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  "Thirty minutes,” Stephan said, tapping his watch. “You two go shopping for shoes. Couldn't you guys find a cheaper way to bond?"

  Aiyana slung her bag at him. “Mind your own business! At least I'm not spending your money."

  "Careful, Matt. Aiyana's already a bad influence on your wife."

  Aiyana slung the bag at him again. We laughed. He snaked his arms around her and delivered a smacking kiss on the cheek. Matt did the same to me.

  I guess I wasn't the only one influenced.

  Chapter 7

  Saying goodbye to our ... acquaintances tugged at my heart. Never in my life had I felt that way about any werewolf. Matt was different because he was my husband. To have developed these feelings for complete strangers startled me. Something must have happened to them, too, because it was all hugs and hand kisses before we parted ways.

  Matt filled me in on the way home. The pack's intentions were exactly as Aiyana stated. In their eyes, we were a normal couple who chose to live a solitary life. Thus, they treated us with patience and graciousness. Had we come across as carrying eager, overbearing attitudes, the pack would have raided our home as soon as they got the tip. Given the type of tip-off they received, their Alpha needed to know if we were going to be a threat to their way of life. They worked too hard in setting up their spa business and trying to pass for human.

  To my surprise, Stephan didn't blame Matt for packing his bags and leaving the Boston Pack when Parry gave him the ultimatum. However, leaving on those terms presented a problem in pack loyalty. It could have been a test to see if Matt would put his pack's interests first. By saying good-bye to me, Matt would have passed his leader's test. Whether Parry meant it or not was another story. The problem existed in the way Parry administered the test. By throwing racial slurs into it, he convoluted the results. Had Parry raised questions about my human upbringing, then his concerns for my human mindset endangering the pack would have been valid. Slinging outright discriminatory remarks and calling me a “malignant leech” proved a lack of intelligence on Parry's part. That justified Matt's decision for leaving.

  Matt turned off the main highway, two exits away from our house. He continued chattering away as though nothing had happened.

  "Where are we going?” I asked, watching the scenery passing us by.

  "The grocery store,” he said, keeping his beaming eyes on the road. “We need to pick up a few things."

  "Don't tell me you're hungry. We just had lunch."

  "No, I invited Stephan and Aiyana over for dinner tomorrow night while you guys were out running up my credit card bill buying shoes."

  Smirking, I smacked him on the arm. “You ragweed. Aiyana didn't run up your credit card. As your wife, I took it as my sole responsibility."

  Matt glimpsed at me, returning the smirk. “At least you're honest. I'll be more than happy to dish out punishment in the bedroom later."

  I gushed at the idea.

  "Anyway,” he said, “inviting them to dinner is a show of goodwill. It'll help loosen up tensions a little more."

  "I thought they were already loose."

  "They are.” Matt approached the signal and stopped. “It's customary to invite pack members into your territory. Granted, we rent the house, so technically it's not ours. But still, offering a place at our table says a lot about our trust."

  The light changed, so Matt continued driving.

  "Dinner sounds like a good idea. It'll be nice having different people around for a change.” I took my shoes off and propped my feet on the dashboard.

  "Say it,” Matt said.

  "Say what?"

  "Whatever else you're thinking. I know you've got those Ferris wheel-sized gears turning around in your head."

  I wasn't thinking anything in particular. But now that he mentioned it ... “It'll be cool to see different faces at the dinner table. But I never thought it would be a pack. This is all so ... new to me."

  A huge smile gleamed across Matt's face, dimples digging into his cheeks. My husband was glowing.

  Unbelievable.

  Sure, he wanted to do a good job with the court case so that we could have permission to stay. But something about that spark in his eyes said he had other thoughts sifting through his head. Whatever he and Stephan had talked about, it certainly left him in high spirits. For both our sakes, I prayed it would last.

  * * * *

  As we were loading the bags into the SUV, four small beef roasts caught my eye. By the time we got to the checkout, our buggy was half-filled with things for tomorrow night and extras we had picked up. Thank goodness we had a deep freezer. Still, we'd never buy four beef roasts for the two of us because of my human appetite.

  "Are you nervous about dinner tomorrow?” I asked, making room for more plastic bags in the back.

  Matt lifted two more from the buggy and put them on the other side. “Not really. Are you?"

  "Do you realize that this is the first time in our marriage that we're dining with ... your people?” Crap. I hated the way that came out. Too much racial overtone.

  Matt stopped in mid-motion and smiled. “They're our people, Lex. Stephan made it clear that the pack considers you one of us."

  "Uh-huh.” I rolled my eyes and continued stacking the bags. “I mean I think they're cool and all. But the last time I met some of your people, your Alpha had the pleasure of giving me a verbal bitch-slap."

  Matt stopped and stared while his lips juggled a smile. He put his bags in the trunk and took my hand. “These people are not my pack. My loyalties aren't divided when it comes down to choosing you over them.” He locked his eyes with mine and kissed the back of my hand. “This is a perfect way to establish good relations. Don't forget ... we want to call Atlanta our home. So don't worry about saying the right things or doing something wrong. Our house is still our safe haven."

  "In other words, I should feel comfortable in my own home.” There go those wheels turning inside my head again.

  "Exactly."

  "Then why can't I wear a pair of shorts and a T-shirt?"

  "Okay, you know what? Let's pretend I am bringing home the boss over for dinner."

  "But you just said—"

  "I know what I said, but now you're getting ridiculous.” He dropped my hand and packed in the last grocery bag.

  "So you're nervous?"

  "Am not."

  "Then why can't I wear a T-shirt?"

  Matt signed and leaned on the opened rear door. “If you put on a T-shirt, I'm going naked."

  "Really?” Some serious thoughts about that passed through my mind.

  Chuckling, he said, “You win. I'm a little nervous. I've never had contact with what looks like a healthy pack. So yeah, I'm a little wary."

  "Are you looking for a pack?"

  "Not really. No matter how healthy this pack is, I wouldn't join unless they welcomed you too. You're a part of me. If I can't be loyal to my own mate, then there's no way in hell I can be loyal to a pack.” He closed the door and locked it. “So how does joining a pack sound to you?"

  I sighed. “What does it matter? Besides, we're probably jumping the gun. We'll be lucky to keep our little spot of land."

  "Then let's see how tomorrow goes first."

  I avoided Matt's question. Either he knew that and didn't want to say anything or he didn't care. To be honest, I wasn't too sure about the whole pack-life thing. The thought of opening up my home to people we hardly knew bothered me. The life of a sniper was a lonely one and for good reason. We couldn't afford to have people trespassing into our lives. That's what the Georgia Pack was about to do.

  Chapter 8

  Matt spent most of the day in the kitchen preparing dinner. Though he made it clear that the dinner party had everything to do with forging a friendship and nothing to do with joining a pack, I knew he wanted everything to go smooth. Those damn shrimp spring rolls and crab cakes made from scratch said as much. Had it been left up to me, I would have thrown some steaks on the grill
and kicked back on the couch.

  Six o'clock arrived and so did our guests. Matt remained sequestered in the kitchen while I answered the door. Stephan wore jeans and a button-front light blue shirt hanging over the waistband. Aiyana wore jeans with a white, ribbed turtleneck.

  Handing me a bottle of red wine, Stephan greeted me with a kiss on the cheek, his overgrown hairs tickling my face. Aiyana eased between us to give me a hug. Before I could think my nose turned into her long, black mane and whiffed her scent. It happened so fast that I didn't have time to think about it. Smooth as silk, I kept going as though nothing happened. Our guests didn't act like I did anything wrong, so why should I?

  After taking their jackets and the wine, I showed them to the living room and requested they make themselves at home. Literally. It felt so natural having them in our home that I forgot to offer them anything. Whenever my family came to visit, they knew enough to help themselves without thinking twice. Matt leapt to my rescue by offering drinks from the kitchen. By the time I returned with glasses in tow, our guests had pulled out several DVDs from our collection and asked if we could watch them later.

  Sipping my lemonade, I relaxed on our brown, leather recliner. Stephan and Aiyana sat on the matching leather couch, facing the entertainment center. Her shoes were off; one leg folded underneath her thigh and the other swinging back and forth, toes brushing the light beige carpet. She leaned into Stephan's side. He also had his shoes off and ankles crossed with an arm around her shoulders.

  Stephan sipped his sweet tea while asking me how much I knew about their society. Talk about twenty questions. I couldn't help smirking. However, the amount of pride I had for my wonderful husband kept my rebelliousness from going beyond the look on my face. Whatever they wanted to know, I told them, keeping my information general and to the point unless they asked for more. Anyone can know the rules and regulations behind their world, but my intrinsic understanding intrigued our guests even more.

  "The full moon,” Stephan said, about to sip his iced tea again. “What about it?"

  "Well,” I responded, “during the Stone Age, the full moon governed werewolves’ cycles because they weren't mentally developed enough to control their temperament. But like humans, werewolves have evolved. At least, that's what I've heard. Anyway, you experience a little excitement like drinking two cups of coffee, but not enough to force a change."

  "And silver?” Aiyana asked, sly smile splaying her face.

  "All hype,” I replied. “Metal is metal when it comes down to using it as a weapon, otherwise the planet would've been overrun with our kind by now. Put the slug in the right place, and you die regardless of the metallurgic properties.” Okay, based on their uneasy looks, maybe I should have left my blasé, cold-blooded tone out of it. I nervously squeezed my folded fingers to knuckle whiteness. “Anyone for a refill?"

  Stephan hesitated before going into a chuckle. “Matt's prepared you well. At least you know the facts and not just the folklore. But hybrids are an even bigger mystery. Most werewolves are so genetically conscious that they would kill anyone who harbored a half-and-half child."

  "Now I know why our numbers are even more obscure than werewolves. Even our family tried to hide from my grandfather."

  "But things are different now,” Aiyana said, resting her hand on Stephan's thigh. “You've got a werewolf husband who'll most likely die to protect you. That's going to make him think twice about coming back."

  "Maybe. But I wouldn't put anything passed the murderous SOB."

  "Enough of the grim talk.” Stephan sipped his tea again before placing it on the end table beside him. “All in all, if Matt was going to fall in love with a human, I'm glad it was you and not someone who would bolt at the first sign of trouble."

  My werewolf side kept Matt grounded, lessening his need for bonding with a pack. Being part human, I could only fulfill some of his werewolf needs. A pack could take care of the rest. Take changing for example. It was an act of intimacy my husband and I would never share. Granted, we ran together, but asking me to hunt with him was like asking a child to cook a gourmet meal with all the trimmings. I hunted with a weapon, a style Matt would never accept. In that one sense alone, we lived in different worlds.

  When dinner was ready, I made Matt take a seat at the head of his table while I went into the kitchen and prepared the dishes. Aiyana helped, though I reminded her of her guest status in our home. I guess sitting at a table discussing the upcoming court case didn't interest her, not that it would have interested me either. In a few trips, we carried out a salad, a bowl of wild rice, a basket of rolls, mixed vegetables, and the main pot roast dish. It didn't seem like much until you took into account the serving sizes. Boisterous conversation broke out immediately with all the praises going to my husband.

  Stephan looked at Matt while swirling a glass of burgundy wine. “There's something else we'd like to run pass you before the hearing tomorrow afternoon. You think you can make it to our office by nine?"

  "Does that mean we're in your good graces?” I asked, beating Matt to a response. He glared at me. “Why are you looking at me like that? I just thought I should ask before having dessert ... and other stuff.” Something else came to mind, but I could see it becoming misconstrued as being rude.

  The corners of Stephan's mouth curled into a smirk. While holding his glass of wine, he pointed his index finger at me and said, “Your candidness is refreshing. It adds spark to your personality."

  "Really? Some people say I speak my mind to the point of no return, but I'm nothing like my sister or my mother. They're like a knife twisting in someone's back.” I licked my tongue at Matt.

  Laughter dribbled out of Stephan's mouth along with splatters of wine he hadn't finished swallowing. A few burgundy colored splotches trailed down the front of his light blue shirt. He took his napkin and dabbed at the spots. What a slob. Puckering my laughter, I looked away.

  "I wouldn't say you're to that point yet,” Stephan mumbled. “Otherwise you would have ended with something more blatant than ‘other stuff.’”

  "So you're not mad at me about messing up pack protocols?"

  "No. You already know what's acceptable and what isn't. If I had never told you my real rank in the hierarchy, then you guys would have been walking on eggshells around us. Being yourself is better because we know exactly what to expect."

  "Then answer my question.” Teasing, I shot him a sly look of my own. “Do you like us?"

  He stopped dabbing at the stains and sighed. “Yes. I like both of you very much. For a person who relies solely on her husband's teachings and him not having access to a pack for so long, the two of you have done quite well for yourselves. It shows you're respectful, intelligent, resourceful, and fiercely dedicated to each other. Those kinds of qualities only exist in a healthy pack. Parry lost a strong mated pair when he let the two of you go. He's a jackass if I ever saw one."

  I scraped my chair backwards on the carpeted floor and approached him. “In that case, you need to give me that shirt before the wine sets in.” I held my hand out, waiting for his response.

  "What about dessert?” His sparkling green eyes teased me back.

  "You'll get an extra helping. The shirt is a bonus."

  Stephan's smile grew to an ear to ear grin as he plucked the buttons free. Inch by precious inch, the material peeled back, exposing perfectly smooth skin. Not a hair or a blemish in sight, not that it would have mattered. Saliva flooded my mouth, forcing me to swallow.

  Giggling brought my brain back to reality. Matt sat holding his forehead in a pose of humiliation, laughing and twisting it from side to side. Aiyana sat across from Stephan, unable to eat as she chortled behind her napkin.

  Smooth fabric touched my hand, forcing my attention back to Stephan. Move, legs, move. Don't look at his ... too late. His wonderfully shaped physique, bare chest and all, ensnared me. Toned muscles, similar to Matt's, rippled across his hairless upper chest, tantalizing me. Yeah, he was handsome
, to say the least.

  Here I was, gawking over a stranger's body in the presence of my husband. What was my world coming to? I couldn't—no, forget that—I wouldn't look at Matt. Words like ‘adulteress’ and ‘slut’ bounced around my brain. Matt never called me that, so why give him a reason to start?

  Clenching the shirt to wrinkles, I flew down the hallway towards the laundry room. A few seconds later, Matt swooped up from behind me, burying his face into the back of my neck. Tiny nibbles and kisses adorned my skin, sending spasms to my knees and deepening my breaths. Matt had nipped his way into one of my erogenous zones.

  "You keep that up and we'll have to send our guests home early,” I said, fumbling the stain remover.

  "I love you so much,” he said, steaming up my neck. “They won't care if we disappear for a little while.” His hands slipped under my shirt, kneading my breasts. Warm lips sucked the other side of my neck.

  "Oh boy.” Licking my lips and closing my eyes, I started again. “Um ... we ... can't..."

  "They can smell sex on us anyway.” His hands came down, pressing my groin backwards so that my backside could rub the hard bulge in his pants. “Guess what's for dessert?"

  My breathing deepened as Matt fondled the buckle on my pants. Whatever worries I had, they began slipping away the moment he popped the button on my pants. Slowly, he slipped his hand in my panties, finger burrowing past my pubic area and snuggling between my folds.

  Good, lord, was it hot in here!

  A gulp stifled any more words of dissent. His other hand moved towards my right breast, massaging the nipple to pebble hardness.

  We couldn't do this here. Not this. Not with guests in the other room. But if we could make it upstairs, perhaps our guests could wait a few more minutes—

  A throat cleared behind us.

  We froze in shock. Matt got caught with his hands in my cookie jar. We regrouped by retracting our various appendages, zipping up my pants, and straightening out our shirts before saying anything. So much for first impressions.