Hungry Like a Wolf

Three

Damn him and the horse he rode in on.

Honor lay in her father’s huge sleigh bed and stared at the ceiling in frustration. The clock on the bedside table gave off an eerie green glow announcing three A.M. and Honor’s fifth unsuccessful hour of attempted sleep. She blamed it all on her unexpected visitor from Manhattan.

Next, she planned to blame the instability in the Middle East on him as well.

She really could kill him for … well, for nothing that was actually his fault. But far be it from her to buck the long-standing and honorable tradition of killing the messenger. In reality, her father was the one to blame, but he was inconveniently dead, and therefore a much less satisfying target than the arrogant, sexy beta from the Silverback Clan.

Sexy?

Shit.

Honor groaned and rolled onto her side. The second to last thing she needed in her life was to develop a mad crush on any man, let alone the beta of another pack sent to evaluate her leadership capabilities in the first week of her rule. Because no matter how politely Logan Hunter had phrased it, that was exactly why he’d come to this remote corner of northwestern Connecticut to mingle with the White Paw Clan.

He’d come to grade her like a teacher on report card day, and Honor didn’t like it one bit. She didn’t like it because no alpha’s earned position in a pack should ever be called into question, especially not in any way so transparent to subordinate pack members. She doubly didn’t like it because she really wasn’t all that confident she would be given a passing grade.

She didn’t doubt her ability to lead the pack, to make decisions that would benefit them as a whole and help ease them into the twenty-first century in a way her father had never been willing to attempt. She didn’t doubt her ability to hold her own among the international council of packs, where decisions affecting Lupine society as a whole were discussed and debated and voted upon once every five years. Honor didn’t even doubt her ability to win any alpha challenge that presented itself to her. Lord knew she’d won three since the moment her father had drawn his last breath, and she knew in that sick place in her gut that’d she’d face even more; but she also knew the wolves in her pack. She knew their strengths and weaknesses, and unless a new, stronger wolf tried to come in from outside the pack, she didn’t fear for her position. No, Honor didn’t doubt for a second that she had the ability to become as confident and capable an alpha as the White Paw Clan had ever seen.

What she doubted was her desire.

“I was happier being beta.”

She whispered the words to the ceiling and heard the truth of them ringing all the way down into her soul. It felt like a sin to speak them, but the good kind of sin; one of the ones involving lust and gluttony and sloth, like staying in bed on a Sunday morning to make love and sleep and nibble on decadent pieces of dark, rich chocolate. Possibly all at the same damned time. She knew that if any of her pack could hear her words, they’d assume she’d lost her mind. Hell, if any nonsubmissive wolf in the whole damned world could hear, they’d think the same damned thing. Dominant wolves always wanted to lead. Period. The end. Happily ever after, and all those old clichés.

So, maybe Honor wasn’t so dominant after all?

She thought about that, mulled it over, tested out the taste and feel of it while the sounds of weighted tree branches settling and night critters scurrying drifted in through her open window.

It was a more complicated question than it seemed, but then, among Lupines, dominance was a complicated issue. No matter what their furry instincts might tell them at times, Lupines were not wolves. Not entirely. They could take the shape of wolves, they shared some physical, some psychological, and even some emotional characteristics with wolves, but they had their human sides, too. They might have the instincts to rip out the throats of any people who angered them, but they had the ability to reason through why that might not be a good idea. They might understand that one of the best ways to get to know someone was to take a good whiff of their scent, but they still knew better than to greet newcomers by sticking their noses into other people’s crotches.

Like wolves, but not wolves; like humans, but not humans.

Among wolves, packs really amounted to little more than families, and in those families, the oldest—and therefore most often the strongest—male led the way. It was, if not simple, then at least a fairly straightforward and logical method of organization among animals, but when you factored in the human side of a Lupine’s nature, any thoughts of logic and straightforwardness flew right out the nearest window.

Lupine packs were definitely not family groups. They contained families, but because of their integration into wider human society, they needed to become more than that. Instead, wolf shapeshifters grouped in territorial packs, with all of the Lupines in a designated geographical area falling under the authority of the alpha of that area. In the beginning, it had probably started as a security measure, allowing all the Lupines in a community to keep an eye on each other and protect each other against threats from hunters, witch hunters, werewolf hunters, and the like. Over the centuries, it had become a political measure, maintained in order to keep the peace among groups of Lupines with no relationship to each other, to temper their natural instincts to get to the top of the food chain. Lupine alphas spent less time making sure everyone in the pack was fed and more time making sure they didn’t eat each other, to be blunt, something that required managing not only wolfish instincts, but human egos, emotions, and psychodramas. Frankly, Honor would rather lead an actual wolf pack any day of the week. At least wolves didn’t lie to each other.

Honor rolled onto her side and punched her pillow into shape, ignoring the twinge in her aching knuckles. With her Lupine metabolism, such a small discomfort would be gone by morning, but it was the only one of her problems that would be. When the sun rose, she might feel physically better, but she’d still be the reluctant alpha of an endangered pack, with a meddlesome stranger breathing down her neck and half of her childhood friends gunning for her blood. Her only real choice was what to do about it.

If she honestly didn’t want to be alpha, should she just step down? Just give her place to Paul or Darin or one of the other males who hadn’t hesitated to tell her that a female would never be fit to rule them? Honor’s very soul rebelled at the idea. First, because she’d be damned if she’d let any male tell her what a female was or wasn’t capable of doing. An alpha might need strength to lead a pack, but she also needed intelligence, cunning, an open mind, and an eye on the future. Testicles, as far as she could tell, counted as entirely optional.

Secondly, she truly did believe she would make a better alpha than any of them ever could. Her father had raised her to be just that. He had taught her not only about the pack and how its members related to each other, but also about the business that kept it financially afloat. She’d learned to do all that at her father’s side; no one else had that training or that experience.

Honor’s personal relationship with her father had been rocky and even tumultuous at times, but their working relationship had functioned as if it had been designed by a Swiss watchmaker. Ethan Tate had given the orders, and Honor had seen them fulfilled. She had guarded his back, his pack, and his privacy, and she’d done a damned good job of it, too. She had helped keep the White Paw Clan running smoothly and fluidly, but she’d still had time for her own pursuits. She had been on call twenty-four hours, true, but in a well-managed pack, those calls had come rarely.

Over the years, Honor had taken up kayaking and snorkeling. She had studied Native-American and Lupine mythology and taught herself how to throw pots. She had earned a degree in business administration with a minor in environmental management and spent most of her spare time in the studio, spinning her wheel and stoking the fires in the brick kiln she had built with her own hands. In other words, before her father had died, Honor had been a normal woman with a life of her own. Now she began to understand that as alpha, the pack would become her life.

She didn’t want that. Her sense of duty to the pack ran just as deep as any Lupine’s, but the need to serve it did not consume her. She had the willingness to give, but not the willingness to give up that which the position of alpha required.

Why then was she fighting to stay alpha of the White Paw Clan?

Good question, and one she had begun asking herself almost hourly.

Gods knew it wasn’t for the glory of it. Honor snorted at the thought. There was very little glory these days in being alpha of any clan, and even less in one of the small, subordinate clans like this one. Being the Silverback alpha might float Graham Winters’s boat, but the Silverback was the overpack to the entire Northeast. All the packs from Maine to D.C. said their pleases and thank-yous to the Silverback. The White Paw Clan had less than a hundred and fifty members, and that generous estimate included the pups and the elders. There wasn’t a whole hell of a lot of glory to be found in “ruling” a group the size of the local high school’s graduating class when most of them could run their own lives just fine without any interference from her.

To be honest, the only answer that had come to her had been that she wanted to lead the clan by default. Hardly a rousing answer, but a truthful one. It wasn’t that Honor wanted to lead the pack; it was that she didn’t want anyone else to do it.

She didn’t think it was a power trip. After all, given the lack of glory, one could rightly assume that the power of the position didn’t exactly shake the earth. So, not a dog-in-the-manger routine. She just honestly didn’t see how any member of the pack could make a decent White Paw alpha.

It hurt her to think it, actually. She hated thinking so badly of her family and friends, the group of people she’d grown up with, that she knew and loved. Or at least tolerated out of a sense of familial loyalty. She wanted to believe every one of those people had the strength and intelligence and fortitude to lead the pack into prosperity, but the sad truth told her none of them did.

If there was anyone, it might have been Paul. Paul was smart. At least, she’d always thought so, before he decided to challenge her earlier that afternoon. He had a good head on his shoulders, and a sense of humor that had seen him out of more than one scrape in his life. But he also had a temper that could get out of hand if he wasn’t careful, and for all his considerable intelligence, the man couldn’t devise a long-term strategy if it came with illustrated instructions. He could barely manage to plan what his next meal would be, and often didn’t even bother with that. The pack just couldn’t afford that sort of leader. This was a critical time for them, and if they didn’t have an alpha who could lead the pack in a new direction, Honor felt certain they would stagnate themselves into extinction.

Stagnation wouldn’t be the way they got to extinction under Darin Major, the other most vocal of Honor’s detractors. Darin would herd the pack toward oblivion while running behind them with a whip just to keep them moving. The man was arrogant, chauvinistic, cruel, selfish, and no more intelligent than your average dung beetle. With him, leading the pack was all about setting himself up as king of his own little universe. He wanted the power and the glory, and he could care less about what it cost the pack. The only place he would lead the White Paw was straight to hell.

The pack needed a leader with vision. Someone who could see the future and lead them to it. And failing that, they needed someone who would at least keep them from regressing into the past or standing stock-still as the world progressed around them. Honor didn’t delude herself into thinking she knew best for every member of the clan, or even that she knew best for the clan as a whole, but she thought she had a good idea of what would be worst.

The pack desperately needed to move forward. They needed to learn how to survive in an increasingly urban world. Their little compound in the forests of Connecticut provided them with a momentary oasis, but every day, developers moved a little bit closer to their retreat, and every day, they got one step closer to the sprawling metropolis of Manhattan, less than a hundred and fifty miles to the south. If the White Paw didn’t learn how to function in the society of the modern human city, they could kiss their lives and their sanity good-bye. Progress would not be stopping for them.

Honor wanted to see her pack move from a culture of reclusion to one of integration. She wanted pack members to become computer geeks and businesswomen and police officers and engineers. And if the pack continued to wallow in its stagnation, none of those things would ever happen. The world wouldn’t just pass them by; it would bulldoze over them and plow them under.

Now if only she could manage to convince the rest of her pack of this. And quickly, before Mr. Snooper-Sexy decided to support another Lupine’s bid for her job.

The recollection of Logan Hunter made Honor groan. He was the absolute last thing she needed in her life. Perhaps tied with a frontal lobotomy and Chinese foot binding. All three promised to cause her intense pain, considerable inconvenience, and no few worries while accomplishing nothing useful.

In fact, while she was having fun with analogies, the man reminded her of French fries, one of her biggest weaknesses. Like the junk food, the Silverback offered no nutritional value and promised to do little more than weigh her down and leave her hungry for more a few hours later. And also like French fries, her craving for him came out of nowhere and refused to be pushed from her mind no matter how hard she struggled.

Damn him.

Honor kicked off the light cotton blanket, suddenly way too hot to tolerate even the minimal covering. Unlike some of the Lupines she knew, Honor didn’t just keep a blanket on her bed, she even used it on occasion; but not tonight. Not while she was obsessing over a sexy stranger, and definitely not three days before she was due to go into heat.

Of all the rotten luck. Her father couldn’t have died immediately after her heat when her hormones would settle down and make her life and her interactions with every male on the planet a hell of a lot easier. No, he had to time it so that her alpha challenges were just as likely to turn into attempted rapes as attempted murders.

Gee, thanks, Dad.

To add insult to the injury of her past few days, she’d been forced to start using the scented bath salts, which gave off a fragrance way too heavy for her sensitive nose, to try and mask the beginning of the changes to her body chemistry that any Lupine worth his salt would have known indicated her approaching heat.

And while she was at it, she thought she’d throw in a few menstrual cramps and a case of boils. That sounded like fun.

Right. Sitting up in the bed, Honor ran her hands over her face and groaned. She figured she could either sit here till dawn and brood, or she could get up, go downstairs and make up for the dinner she’d never eaten. Now that the taste of blood had finally faded from her mouth, her Lupine metabolism had reared its head to let her know just how wildly it disagreed with the notion of her skipping a meal.

She swung her feet over the edge of the bed and onto the floor, ignoring the chill of the boards. Her stomach overruled her soles. She paused long enough to pull on the pajamas she’d never intended to sleep in and made her way down the hallway to the stairs.

The house sat silent around her. It always seemed silent since Ethan’s death, but especially at night. With just her and Joey there now, silence almost came with a guarantee. Joey barely made noise when shouting at the top of her lungs, and Honor only seemed to get into the house just long enough to fall unconscious for three or four hours a night. Since she didn’t snore, that meant things stayed pretty quiet.

She heard little more than the sound of her own breathing and the rattling of the bare tree branches in the yard as she made her way through the house. The glow of moonlight silvered the floor in front of the windows, making it look almost as cool as it felt against her bare feet. She ignored the chill as she headed for the kitchen. If she was lucky, Joey had left a snack or two in the fridge. A half calf or twelve would go down fairly smoothly right about now.

If she hadn’t been so hungry and so tired, she probably would have heard the soft sound of breathing coming from inside the kitchen. She knew she would have noticed the smell—that musky, woodsy smell she’d detected earlier in her father’s bedroom when she’d emerged from her bath.

The smell of the stranger.

But she didn’t notice a thing, not until she turned on the overhead kitchen lights and found her eyes focusing on the half-naked male form standing beside the center island.

“Care for a snack?”

Logan wanted to make a snack out of her.

He stifled the urge to bare his teeth and inhale deeply, since it wasn’t precisely the polite thing to do, but damn, he wanted to. There was something about her scent, hidden under the too heavy perfume of whatever she’d added to her bath … something indefinable and elusive.

Either that, or he had a cold.

“What are you doing here?”

Okay, not exactly the hey-sailor-buy-me-a-drink he’d been hoping for, but he figured that might be pushing things a tad.

“I got hungry. The diner in town’s not bad, but their idea of all you can eat and mine aren’t precisely the same.” He held up a chunk of the sirloin he’d been munching. “Your housekeeper told me to help myself.”

“She’s my cousin. And she should have told you to help yourself to the opposite side of the front door.”

He watched her cross her arms over her chest, figuring it gave him the perfect excuse to stare at her breasts without being caught staring at her breasts. How was that for smooth?

“Ironically enough, she decided to go with the whole polite thing. She put me in a guest room overlooking the woods. Private bath. Pretty homey.”

“Really, and did she leave a mint on your pillow?”

“Chocolate. I had it before I came downstairs.”

She rolled her eyes and stalked past him toward the refrigerator. “I’m surprised you didn’t just call up for room service.”

Logan seized the opportunity to reevaluate the ass he’d been so struck by earlier. He almost choked on the beef. Lord, but it looked even better than the last time he’d seen it.

He quickly finished swallowing and shook his head in amazement. He still didn’t quite get why he found this woman so compelling. She pretty much defined “not his type.” Dark-haired and dark-eyed, she should have had dusky, tanned, or olive skin. Instead, her complexion looked pale and milky and perfect, especially in the silver light of the waxing moon that had illuminated the kitchen before she’d turned on the lights.

She’d looked like a shadow as she slipped through the dark house. Her form, slender and tallish, seemed almost too delicate to be Lupine. He was used to women of his species being sturdy and athletic, but this girl looked as if a good strong handshake might do her an injury. Her cousin had certainly seemed convinced that Honor could hold her own as alpha, but Logan found himself even more skeptical after meeting her. Somehow, he could not picture this woman facing an alpha challenge, let alone winning one. Or three, as Joey had told him. Just this week. It boggled his mind.

Of course, part of that might have had something to do with the fact that he could picture a whole lot more appealing things to do with her than fight, once he got his hands on her.

She slapped a plastic container down on the island and peeled off the lid, reaching inside for a bite-sized piece of pork. “So what time are you leaving in the morning?”

The pointed question made him smile. He had to give her points for effort. “About a week from next Tuesday, I figure. If everything goes smoothly.”

“Perhaps I’m not making myself clear, but you really aren’t welcome here. I want you gone. Now.”

“No, I actually think that’s pretty clear. The problem is that what you want really isn’t the issue. For the past three hundred years, the White Paw Clan has been swearing fealty to the Silverback alpha. That makes your clan his responsibility, and from where Graham Winters stands, there are two things that could happen here.” He ignored her glare and stole a piece of her pork, more to keep his hands occupied with something other than her sweet curves than because he was still hungry. “Either way, the White Paw alpha will need to renew that vow of fealty at the next Silverback howl. The only remaining question is whether the White Paw alpha will be you, or someone else.”

He watched her while he spoke, so he saw the muscles in her jaw clench and her eyes narrow when he made that statement. He tried to ignore the way the spark in her gaze made his jeans fit a little too tightly.

“I am the White Paw alpha. And I will remain the White Paw alpha for a very long time to come.”

“That’s what I’m here to determine. Maybe you will hold the title, maybe you won’t. The Silverback is not so much concerned with who keeps your pack as with the knowledge that the pack is well kept.”

He could almost see her hackles rise. “I. Will. Hold. My. Pack. Did you get that? Or do I need to use smaller words?”

Logan clenched his teeth to hold back the growl he could feel reverberating in his chest. His wolf didn’t like to be challenged. It reacted instinctively to her aggressive tone. “You need to watch your mouth.”

“Make me.”

She knew almost before the words formed on her tongue that saying them would be a mistake, but they launched themselves into the quiet room before she could stop them. They hung between her and the sexy stranger like the ripe scent of heat, and she couldn’t take them back. She felt the words pulse between them for all of three rapid heartbeats before she made her fateful mistake.

She blinked.

He was on her before her eyelids completed their upswing, launching himself over the island in a leap at least four feet high from a standing start. She had the vague impression of muscles tensing and shifting under tight denim, the image of tanned skin and dark hair moving toward her, and as fast as her reflexes were, she couldn’t outrun him. He caught her just as she turned her back on him in an instinctual flight response. Even her subconscious mind knew she had pushed him as far as his limits would allow, but her subconscious wasn’t fast enough.

He carried her to the tile floor, one hand outstretched to catch their weight as they tumbled to the cold, hard surface. She tried to flip them, but he had surprise and brute male strength on his side. He pinned her almost immediately, both hands above her head, legs parted around his granite-hard thighs. She felt helpless, and decided she didn’t much like the unfamiliar feeling.

She repeated that thought to herself like a mantra while she tried to ignore the way her body softened instinctively beneath him. She didn’t need to be thinking about the rapid pulse beating in her chest or the restless heat pooling between her legs. She knew perfectly well that he was aware of both, and she didn’t have a chance of escaping him if she let her stupid hormones control her.

The air stirred around them as he lowered his head to her throat and sniffed. He drew breath like a starving man drew sustenance, as if he could take in her essence as it floated in the air around her. The act made her shiver, and he growled, low and rough, above her.

“I’d be happy to watch it for you,” he rumbled, pressing his body down over hers, not enough to crush her, but enough to remind her who had the upper hand. “I can keep very…” He paused to nip her lips. “Close.” Lick. “Track.”

Then his mouth closed over hers, and he feasted.

She wanted to hate it, waited for the rough surge of rage that had consumed her the last time any Lupine had dared to touch her uninvited. She braced herself for disgust and outrage and fury to come to her aid, but all she got was melting and hunger and greed. She wanted to devour him as surely as he devoured her.

She cursed her body for its betrayal, her hands that clenched into fists instead of sprouting claws to tear him to shreds. The thighs that spread and knees that lifted to cradle him closer. The lips that softened and parted under his, clinging and encouraging. Goddamn it, but her life would have been so much easier if this man had repulsed her. Even just a little. A mild sort of nausea whenever she got too close to him. Was that too much to ask?

Apparently.

Instead of feeling her stomach roll, she felt her body shiver when his tongue tangled with hers. She tugged at it, let her teeth scrape the surface, and struggled in vain to suppress the moan building in her throat. It boiled out of her, a muted sound swallowed in the fever of their kiss. Still, even muffled it seemed to excite him. He answered with a growl of his own and shifted his grip on her wrists until he pinned both of her hands with one of his own. She could have broken the hold if she’d tried, but she was too busy trying to remember how to breathe when his newly freed palm closed over her breast and squeezed.

When she gasped in reaction, she breathed in the air he expelled on a satisfied grunt. It carried the taste of him even deeper inside her, the rich, warm taste of heat and spice and passion. She wanted more of it, wanted it filling her up and making her blind to everything else in the world. The luxury of the thought went to her head almost as fast as he did.

Then he went for her skin even faster, and she forgot such a thing as the world even existed. He caught the center of her tank top in his fist and yanked, and the garment shredded in his grasp. He threw away the tatters with an impatient motion, then paused for a breathless moment to stare down at her. His gaze fixed on her breasts, nipples already tight and beaded in arousal, and she could almost see his mouth watering. His scent intensified, drowning her in the heady fragrance, and she knew hers must be doing the same to him. Not only was she at least as aroused as he was, but her heat was now only forty-eight hours away.

If he knew, though, he was already too far gone to process the information rationally. All he seemed to know now was hunger and urgency. He pulled her hands, forcing her to straighten her arms more, the action lifting her breasts higher until he could lean down and set his mouth to one tightly beaded peak.

Honor screamed.

She didn’t mean to. In fact, she’d have given her left incisor if she could have caught the sound before it emerged, but no such luck. It tore from her throat, low and raw and hoarse, like an animal’s cry. He heard and answered, not with a matching sound, but by taking her nipple between his teeth and tugging. Then his mouth closed over the entire peak and began to draw on her. The hot, wet suction sent her body bowing beneath him, bending in a taut arch in response to the unbearable pleasure of the sensation.

He growled a low, tense encouragement, and she felt his hand shift from her breast where it had toyed with her other nipple down over the smooth expanse of skin of her belly. She felt a nail catch in the soft fabric of her pajama pants before it slid beneath. His palm glided over the softness of her stomach to tangle in the damp curls at the apex of her thighs. One long finger dipped, parting her slick folds and finding the center of her pleasure.

Again she screamed. This time the sound of her frustration shook the entire house, but she couldn’t have cared less. She began to fight him in earnest, not to escape his touch but in her fever to do some touching of her own. She ached for the feel of his slick skin under her fingers, and she intended to have it. Rearing up, she turned her head and sank her teeth deep into his bicep, the nearest bit of his flesh she could reach. He yanked his mouth from her breast and snarled down at her. She met his gaze fiercely.

“Want. More.”

His eyes narrowed at her hoarsely panted demand, but his expression only turned more predatory. He didn’t seem to object. Instead, he slowly pulled his hand from between her legs, letting it stroke every individual nerve ending it could reach along the way. The entire length slid along her clit, making her buck and shudder and curse him. Then his nail caught it in a wicked flick, and she yelped.

He flashed her a feral grin, raising his glistening fingers to his mouth before he growled, “So do I.”

Honor watched as he licked her moisture from his hand. She saw the way his eyes narrowed as he tasted her, saw the knowledge light them, and she swore.

“Heat.”

She had rolled out of his grasp before the word cleared his lips. Seeing the flare of dominance and possession in his eyes poured a bucketful of icy cold common sense all over her enflamed skin. Damn it, she should have known all the bath salts in the world couldn’t disguise the flavor of her heat from a mature male Lupine. He’d known the minute he lifted his fingers to his lips that the new White Paw alpha was just hours from the start of her heat cycle. It was irresistible to any male Lupine, but to one with as many dominance tendencies as her Silverback visitor, it was like the proverbial red flag in front of the bull. She might as well have tattooed “Come and get me, big boy” across her forehead.

“Here,” he snarled, even as she sprang to her feet and looked for a clear path to the door. “Come. Here.”

She growled in response, baring her teeth at him, body coiling in preparation for flight. If she could make it around him and out of the kitchen, she might have a chance of outrunning him. If not, then she could definitely lose him in the woods. He wasn’t familiar with them like she was, and there were ways she could mask her scent at least well enough to confuse him.

“Now.”

She shook her head and crouched. She wished she still had her tank top on, or that she dared to take the seconds it would cost her to shift to her wolf form. Running bare breasted through the woods at three-thirty in the morning hadn’t made her top ten list this year, but it looked just about inevitable.

“Here.”

She opened her mouth to defy him again, but she never got the chance. Before she could speak, Joey stepped into the room, wide-eyed with concern. “Honor? What’s going on here? Is everything all right?”

Honor nearly burst out laughing. She might have, if the tension weren’t thick enough to choke the sound out of her, and if she weren’t keeping her gaze glued to Logan’s face in anticipation of his next move.

“Get out.”

Logan barked the order as if he had every right, but what pissed Honor off was that Joey actually started to obey.

“I didn’t say leave, Joey. And you still take your orders from me. Don’t you.”

It wasn’t a question, and Honor didn’t bother to look in Joey’s direction to gauge her answer. She refused to so much as blink. She didn’t trust the Silverback visitor not to use the slip to his advantage.

Logan snarled. “You’ll take them from me.”

“I’ll take them from no one.” All the days of tension and struggle and uncertainty suddenly overwhelmed Honor, and she struck out where she could. At Logan. “I am the White Paw alpha. Not you. Not Winters. No one but me. And the alpha does. Not. Answer.”

They stared at each other, teeth bared, eyes narrowed. Honor could feel the skin between her shoulder blades shift and tighten, raising the hackles she didn’t actually have in her human form. She’d bet Logan could feel the same subtle crawling beneath his skin. She almost said a prayer of gratitude for it, since if they’d been in their were or wolf forms, they’d likely have already been locked together, either ripping out each other’s throats, or mating furiously on the kitchen tile. Which one it would have been was entirely up for debate.

“Can I get anyone anything? A cup of tea? Or I could make cocoa…”

Honor snorted. If the tension had been any less thick, she might have laughed. Instead, she straightened her spine and reached out a hand to her cousin, never taking her eyes off Logan’s. “No. We’re done. Give me your robe.”

Joey didn’t hesitate, but untied the thick, terry-cloth robe she wore and shrugged out of it, laying it over Honor’s outstretched arm. She shivered a little in the thin cotton nightgown she wore, but she didn’t say a word.

Honor pulled the robe on and belted it closed, concealing her bare breasts from the two people in the room she felt really didn’t need to be seeing them right now. “I’m going to bed. Because the White Paw Clan is an honorable one, I won’t ask you to leave tonight, Mr. Hunter, but I expect your bags to be packed in the morning.”

Then she did what she never would have done if Joey hadn’t been there. She turned her back on Logan Hunter and walked out of the room.