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Tents line the perimeter with a large stone paved circle in the centre. Towards the opposite end of the entrance is a raised stone altar where there are currently three older shifter men lounging. They are dressed casually in torn jeans and tee shirts, despite the extreme winter chill (shifters tend to run extra hot after all), drinks in hand. From the steady collection of cans next to them, it is safe to assume they have been settled in for a while.
There are several other groups clustered around, drinking and laughing, and it looks like a giant family reunion. Which, I guess, in a way, it is. Full moon gatherings offer shifters, and other beings, a chance to get together with their packs and return to family when life has them spread out across the lands in our more modern times.
One of the bartenders at my old work was a feline shifter. He didn’t go to his pack gatherings every month, but he was always in a better mood when he had. On the other hand, that could have also been because full moons tended to put beings into a kind of heat… shifters were the most affected by the pull of the moon. That definitely could have explained his good mood when he returned to work.
As we enter the clearing, led by the still naked Seff, the raucous festivities come to a halt with almost comical timing. Hand still entwined in mine, I feel Caelan stiffen next to me as we stare back at the mob of predator shifters eyeing us. Seff walks through the barricade of tents and into the crowd, waving and greeting his pack as we pass, seemingly completely oblivious to the shift in the air. And his continued nakedness. I mean,I’mconfident, but this guy takes it to a whole new level.
As the crowd parts to let us through, I keep an eye on Seff and the cheeky grins he hands out like candy. Watching him interact with his fellow pack members it quickly becomes obvious that his friendly obliviousness is a front, and he is more than aware of the drama he is stirring up. I even have an inkling that he enjoys it. Which I respect, really. Considering the looks the rest of his shifters throw his way, ranging from flirty to indulgent to barely tolerant, I don’t think too many of the others have clued into his game. He wears his mask well.
We near the stone altar, overgrown with moss in a way that actually looks pretty and almost intentional, Seff intent on talking to the men in charge lounging at the steps. An older man blocks his path in a game of chicken, refusing to move out of our way, continuing his conversation with another male shifter as if we simply do not exist. Completely undeterred by the man’s rudeness, Seff’s casual, affable smile only grows bigger, bolder. But there is something in his eyes,the set of his shoulders. Steely determination that he really shouldn’t be played with. The sudden shift in his power is almost a little unnerving in its subtlety.
“Gerald, old man, how are you doing? How are the grandkids?” Clapping the older man by the shoulder, he interrupts his conversation and swivels him around to face us. With a deft move, and impressively subtle strength, Seff grabs hold of his hand, gives it a shake and twists again and suddenly we’re on the other side of the man’s attempted obstruction. “We’ll have to catch up. Say hi to your son for me.”
The older man’s heavy brows first rise in confusion as he realises we have deftly side stepped his assholery and then slam down in a fierce glower. He isn’t a tall man, but he is still big. A thick wall of muscle as wolf shifters have a tendency to be, with a ridiculously thick neck, and now his teeth are bared at us like we might be dinner. Nice. Seff, however, is completely unflinching in his over-the-top friendly antics and throws Gerald double finger guns before wrapping an arm around mine and Caelan’s shoulders and ushering us on.
“Slept with his son a couple of years back before he married his wife. Gerald is still a little salty that hisbig alpha sonlikes to take the D.”
I choke back a laugh at Seff’s whispered confession, and even Caelan has to reign in his small smile. I don’t want to like this guy, but I think he’s growing on me.
We approach the trio lounging on the steps andtheyat least have the good manners to pause their conversation to acknowledge our existence. The one in the centre, who bears a striking resemblance to Seff, only older and significantly more clothed, rises from his position reclining against the stone slab that acts as the altar and lifts a hand in greeting to our trio.
“Seff! It’s about time you got here! Your mum’s around here somewhere, but, uh, we put your clothes in your tent.” He gives Seff a rather pointed look, but it is straight up ignored.
“Yeah, Dad, thanks, get right on it. Anyway, Look! Caelan’s here! Found him having a little walk through the Woods with his friend Tor and, long story short, invited them to spend the night. Figured it was fine since Caelan is technically pack and all.” Despite his easy-going tone, there is determination and authorityin his statement that speaks to his true power. It sizzles through his aura, not a threat, but a very obvious warning.
Something tells me I don’t want to be on Seff’s bad side. His father holds his stare for a beat, his expression neutral, but I can feel his own power pushing up against Seff’s. For a heartbeat, I worry we might have made a vital error. Even Caelan’s hand tenses in mine when the older man’s amber eyes, exactly like Seff’s, slide over to us. Caelan’s spine is so straight I think he might snap into a million little shards.
Seff’s father looks us over, assessing us in our grubby hiking kit and bags, filthy from our scuffle with Seff and the general layer of grime that just can’t be washed away in camp showers. That worry increases a thousandfold. My heart thunders in my chest while he assesses us.Can he hear it?I wonder as my heart beats out of control. I am not usually wary of shifters, but that was back in the city.
The city where you hear all sorts of stories about the feral beings and creatures that live in the Woods.
Just when I think I’m about to pass out, or word-vomit my anxiety all over the place, a true smile splits over his handsome face. Just as handsome and charming as his son’s.
“Caelan, it is truly good to see you again.” He stands, and with the awareness that his place on the steps makes him loom over us, he nimbly jumps down, extending a hand to Caelan. He has to release mine to take it and for a moment, I think he won’t do it.
Instead, he gives my fingers one last squeeze before shaking the elder’s hand. A deathly silence takes over the gathering, making me all too aware that we are being watched by every single member of the pack. And not even subtly, which is extra rude considering their enhanced hearing.
“Good to see you too, sir, uh, Roderick. This is my… Tor.” Ok, so maybe we need to figure out a label to make these introductions a little less awkward. Roderick offers his hand and I dutifully take it. His hand is warm and calloused, roughened with physical labour. His handshake is strong and perfunctory, likehe is aware of his strength and power. He doesn’t feel the need to dominate. He already knows he’s won. “Tor, this is Roderick, Seff’s father.”
“And new pack leader,” Seff interrupts. Well, that explains the power exchange and the way everyone is watching our interaction with such intense, and seriously rude, interest. I swallow hard.
From the stories Caelan has told me, Seff’s father had always been on the more progressive side of things. He was all for letting Caelan, and others like him, into the pack back in the day. Maybe that means that he could join? Is that something he still wants? A frisson of apprehension runs down my spine, but I mentally shove it away and put on the same sociable mask I have worn countless times at events my parents had dragged me to, or worse, those nights at work when I was done with people and I still had to hustle for tips.
“Pleasure to meet you sir, thank you for allowing us to intrude on your celebrations.”
Caelan turns to face me and raises an eyebrow, a small smirk on his lips.Kiss ass. I can almost hear the accusation.
But we are surrounded by a pack full of predators and I only want to be eaten by one man tonight, and that is him.
After that, introductions fly thick and fast. I have zero chance of remembering anybody’s actual names as drinks are shoved into our hands. Off to the side, a band starts up, playing classic rock, and Seff leaves us to go find his mum and some clothes. Finally.
Shifters are pretty casual about nudity. I mean, it’s not like they can shift with their underwear, but Seff takes comfort to new bounds.
I thought it would be awkward amongst the pack, but everyone is welcoming, if only because they are nosey. Caelan blushes furiously at the back pats and hugs thrown at him, making my heart do that irritating flippy thing every time I look at him. Which is a lot. Apparently, his denial of pack status has been a contentious issue over the years and more than a few are happy to see him return.
The air chills as the sun begins to set, but an enormous bonfire is quickly lit and stoked to a roaring blaze. Eventually Seff returns to the group, now mostlydressed in relaxed, well-worn jeans and a loose, long-sleeved henley. His feet are bare though.
A navy baseball cap is backwards on his head, pinning down his unruly hair. It looks worn-in and well-loved as well as extremely on-brand for him. He joins us by the fire where we are sitting with his mum Margie, but keeps a respectful distance, wary of pissing me off again. It doesn’t stop him from throwing me a cheeky wink before he plonks himself down, though. The wanker.
