Heir To The Pack (The Cursed Pack Book 1) (12 page)

“Welcome,” he said.

His dark, unblinking gaze made
her itch to fold her arms over her chest. She knew on some instinctual level
that she shouldn’t, although she couldn’t have said why.

“I’m Daisy,” her mom said.

“Welcome,” Joel repeated,
the inflection exactly the same. He didn’t give Daisy the same scrutiny he’d
afforded Annie.

The people stood in groups,
except for Joel, who stood alone. Arranged by pack? Each person greeted her but
no others introduced themselves. How impolite. That changed when she came to
the tall pale couple.

“I am Ivan of the Steppes,
and this is my sister Irina,” the man said. Irina glanced at her and twitched her
gaze away abruptly to stare off over the horizon, as if she had accidentally looked
at something repulsive.

“Nice to meet you Ivan,
Irina.” Annie deliberately kept her tone mild and friendly, despite the urge
she had to poke at Irina, to provoke her in response to the snub.

“Are you twins?” Daisy
asked.

Irina swung her gaze downwards,
wrinkling her nose as she regarded Daisy. “No.” Her pale lips closed on the
word, and tightened.

Annie smiled once more,
and took her mother’s arm. She’d dealt with plenty of rude old academics, and
the best strategy, in her view, was to kill them with kindness. They caught up
to Dash at the end of the line, where he stood with the ancient woman, her tall
male companion, and a short, older man with a mustache.

“Oracle, this is Annie,
and her mother Daisy. Annie, this is the Oracle, and the Mexican Alpha, Ramon.”
The short older man gave a brief bow. The tall man hung back, behind the
Oracle.

“The boy’s mother.” Her
voice was rich, with a thick accent Annie couldn’t quite place, Mexican, too,
perhaps. But there was a hint of something else. The crone shuffled her feet
and lifted her face to the sky. The milky eyeballs rolled from side to side in
her head, and she let out a long stream of laughter, more schoolgirl chortle
than the cackle Annie would have expected. She sounded much younger than she
looked.

The old woman shifted all
her weight to her cane, and extended her hand to Annie.

Annie had no choice but to
take it. Clearly this woman was someone important in the scheme of things from
the deference with which Dash spoke. She put her hand forward, fighting the
urge to put it in her pocket instead. Why be afraid of shaking hands with
somebody’s grandmother?

The old woman’s fingers,
lumpy with arthritis, closed on Annie’s.

“It’s a pleasure to meet
you, Oracle.”

“Is it? Good. You want to
speak with me. I’ll arrange it. Michael?”

The tall man nodded, and a
summer-warm smile flickered across his tanned face. “All right.”

Annie stepped to join
Dash, ready to get away from the intent stares of so many werewolves. The
weight of their collective gazes bore down on her. Was someone in this group
responsible for the bomb, the chase, or the attempts to abduct Jack? The hairs
stood up on the back of her neck.

Gaelan said, “I’ll escort
you,” curiously formal, and stepped aside, gesturing for Dash and Jack to lead
the way. Annie followed, with Daisy at her heels.

They entered through a
grand pair of elaborately carved wooden doors, into a foyer that soared to the
full height of the building with a cathedral ceiling. The floor below consisted
of a sea of grey fieldstones, each larger than a small car. The walls held
wooden carvings, prints, deer heads, and a single towering oil painting of a
man who looked remarkably like Dash, only older.

In the painting, he stood
in this very room, at the foot of the stairs, one hand on the finial. His eyes
pinned her where she stood—cold, blue, dominating, even from within a
mere painting.

“That’s quite a painting,”
Daisy said. “Who’s the artist?”

“The Oracle,” Gaelan said.

“So she hasn’t always been
blind?”

“No. But she painted it
long after she lost her sight.”

Annie was more interested
in the subject. “Is that your father, Dash?”

“Yes.” His tone was short,
and invited no further discussion.

Her skin prickled, and she
couldn’t look away from the patriarch’s gaze. She couldn’t shake the feeling
she’d been judged by him and found unworthy. What an odd notion that was, but
it haunted her all the same.

A hand touched her
shoulder, warm through her shirt, breaking her trance. “Let’s go upstairs,”
Dash said. “You look like you could do with some rest.”

She looked up at him, Jack
snuggled against his shoulder, and nodded. With luck there would be somewhere
here she could feel safe, somewhere to regroup.

He led the way up the
stairs and along a long hallway lined with doors. At the end stood a set of
double doors. They entered, to discover an antechamber beyond, decorated in
much the same vein as the foyer.

Dash continued through
another set of double doors to what she assumed would be the inner sanctum, but
it was actually a large living area, with huge windows down one side. The
floors of polished wood were lined with handsome woven rugs. The room was
comfortable, scattered with leather couches. Through a door to the side was a
kitchen made entirely of stainless steel and shining marble. A hallway led off
into darkness on the other side of the living area.

“Family suite,” he said. “A
home within a home, if you like. There are bedrooms off the hallway. One is
mine, but you can take your pick of the others. Gaelan will take whatever’s
left.”

“He’s staying with us?” They
really were like brothers. The lack of privacy chafed, but Gaelan seemed nice enough,
if she could get past the way they’d met.

“He’s the best bodyguard
we could hope for.”

The big blond spoke from
behind her. “I’ll station four guards in the antechamber. It’s the only way in
or out.”

“Don’t you think that’s a
bit excessive in your own home?” Daisy asked.

Dash shook his head
grimly. “Not after what happened today. I’m not taking any chances. Also, I
don’t want any of you going anywhere alone. You want to go outside? I’m going
with you. If I’m not around, Gaelan will go.”

Annie folded her arms
around herself, shivered. The ranch house might be a veritable palace, but it
was a cage nonetheless.

Gaelan stepped forward. “The
opening reception is in an hour. I’d suggest you have a shower, get ready, and
we’ll go over the security arrangements.”

Annie looked at her watch.
“I need to get Jack something to eat, and get him ready for bed.” State
functions or no, her baby came first, always.

Dash gave her a half
smile, his dark eyes hooded. “I’d like you to attend the reception, as my
escort. I understand Jack needs to go to bed. Can I do anything to help you with
him before we go down?”

She paused to think, but
Jack interrupted with, “Not tired,” and it came out in a half sob.

Dash pulled the boy to his
chest, squeezing him gently. “Why don’t we get something sent up for him to eat
from the main kitchen, and get Daisy to put him to bed? We’ll go to the
function and I’ll bring you back afterwards. It won’t be a long evening. We
will hunt, later, and I don’t need you for that part.”

She didn’t think she
wanted to be involved in any kind of hunt involving werewolves. It sounded like
a reasonable plan. Everybody would get what they needed. Except for her, but
she could wait until later to collapse. She nodded. “That’s fine.”

Gaelan went back out to the
antechamber to ask one of the guards to send up a tray.

“If you don’t mind me
asking, why is it so important for me to come?”

His jaw bulged as he set
his teeth, then deliberately relaxed. “I need to send a message.”

“What message is that?”

“That we are a united
front. I don’t want any rumors getting started.”

“I can understand that,”
Annie said. They might not actually be a united front, just virtual strangers
who happened to be parents together. On the other hand, she was happy to be
under Dash’s protection, in this strange place, surrounded by predators. They
didn’t need to show weakness in front of their enemies. She reached for Jack
and Dash released him into her arms. “Baby, are you okay with Grandma putting
you to bed tonight?”

“Watch cartoons with
Grandma?”

Annie laughed. “Any
excuse.”

“There’s a TV,” Dash said,
gesturing toward the wall. How he thought she might have missed it Annie didn’t
know. The screen was larger than the living room of her apartment.

“All right, Jack. You can
watch cartoons with Grandma. But no staying up late, you hear me?”

“Okay, Mama.”

She dropped a kiss on his
brow, breathed in his sweet scent. “I have to go shower.” She handed him on to
Daisy, who took him without comment.

Turning back to Dash, she
said, “You know, I really don’t have anything nice to wear to dinner, only what
we picked up at the mall. Will it be dressy?”

“I’ll get you something,”
Dash said. “What size are you?”

“Where on earth would you
get something at this hour, in this place? Oh. King-something-something. Right.”
Her face heated. She couldn’t quite adjust to the fact her son’s father was a
werewolf prince. The ability to magic up a dress at short notice underlined his
power. Would she ever get used to that idea, and all the implications?

“I’ll give Jack his
dinner,” Daisy said. “You go get glamorous. Pretty. Clean, anyway.” She sighed,
and Annie knew exactly what that meant. It was true. Glamor wasn’t really her
thing. Not since she’d become a mom, anyway, and rarely beforehand.

“I can dress up when I
have to.” Annie took herself off to the shower in one of the side bedrooms. A
bathrobe hung on the back of the door. At least she’d have something to change
into until her clothes arrived. She supposed she should be grateful they
weren’t all parading around naked. From what Dash had said earlier, she’d been
worried the whole event might be clothing-optional.

 
After her shower, she inspected herself
in the mirror, lips pressed together, stomach sucked in. No matter how thin she
happened to be at any given time—and at the moment “quite” was the
appropriate term—she’d always had a little potbelly since she’d had Jack.
Hopefully whatever clothes Dash found for her wouldn’t emphasize it too much.

Ridiculous to be vain. She
didn’t know any of these people, was only here for one reason, only interested
in one thing. Everything hung on navigating the next few days in order to have
a conversation with the Oracle. Even that was ridiculous. She’d fallen into a
world where she didn’t know the rules. She’d kill for more background on these
people. A textbook was probably out of the question. Dash had told her a little
but she’d have to prod him for more to prevent her from making any social gaffes.

Running her fingers
through her damp hair, she sighed, giving it one last flick before donning the
bathrobe. She couldn’t hide in here any longer.

When she stepped out, she
found a dress laid over one of the two beds. She picked it up. Could have been
a lot worse. It was dark blue, almost navy, longer than cocktail, not quite ball
gown material. Off the shoulder—for once she could be grateful she didn’t
need a bra—and a semi-plunging neckline and backline. Rather more skin
than she would have preferred to show, but, overall, not too bad. And probably
the fanciest, most expensive dress she’d ever worn. Fit for a princess.

Who the dress had belonged
to previously was a question she’d have to ponder. Did Dash’s family, as
royalty, really have spare ball gowns lying around in various sizes for
visitors? Was it because people changed and shredded their clothes? Regardless,
the dress was pretty, and she had no objections.

She slid into it, the fabric
rustling against her skin. Her own bags were God knows where. So, no makeup, no
fancy underwear. She rarely wore makeup, anyhow, and she could live without
lingerie. Good thing it was a nice dress. A pair of shoes, little more than
dancing slippers, sat on the floor beside the bed. They, too, were a
surprisingly good fit.

A light knock at the door
had her clutching the bodice of the dress to her chest.

“Er, come in,” she called.

The door opened, revealing
Dash in...What
was
he wearing?

“Is that a fur cloak?”

He rumbled with laughter. “Yes,
yes it is.”

“I don’t think I want to
ask what it’s made of.”

“You probably don’t.”

“And no shirt?” She
glanced downward, trying not to dwell on his half-naked form, his tanned chest
sleek with muscle. He’d been naked in front of her yesterday, but something
about the way his pants—were they white leather? Good God—clung to
the lower edge of his hips made her mouth dry. She could see every part of his
anatomy outlined through the leather. And she remembered well what he could do
with it.