Rule of Claw: Wolves of Worsham #1 Page 2

  The passive aggressive words weren’t even worth a frown, though the reminder twelve years had passed since he’d seen his youngest siblings who were now adults twisted the knot in his stomach that wasn’t hunger. Also the reminder that he wasn’t the responsible type despite having grown up knowing his position as largely the spare should something happen to Charlie.

  “Is Riley home then?” he questioned with a glance toward the hall leading back to their childhood bedrooms. “I didn’t see her at Bordertown.”

  “No, she and Tyler had other plans.”

  She made no attempt to elaborate, and he doubted asking questions would lead anywhere useful so he let the conversation temporarily drop. It was just easier sometimes to let his mother believe she’d won than try to convince her to see someone else’s point of view.

  After a minute of silence, he remarked, “I noticed Bordertown is still running a full house. Is Alexis full-time help or a fill in when Charlie’s in a bind?”

  “She’s been there since she got back into town a couple years ago.” His mother’s nails tapped against the glass in front of her before she added, “I assume you noticed she’s no longer human? You can thank Tyler for that one.”

  Landon’s brows furrowed in question at those words since Tyler was the last person he’d have expected to be responsible for Alexis’ turning despite Charlie’s earlier comment. While Alexis had grown up with them, being Riley’s best friend for years prior to the unofficial adoption, Matthew had been determined they remained human which his parents had largely respected. He could only imagine how Matthew had taken the turn yet his mother seemed to sense the direction of his thoughts.

  “Aside from family dinners, lunches with Riley and Alexis or Charlie’s twins, and Bordertown with Charlie, Matthew doesn’t really have anything to do with the packs,” she volunteered as the microwave dinged. “He has a place of his own in town with rooms for Elliot and Eliana to stay over.”

  Opening the microwave, Landon slid his plate out and grabbed a fork then set it on the island. “What about Tyler?”

  His mother’s scowl said more than words. “He’s still around. You remember that old shed of your father’s?” She paused to wait for a nod then continued, “Tyler’s turned it into a combination of workshop and cabin so he mostly stays out there unless needed for pack business. He’s made a handful of things in the house that you’ll see if you actually stay around.”

  Again, he ignored the passive aggressive final words by shoving a bite of fried chicken into his mouth followed by mashed potatoes. It wouldn’t help to argue with his mother, but he didn’t think he was getting the full story about what happened with his brother and Alexis; however, experience said he wouldn’t be getting answers from her and Alexis hadn’t been forthcoming which meant a visit out to Tyler’s place tomorrow morning.

  “Also Jane died.”

  Landon’s fork fell from his hand at those casual words announcing the death of his sister-in-law. “What? Why didn’t Charlie mention it?”

  The look his mother sent reminded him again that she hadn’t changed, though the shrug infuriated him. “Probably didn’t figure you cared since you couldn’t be bothered to call or make it home for her funeral or any other family events,” she said with a careless shrug. “That’s been almost six years now. If you’d known, would you have come back, Landon?”

  He wanted to argue against her judgment except he doubted the others would have approved of him requesting leave for a family thing since the Chaos’ Sons viewed themselves as a brotherhood to the exclusion of all others. Still, he couldn’t help wondering why no one within his actual family had reached out when something as monumental as his sister-in-law dying happened. Then again, he hadn’t taken much of this life with him so why would they have thought he cared?

  “Maybe if I’d had the option,” he finally answered, focusing on the plate in front of him and debating if he wanted more details or would wait for a less hostile conversation partner. His stomach still grumbled with the home-cooked food, even microwave warmed, in front of him, but he had less and less appetite everytime she spoke. “Is this part of punishing me for leaving, throwing in my face that Jane died?”

  “No one’s punishing you,” she lied without missing a chance to roll her eyes. “But you can’t just walk back in the door and expect everything to be fine. A lot’s changed, Landon, and I imagine you’ve changed, too.”

  He had no argument against that accusation because the world of the Chaos’ Sons was completely different from Worsham. Whereas Landon had grown up surrounded by other wolves and largely aware humans, he’d met a multitude of other creatures in recent years, though the population of Anberlin was the most diverse to include witches and vampires. Only a few weeks had been spent there yet those events would haunt him for the rest of his days and had been the catalyst to send him home to this confrontation.

  While a member of the Chaos’ Sons motorcycle club, he’d also seen vastly more bloodshed and death than growing up, but that could be explained by being barely nineteen when he’d taken off compared to spending the majority of his adult life among bikers. Then again, he’d seen more bloodshed in that last week as a Son than all of the last year so perhaps it wasn’t the best comparison or route to take if he didn’t want to depress himself.

  “Is anyone going to be happy to see me?” The tone of his question made Landon cringe before he followed up with, “Even Eliana questioned if I still had uncle privileges.”

  His mother gave a shrug and dumped her glass into the sink then began putting away the containers. “Maybe Riley? If you think this is bad, wait until you go to the tribunal tomorrow and have to convince the packs to let you stay,” she said, flashing a smile that felt predatory. “At least two packs have to endorse you staying, and you burned a lot of bridges when you left, Landon.”

  A lead weight settled in his stomach before he questioned, “Any leadership changes since I left? I mean, I know Charlie’s probably replaced Dad full-time by now, but anything else different?”

  The moment of silence stretched then his mother said, “You should know that Imogene has moved into the alpha position alongside Micah so I hope you’re ready to face her tomorrow, too.”

  Imogene.

  The name brought up immediate memories of warm, laughing hazel eyes and messy brown curls he’d sunk his fingers into countless times to pull her close enough to kiss. His brain immediately conjured an image of Imogene the last time he’d seen her, beautiful and kind and his. They’d fallen sleep together under the stars, her head pillowed on his chest, less than twenty-four hours before he’d made his escape from Worsham, leaving her behind, though that memory brought the guilt rushing in full force to drive away the pleasantness.

  He wanted to ask about her, if she still worked at the library, if she actually enjoyed being an alpha, if she’d gotten married and started a family, but his mother interrupted his thought with an order of, “Finish eating. You need to be well rested tomorrow if you plan to convince anyone your return is the real deal.”

  Chapter Three

  A multitude of message alert chirps woke Imogene from a deep sleep, though it took three grabs to drag her phone onto the bed with her. The covers were pushed back before she rolled onto her back and picked up the phone. Her fingers traced an awkward G over the dots then it unlocked, showing her several messages from pack members and even Steven who’d practically raised her alongside his partner, Micah, following the death of her parents.

  Skimming the message, she jerked up as a single word in all the texts caught her attention. Several rapid blinks were made to clear her vision except the name still popped out like a neon light among the rest of the words.

  Landon.

  Her glasses were retrieved and slid on since it was too early for contacts as she swept the first alert to the side then looked over the messages. Only Steven’s made her stop before sending back a quick message with far more question marks than the older wolf woul
d appreciate.

  Steven and his partner, Micah, had adopted her shortly after her fourteenth birthday when a run-in with a rogue werewolf on a camping trip had killed her parents and left her bitten and scared. They’d been by her side through the turning process, learning what it meant to be a wolf, and coming of age as more of an outsider than most who’d been born wolves. In return, she’d become the child they’d never expected and was frequently told she’d completed a puzzle no one realized was missing a piece which made her love them all the more.

  Now wide awake, Imogene tossed the covers fully aside and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She performed a quick stretch before leaving her bedroom to head into the small kitchen; however, she’d barely gotten the single serving coffee pod started when her phone rang with Steven’s name visible.

  “You’ve seen him?” she questioned without a proper greeting. “Like, with your own eyes and can 100% guarantee it’s not just a look alike?”

  Steven’s laugh met her words. “I didn’t, but Austin plus several others saw him at Bordertown last night and Melanie called this morning about needing an emergency tribunal without any of the usual lead-up,” he explained then paused. “Are you going to be okay to do the tribunal?”

  “I thought direct family members of the alphas didn’t have to submit to a tribunal? At least that’s what I thought Micah said.” She tried to sound nonchalant about ignoring his question while she opened the fridge, pushing aside a handful of items in search of eggs. Shredded cheese and salsa followed. “Elias didn’t need one.”

  “They do when it’s been over ten years since they were pack,” Steven reminded her. “Only person likely to have a major problem with Landon’s return to the pack is Scott, and we all know his bigger issue is too many Miller heirs.”

  Imogene’s eyes rolled, but she kept her mouth shut at the mention of the third, and least popular, pack’s alpha. While the Miller pack had never objected to a group of misfit turneds and outcast wolves headed by a pair of purebreds, Scott Langford had made it clear for decades that he felt the Durand wolves were inferior. He’d also been against the tribunal’s formation and letting Melanie remain head of the Millers after her husband’s death only to have gotten a quick refresher in how the Millers had held their position for so long which made him drop it.

  “Micah knows it’s your day off, but he wants you with him,” Steven was saying as she broke several eggs into a bowl. “I know you and Landon have a history, but . . .”

  “I’m an adult, Steven, and it was a stupid, childhood wish fulfillment of a relationship.” The words felt hollow, but she kept repeating them in her head to make them stronger.

  A sprinkle of cheese and several shakes of pepper went into the bowl as she added, “Besides, what’s the worst that happens with Landon’s return? Letty said Charlie punched him in the face so I can’t imagine this will strengthen their family ties.”

  Steven remained silent for a minute then complained, “Letty’s a gossip. Is that a yes to meeting Micah for the tribunal later?”

  “Yes, text me the time, and I will meet him,” she promised then spent another minute on small talk before trading I love yous and hanging up. She sprayed the pan to prevent sticking then dumped the eggs concoction into it and began to scramble the contents.

  Despite her flippant words to Steven, she couldn’t help the small flutter in her chest at the thought of seeing Landon again. Maybe the life of a nomad had aged him prematurely, and he’d be hideous, stooped over, or maybe he’d have gained the muscle missing when they were growing up. The thought immediately annoyed her because he hadn’t bothered saying a word to her in twelve years so why did she even care?

  Putting her frustration into the eggs, she whipped them into an edible state then popped two pieces of toast in the toaster. “I don’t care,” she announced to the empty kitchen as she poured cream into her mug then added a fork to her plate with the eggs. “I’m going to do the stupid tribunal then that’ll just be the end of my need to bother with Landon Miller.”

  * * *

  In contrast to her earlier nonchalance, Imogene found an unwelcome anxiety crawling beneath her skin as she trekked through the woods to the amphitheater for tribunal. It had been built by the original pack leaders when they’d settled into the area, serving as neutral ground for any pack or tribunal business. Rows upon rows of wooden benches were set back from the large stage carved with the records of their packs for the last fifty years or more. Only tribunal members and those facing judgment were allowed on the stage with everyone one else sitting out in the audience as witnesses.

  Her gaze swept around the clearing that contained the amphitheater, though she told herself it was just to find other pack members. A familiar hand raised above a bouncy, black ponytail caught her attention so she had an excuse not to look closer at the members of the Miller pack lingering in their section on the left. However, she’d already determined neither Landon nor any of the biological Millers were among them which she hated almost as much as the nervous hum below her skin.

  “Aren’t you normally late to these things?” she questioned as she stepped up to Letty’s side. An arm wrapped around her shoulders so Imogene encircled the other wolf’s waist. “And by late I mean, you show up when things are over.”

  Letty gave a laugh and squeezed her shoulders. “Maybe I’m just eager to see your Landon in the flesh to see if all the hype was worth it.”

  Color flushed her cheeks at her friend’s teasing words, but she still ordered, “Shut up. You know the rules of Tequila Tuesday.”

  Instead of silencing her friend, Letty laughed harder and earned an elbow in the ribs yet she couldn’t be too mad at her best friend. It was a rare person not raised in the pack who knew how completely Landon Miller had ripped her heart out when he left years ago. Thankfully, Letty had been the creator of the rules for tequila Tuesday, including withholding her homemade tamales from anyone who broke them, which said she was twice as dedicated to obeying them even if she still liked to tease. Only a few others attended, though not with the weekly regularity the two of them had established over the last three years.

  “And wait, I thought you saw him get punched?” she questioned, remembering the texts.

  “No, I said he got punched, but I heard it from Alice who was at Bordertown with Eliana Miller,” Letty explained. “Is that always how Millers greet each other?”

  Imogene hesitated. “It’s complicated with them.”

  For a brief moment, she thought of all those old conversations with Landon in this very amphitheater or deeper in the woods about how he felt in his role as spare to Charlie’s as heir. He’d always had an admiration for his older brother, but also a part of him that had wanted to prove himself capable of more than just second best; however, she couldn’t voice those secrets to Letty, especially since he’d given up any claim to the succession line when he’d taken off with a motorcycle club. Would that change now that he’d made his return?

  An elbow dug into her ribs so she turned toward the arrival of a quartet of tanned, blonde-haired wolves making their way down the center of the aisle. Scott Langford was well over the six-foot mark and kept his hair military short despite his full beard while his wife, Constance, stood a good half foot shorter with her hair pulled back into a severe bun that looked painful even from a distance.

  Their adult sons, Paul and Elias, followed in their wake and looked like younger, stockier versions of Scott, though Elias remained clean-shaven to Paul’s beard and mustache. Only when they had sat on the center bench and Scott stepped onto the stage with Constance did the non-family Langford wolves begin finding their own seats while everyone else resumed their conversation.

  “You think they practice that in the mirror at home?” Letty’s whisper earned a snort before she headed off to find her seat while Imogene made her way toward the stage.

  Just before she reached the stage, Micah made his appearance, touching a hand to her back. “Do I want to kno
w why Letty’s actually on time?” he questioned, a smile present in his words.

  Turning toward the dark skinned, older man who’d been Steven’s partner of nearly twenty years and one of her favorite parents, she smiled and whispered back, “Probably not, but at least she’s here.”

  His agreeing nod met her words as he offered her a hand up onto the stage then climbed up himself, leading her toward their chairs. Two remained empty for the Miller representatives, but they still had a few minutes before the tribunal was meant to start plus it would irk Scott and Constance to be kept waiting.

  As if the thought had conjured her, Melanie Miller made her appearance at the top of the amphitheater flanked by Charlie and Tyler. Charlie’s short, dark hair was a complete contrast to the sun-streaked bun Tyler wore, though there was no missing the sibling resemblance. Charlie’s twins and Alexis’ platinum blonde head came next yet it was the man pulling up the rear of the small group that caught Imogene’s eyes.

  For a brief, stupid minute, she felt her breath catch in her chest. Whatever thoughts she’d been harboring that a life on the road had aged Landon for the worst went out the window as she inspected the tousled nature of his auburn hair plus the scruffy beard and mustache combo that had replaced his clean-shaven look of their youth. His nose bent at a slight angle as if it had been broken and improperly set yet what really caught her were the familiar moss shaded eyes set within a slightly tanned face that had haunted her dreams for years after he left. Except weariness reflected in them now, a sense that he’d aged, and she found herself tempted to go to him, to sooth away the weariness.

  Her eyes skimmed over the thick muscles of his biceps beneath his t-shirt sleeves with the smallest hint of black ink peeking out the bottom, and the way he filled out a pair of faded jeans. He’d come a long way from the scrawny boy of her youth, and she couldn’t complain about the changes even as she rejected the familiar feelings stirring in her.