen, the only blonde among them. They're all big, strong, and have lashings of both aggression and attitude, common among our strongest. I'm sure as a pack they have many a battle of wills and lots of spats.

“She knows who we are, don't you, amiga? She has Cole's memories, and I'm sure she knows how to access them.” Meadow strolls in front of me, heels clicking on the hardwood floor; her eyes wander over me as she takes me all in without caring how uncomfortable it's making me. Devouring my appearance with a critical eye.

“I do,” I answer sheepishly, aware another has entered the open door and praying that has to be all of them. This is getting crowded, and I'm starting to feel like raw meat being lowered into a hungry lion's den. I don't even glance their way, as Meadow has a commanding quality that demands you give her your full attention.

“How, oh how, did the Fates get this so wrong?” Jesus sneers at me, appearing beside her. He is not too dissimilar in looks to his sister, only masculine where she is feminine, and he instantly shuts up when Meadow throws him a pointed glare with a subtle growl.

“The Fates are never wrong! Don't you know that?” She snaps before taking a calming breath, lifting her hands, and making motions in the air as though to accompany deep breaths. She smirks when she catches my eye and bends toward me, almost dropping her massive boobs from her low-cut top in my face. “I don't know. I sense something in this one. You think, Papi, she has a little summin' summin'?”

Cesar doesn't seem impressed—or not impressed, totally blank—and I can only assume he is who she calls "Papi." I know it's a name for your lover or mate. She reaches out, picking up a strand of my wild, unbrushed hair, and runs her fingers through it slowly, tingling my scalp as it tugs gently. It puts me on edge and makes me so uncomfortable I feel like calling on Colton, but I don't. I have to expect his pack is going to be like this at a first meeting. I mean, he just threw me in with them amid all that happened today, and they're sizing me up to see how much grit I have. I can't show them weakness, or they'll shred me.

“Is it true she came from the home for the rejects? The ones the vamps all slaughtered?” One of the twins can’t conceal his disgust. Carmen sneers, a look of anger crossing her face, and darts him a side-eye glare.

“Yes. And our formidable Alpha lowered his standards and tried to mark this mutt. He needs his head read.” Carmen is quick to chirp in with her dislike of me, seething hatred my way. The room feels like it's closing in as anxiety builds and my panic grows, and I wonder how long before I get cornered and chewed on.

“Ai...” It's a sharp sound given out to shut her up. Meadow stands to roll her own hair between two fingers and faces them with an air of “I'm getting so pissed.” “Don't disrespect our Alpha’s companera; I won't tolerate it, and neither will he. Don't make me mad, chica, I don't like when I get mad.”

Meadow is by far the scariest femme I have ever come across, and I don't know why she’s unnerving me so much, because she seems pretty sane on the surface. It's just, she has an aura that screams “certified psycho,” and every single time she moves, I flinch internally, getting antsier by the second as she stands so close to me.

Carmen recoils, obviously knowing only too well that Meadow doesn’t make empty threats, and Matteo clears his throat to distract her. He too seems like he knows he should diffuse things, and it only heightens my wariness. Some of the femmes in our pack-dom are worse than the mates in terms of volatile aggression and ability to maim, and I'm starting to think Meadow is one.

“Drinks, anyone? While we wait on him?” Matteo glances around for takers and gets a couple of quiet nods.

“No, nosotras have other plans for our little companera. She needs a little help over here.” Meadow clicks her tongue at me to catch my attention, and when I look up at her, she extends her finger and motions me to come. It's creepy and yet an order, and without question, I slide up in my chair, heartbeat elevating and wondering what the hell she plans on doing to me.

“You look like a bag lady who dresses out of the trash, novia. If that's what Colton has you looking like, you ain't gonna last long here. It's not a good look. Come, we have to fix this before I can sit and look at you for any length of time. You're offending my eyes... What he do to you? You look like you been working out on our man, huh? Maybe practicing getting marked, huh? Saying goodbye to your poppies and letting his seeds blow up your wind tunnel, heh?”

It's a dirty, raspy laugh following a dirty remark, and I flush with embarrassment at her brazen statement as I catch her meaning. Knowing I probably do look a little disheveled, I can almost taste Carmen's seething rage winding my way.