LITMIR.BIZ

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      Jace grinned and tossed his head toward the sound of the voice. I nodded again and followed him into the main room, mingling with the various enforcers standing against the walls, most with their hands clenched into fists at their sides. They were agitated, on high alert from having our rented territory invaded by a stranger. A very large stranger of another species.

      The bruin wasn’t hard to spot. In fact, he would have been impossible to hide.

      The largest tomcat in the room was my cousin Lucas Wade, who’d accompanied my uncle Rick to the hearing. In human form, Lucas was six and a half feet tall and more than three hundred pounds of solid muscle. He had to enter most rooms sideways. Running into him was like hitting the side of a house.

      The bruin was more than a foot taller than Lucas, and I couldn’t begin to imagine how much he weighed. His hair was light reddish-brown, which I hadn’t expected, and plentiful, which I had. It hung to his shoulders in thick, tangled waves, blending seamlessly with a beard of the same length and color. His cheeks were ruddy from the cold, and above them shone eyes that were proportionately small, dark brown and surprisingly expressive. And what I saw in them at the moment was anger. Unfiltered, unmistakable anger.

      “You can’t just walk in here and demand an audience,” Calvin Malone insisted from the center of the room where he, like everyone else, was dwarfed by the angry bear. “This is neither the proper place, nor the proper way to address our council. I’m going to have to ask you to—”

      “Calvin.” My father’s voice cut through Malone’s with the confidence of long-held authority. Malone faded into silence, but he didn’t move. My father was unfazed. “I’m sure we can spare the time to meet with a member of our brother species. In fact, I think that’s the least we owe our guest. That, and perhaps a cup of coffee?”

      On his left, Uncle Rick nodded, as did Paul Blackwell, who watched from the kitchen doorway. Malone scowled, then conceded the point with a brisk nod. “Of course.”

      My father’s gaze settled on me and Jace. “Jace, bring some coffee for…” He paused, addressing the bruin again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

      “Elias Keller,” the giant rumbled.

      “Some coffee for Mr. Keller?” my father continued, and Jace nodded, already headed toward the kitchen. “Mr. Keller, will you have a seat?”

      Keller nodded, apparently surprised by the offer of hospitality. But there was barely enough space to breathe, much less sit, in the crowded room. My father looked almost amused by the extra security. “Gentlemen, could you give us a little room?”

      The tomcats hesitated, glancing around at one another. Then, almost as one they migrated toward the exits, some headed for the front door, others for the hallway. When the room had cleared, except for the four Alphas, my father considered me for a moment, then tossed his head toward the kitchen. I went willingly, because if I sat quietly and chose my seat carefully, I’d be able to see and hear everything that happened in the main room. A minor bright spot in what was shaping up to be one of the worst days of my life.

      Jace stood in front of the coffeepot, pouring creamer into a plain white mug. “You think he takes it with hazelnut creamer?” I leaned with one hip against the counter next to him.

      “I’m guessing black.” He stirred, then tapped the spoon against the rim of the mug before dropping it into the sink. “This one’s for you.” Winking, he handed me the cup of doctored coffee, then carried a second mug—black—into the living room. He was back a minute later, pouring a third mug for himself.

      I sat at the small round table, my chair positioned as far to the right as possible. From there, I could see the bruin, who took up most of the ugly beige sofa all on his own. I could also see my father, in the armchair nearest the couch, and Malone, opposite him in a matching chair.

      “…can we do for you, Mr. Keller?” My father asked, his hands templed beneath his chin, fingertips brushing a slight shadow of stubble.

      Across from him, Malone faced mostly away from me, so that I saw only a slice of his profile. But that was enough for me to recognize the scowl dominating his expression. He was clearly irritated with my father for taking charge, which sent a petty surge of glee through me. Did Malone think chairing the tribunal sitting in judgment of me gave him enough power to displace Greg Sanders as the head of the entire Territorial Council? If so, he was sorely mistaken, and at that moment I wanted nothing more out of life than to be present when my father made that fact clear.

       And maybe a full pardon. That would be nice, too.

      Jace slid into the seat on my right, setting his own mug on the table in front of him. I mouthed, “Thanks,” and held up my cup before sipping from it, my attention already focused on the Alphas and the bruin.

      “What can you do for me?” Keller ran one broad, thickfingered hand along his scraggly beard, tugging it as he stared down at my father. “Keep your cats off my mountain.”

      Bruins, like the bears they Shifted into, lived almost exclusively in the northern rocky districts—mostly Alberta, British Columbia and Alaska. Very few lived in the continental U.S., and those who did stuck to isolated regions of the Northwest—including the werecat free zone in Montana, where we’d come for my hearing.

      “Our cats?” My father glanced at his fellow Alphas, but none seemed to have any idea what our ursine guest was talking about.

      “Well, they certainly aren’t my cats,” Keller scoffed. He lifted his mug—which looked like a toy cup in his tennis racket-size hand—and drained the contents in one long swallow. Then he set the empty cup on the coffee table and eyed my father steadily.

      “What are these cats doing, exactly?” Calvin Malone asked.

      “They’re carrying on like a pack of rabid dogs, not five miles from my place.” Keller shifted in his seat, and the couch groaned with his movement. “Hunting and fighting in the daytime. Making all kinds of racket. It’s a bad time for such ruckus, what with humans crawling all over the mountain looking for those missing hikers. Damn fools. Those cats of yours are either gonna make trouble, or be trouble, and I want no part of it either way.”

       Missing hikers?

      On my left, the kitchen door creaked open, and I turned to see Marc step inside. His gaze found me instantly, the gold specks glittering in his brown eyes. He looked away first, as had become his habit since we’d broken up ten weeks earlier. Ten weeks and four days, to be exact. And approximately ten hours.

      But who was counting?

      A familiar ache settled into my chest, and I tried to drown it with coffee.

      “Are you sure they’re Shifters, and not natural cats? Cougars, maybe?” Uncle Rick asked from the living room. I tried to concentrate on what was being said, but I couldn’t seem to drag my gaze from Marc.

      “What’s going on?” he whispered to Jace, avoiding my eyes as he sniffed in the direction of the living room. “And what’s that smell?”

      “Of course I’m sure,” Keller rumbled from the other room, and Marc froze at the sound of the strange voice.

      “Is that what I think it is?” Marc murmured, crossing the kitchen to stand behind us, where he could see into the living room. “A bruin?”

      Jace nodded, a grin practically splitting his face in half. Bruins were rarer than thunderbirds. Rarer even than tabby cats, at least in the U.S. My father said they’d be gone for good someday. Maybe during my lifetime. I’d never expected to see one in person.

      “They’re bigger than cougars, and jet-black, every one,” Keller continued. “Smarter ’n cougars, too. But they lack the common sense to be frightened when they ought.”

      Definitely tomcats, then, I thought. And probably teenagers.

      “I

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