“What did I do?” I asked.

“You upset Christy, and that upset Auriele–who doesn’t think that leaving Christy’s general well‑being to Adam is the right thing to do,” he snapped. “I do not enjoy being put in the middle of this.”

“ Iupset Christy?” I asked. “When?”

“This afternoon. You insisted she sleep in the ground‑floor suite when she has a stalker after her. She’s just a little bit of a thing–”

“Darryl,” I said.

“I don’t know what you were thinking,” he said, forgetting Adam entirely. “Downstairs isn’t safe. She’s human and in danger from a stalker who, Auriele tells me, may have already killed a man.”

“Darryl,” I said again, then quit waiting for him to give me space to speak and just took it. “I admit I thought Christy would be more comfortable in the suite where she would have her own bathroom. The windows are alarmed, and there are werewolves– werewolves, Darryl–in the house to hear when any stranger approaches–even on foot.” I tried unsuccessfully to keep the exasperation from my voice. “In any case, she’s staying upstairs–and I didn’t object in any size, shape, or form as I wasn’t even home when she got there. I was at work.”

He stared down at me, and I met his gaze. He didn’t look away, and I finally threw up my hands in exasperation. “No. I am not thrilled by my husband’s ex‑wife moving into my house and sleeping in the bedroom next to me. But I am not making her unwelcome. I am not putting her in danger. And you know, you knowthat I am not lying.”

Darryl inhaled. Looked away.

“Ah damn,” he said with less eloquence than a man with a Ph.D. who worked in a government think tank should use. “She’s doing it again. I’d almost forgotten.”

“I’m doing whatagain?” I asked. I was starting to get mad, too.

“It’s Christy, Mercy,” said Adam. “ Christyis doing it again. She has a way of making people worry about her.”

“And that’s the kindest way to put it,” Darryl said, sounding poleaxed. “You’d think I’d have seen it. I’ve had a lot of experience. I’ll explain what happened to Auriele, and she’ll realize that she misunderstood what Christy said. Just like the last ten times she misunderstood–it will end up being my fault because I should have realized she misunderstood what Christy told her. My only excuse is that I’ve had years to forget, and Auriele is blind to the faults of people she loves. I am the most fortunate man in the world because I am the beneficiary of that blindness, but I forget that other people are beneficiaries, too.”

“Education and brains don’t help when dealing with my ex‑wife,” Adam said, sounding amused, of all things. “You aren’t wired to see through Christy, and neither is Auriele. Now let’s go meet–”

I don’t know how long Zack had been standing outside his hotel room listening to us, but, from the look on his face, it had been long enough. He saw me watching, and his face went blank.

“Zack,” I said. “Let me introduce my husband, Adam Hauptman, and his second, Darryl Zao. Gentlemen, this is Zack Drummond.”

“Hi,” he said warily. He still looked tired and too thin. “Come in. Let’s get this over with.” Enthusiasm was notable by its absence.

Zack turned and walked through the open door of the motel room. Adam followed Zack, and Darryl gestured for me to go ahead. I stepped in and had to fight not to gag.

Maybe a human’s nose wouldn’t have picked up the odors in that motel room, or maybe it wouldn’t have picked up allthe odors. Maybe. But I didn’t think even an asthma patient who hadn’t smelled a scent in months could have stayed in that room for longer than ten minutes without being nauseated.

Cigar, cigarette, pipe, and every other substance anyone could smoke permeated the room, along with the smell of sex, urine, feces, and old alcohol. I’ve heard people complain that there is nothing worse than the smell of stale beer, but that room proved them wrong. Stale beer was the least unpleasant scent in the room. There was also mold, mildew, and mouse. All it needed was a skunk.

Neither Adam nor Darryl showed any sign of distress. Zack looked at me and gave me a faint smile. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“You can move in with us for a few weeks,” I said. “As it happens, we have a freshly cleaned bedroom suite that no one is using.”

“No,” he said gently. “I’m sorry, but I’d rather put up with this than … Your house don’t sound like a safe place to be at the moment. I don’t like pack politics–them and me don’t get along.”

Darryl would have said something–submissive wolves usually do fine in pack politics because, like Christy, no one wants to hurt them–but Adam made a subtle hand gesture that meant “stop.”

“That’s fine,” said Adam. “Welcome to the Tri‑Cities, Zack Drummond. Usually, we would throw a party to welcome you–and we will–but the constraints of your schedule means that cannot happen this week. We have vampires in this town and half fae and a host of other denizens of the Forgotten and Hiding, many of which would love to find an unaffiliated werewolf to hunt.”

“I understand,” said Zack when Adam stopped speaking.

“Okay. My full name is Adam Alexander Hauptman. What is yours?”

“Zachary Edwin Drummond.”

Adam shut his eyes and took in three deep breaths–under the circumstances in that room, it was a braver act than it usually was. Every time he breathed in, I could feel the pull of pack magic and felt it gather to his need.

My mate opened his eyes and focused his full attention on Zack. “Look me in the eyes with no offense taken or meant, Zachary Edwin Drummond.”

Zack raised his chin and met Adam’s gaze. “I see you, Adam Alexander Hauptman, Alpha of the Columbia Basin Pack.”

“Will you join with us, to hunt, to fight, to live and run?”

“Under the moon,” Zack said. “I will hunt, fight, live and run with you and yours who shall be mine.”

“We claim you,” Darryl said, and pulled out a pocketknife and opened it one‑handed.

“We claim you,” I said when Adam glanced at me.

“ Iclaim you,” said Adam, and he took Darryl’s knife and cut a chunk of meat the size of the tip of my little finger off his forearm with practiced ease. “Alpha’s flesh and blood you shall be.”

He offered the bloody bit to Zack, who ate it off his fingers. Blood welled up from the wound on Adam’s arm. Four fat drops fell to the carpet, and then the gouge scabbed over. In less than an hour, there would be no sign of the wound at all. A simple cut would have healed even faster.

“From this day forward,” Adam said. “Mine to me and mine. Pack.”

“Yours to you, mine to me,” answered Zack. The smoothness of his answer told me how often he’d done this.

Magic sizzled and zipped between us, burning in my chest as if someone had set a match there. But I shared that power with the whole pack, who received Zack along with me. Zack got the whole of his end, and he cried out and wrapped his arms around his chest and sank down on the bedspread.

It would have taken more than a jolt of pack magic to make me touch that bedspread.

Darryl was made of sterner stuff. He sat down beside Zack and wrapped one of his long arms around the other man’s shoulders.

“Breathe through it,” he advised. “I know it burns like freaking nitrous. But it will be over before you know it.”

“Better joining than leaving,” said Zack in a tight voice. But the worst was over, and his muscles started to relax. Until he noticed that Darryl was holding him.

Darryl saw it, too, and released him immediately. “All done,” he said, standing up.

“Now,” said Adam. “Tell me about this job you have.”

“I’m washing dishes at a restaurant,” he said. “It’s fine. I’ve done a lot of dishwashing jobs.”

“Under the table or over the table?” asked Adam.

Zack heaved an impatient sigh. “You’re one of thoseAlphas,” he said in a long‑suffering voice. “It’s safe. I’m legal, and the job is legitimate. Not quite full‑time, so I’ll have to find another job to get out of this dump. But I can do that. I’m good at finding jobs. I need a pack, not a parent.”