“Cowards don’t deserve better,” said Angus.

The witch clearly wasn’t expecting support from that quarter either. Had there been so many repulsed by her scars?

But what she might have said had to wait, as someone knocked tentatively at the door. “It’s Alan,” their interloper said. “Can someone let me in?”

The minute the Emerald City Pack’s submissive wolf walked through the doorway, Charles felt more settled. Alan Choo was full-blood Chinese, and he looked it: delicate and unexpectedly strong, like a well-made blade.

Except for when he was alone with Anna, Charles had spent his entire life with Brother Wolf raging inside of him, pacing and growling against the trappings of civilization they were forced to bear. That’s what it meant to be dominant and ready to kill anything that threatened those under his protection. Kill at a moment’s notice.

Today was worse than usual. Brother Wolf was raging, and it was all Charles could do to make sure no one knew how hard he was struggling to hold on to control. He’d thought it only a minor addition that there were two other dominant wolves-wolves not of his pack-in the room with him and his mate.

But that was before Alan Choo walked into the room. He wasn’t an Omega like Anna-but he was submissive, and he knew how to deal with raging werewolves. Somehow having him in the room tipped the balance, and between him and Anna, they calmed everyone down-including Charles.

Charles sat in the chair on the other side of the little table from Angus. It was more to give Choo room to work than because he wanted take a seat, but being able to sit down with the other wolves in the room was an improvement.

Anna took a quick glance around, so Charles knew she’d sensed the new quiet in the room, too. She caught his eyes and gave him a quick smile and perched on the arm of his chair.

“He’s hurt because of me,” she told Choo.

Charles shook his head and told her the truth as he saw it. “Not your fault someone decided to try to grab you. Tom did his job, don’t be sorry.”

“Hey, Tom, man, whatcha been doing to yourself?” Choo’s words might have been flippant, but his hands were careful as he handled the injured wolf.

Tom allowed Alan to straighten his leg without uttering a grunt of pain-the little witch did more than enough of that for him.

“Damn it, damn it,” she muttered, as Alan worked. “With just a little more power, I could keep this from hurting you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Finally, Angus, Angus, who had no use for anyone who wasn’t a wolf, said, “Enough, Moira. It’s just a little pain. Over in a moment and not worth your fussing. It would be a lot worse if you hadn’t been with them-six vampires are more than a match for two wolves and any other witch I’ve ever seen. If you hadn’t used up your magic when you did, no one would be worried about a little thing like a broken leg. Enough.”

There was a sharpness in the last word that shut her up and earned the Alpha a glare from his wolf. Angus raised an eyebrow, and Tom dropped his gaze. Angus rolled his eyes. “God save me from lovebirds,” he said, and his gaze lighted on Charles and Anna.

They weren’t cuddling: Anna didn’t cuddle. Charles had the feeling that if life had been fair to her, she would have enjoyed it-and maybe a few years down the line she might. But for now he was grateful that she didn’t cower every time he touched her.

Still, she was sitting close enough that the old Alpha grinned.

“All of you lovebirds,” he said. “It gets in the way, and I’m not patient by nature. You-” He pointed a finger at Anna, and Charles was up and standing between them.

Reflex. So maybe he wasn’t as relaxed as he’d thought.

Angus dropped his finger, but finished his sentence. “Tell me what happened. I want more details.”

“Native Americans don’t like to be pointed at,” observed Choo quietly as he wrapped Tom’s rib so it could heal properly. “Native witches, skinwalkers and the like, use the gesture to throw curses and disease.”

Angus threw up his hands and dropped to his chair. “Oh for God’s sake. I’m not a witch. I don’t throw curses-I just want to know what the hell went on tonight.”

He sounded frustrated and offended-but all the wolves in the room knew the truth: he was afraid of Charles. He hadn’t been before, not until he looked into Brother Wolf’s eyes and knew the threat of death. Angus was Alpha and old with power, but there was no question as to who was dominant.

There had been no threat from Angus. Charles knew it, but it took more effort than it should have to sit down again. If Angus’s quick withdrawal hadn’t satisfied Brother Wolf, there would have been blood spilled.

Charles took his seat slowly and reached up to put a hand on Anna’s knee, the contact soothing him.

“Well,” she said brightly, “hasn’t this been interesting.” She reached out and put her hand on his shoulder, as if she needed help balancing on the arm of the chair. She and he were the only ones who knew that her touch helped him find balance while she distracted the others with her words.

“Okay. What happened.” She sucked in a breath. “Tom and Moira took me to Pike Street and we loaded ourselves down with as much as we could carry and delivered it here. I had everything I needed except for shoes-so Moira took me to her favorite shoe place a couple of miles away. We were on our way back when they jumped us. No warning, no sound, no smell, they were just on us.” A cold hand folded over his on her knee. She wasn’t as calm as she sounded. He turned his hand palm up and held her fingers in his hot grip.

“Four of them attacked Tom, one hit Moira, and the other grabbed me. I killed mine-” There was a growl of satisfaction under the stress in her voice, and he tightened his grip. His mate was tough. “By that time Tom had killed one of his attackers and Moira’s decided she wasn’t a threat and was helping the others with Tom. I was just about to throw myself into the fray when my brain caught up with my ears and I finally realized that Moira was trying to find out what had attacked us.”

Anna looked over at the witch with a grin. “I can remember thinking, ‘Poor thing can’t see what’s after us. How frightening for her.’ And so I told her. Then we were all nearly blinded by sunlight. The dead vamps burned, and the others fled. We called Alan, and I carried Tom and led Moira back here while she cleaned up behind us and kept us out of view.”

The witch, lightly petting Tom with clever fingers, gave Anna an innocent look, and Anna snorted. “Poor little blind witch, my aching butt. One-woman demolition crew. They never knew what hit them.”

“You think it was a wolf behind it,” Charles said.

Anna looked at him and, now that the story was laid out, she hesitated.

“Instinct,” he told her, “is most often right.”

Her mouth relaxed. “Yes. I think it was a wolf.” She closed her eyes while she mulled it over. “The attack felt like a pack attack. Hide in plain sight-enough people to do the job easily. They didn’t know about Moira, or they underestimated her.” She looked at him and gave him a small smile. “And me. They concentrated their attack on the strongest of us first-werewolf tactics. And they wanted to take me away with them. What would a vampire want with me?”

“Wolves.” Charles tried to feel it out. But the spirits were silent as they habitually were in the city. Or any other time they might be useful. “So what do you think, Angus? Could it have been Chastel? We had a run-in last night, and he was angry enough to kill someone.”

Angus was sprawled deliberately in his chair, showing how relaxed he was in Charles’s presence. “The Frenchman’s a beast. A powerful beast-but he’s addicted to the kill. He wouldn’t send anyone else. He wouldn’t want someone else to spill blood that he could feast on instead.”