Comfort the Wolves

3. Whiskey and Motor Oil

Two weeks later, Ivan leaned against Miss Finn's building, ready to visit the altar for their contract.

"Hell's breath. This place reeks," Thomas said. He toed a bottle of forgotten whiskey on the steps and it tipped into the weeds between the pavement.

The smell of cheap liquor made Ivan wrinkle his nose. "And now you've gone and made it worse."

Thomas kicked the bottle into the gutter and joined Ivan against the wall. "The first leave of your career, and this is your destination of choice?"

"William is my destination of choice." Ivan put his hands in his pockets. "The whiskey's a perk."

"You know the whole Pack thinks you're on leave for a woman." He glanced at the door. "Which you practically are."

"Mm," Ivan said. "Maybe I'm here to give you female exposure."

Thomas scoffed. "That is not part of probation. You don't need 'female exposure' to enter White Pine."

The front door opened and Miss Finn emerged, lifting her skirts to step over the threshold. Ivan pulled away from the wall. "Whatever you say, pup. I've smelled your sweat when Kate walks in the room."

"Kate, Delta of White Pine," Thomas said her title like it was a funeral dirge. "That she-wolf is no woman. She's a predator someone laced in a corset."

Ivan almost smiled. "Now, be polite to Miss Finn," he warned, tugging at his cuffs.

Thomas snorted. "What else would I be?"

"You're a big wolf, so you'll be frightening to her," Ivan said. "Be gentle is all."

Miss Finn turned, pausing on the first step as she spotted them. "Ah," she said, with a curl of her lip. "So my guard dogs take up their positions this morning?"

She looked different today: her hair gelled into a crisp coil and her laces tied tight to fit those wide curves into the black dress. No frills, no lace; just a tidy row of buttons up her neck and some stiff panelling in the front.

She descended the last three stairs, wrapping a thinly plaited pink shawl around her shoulders.

Thomas tensed as her smell threaded over the spilt whiskey. Ivan kept his stance calm for the pup's sake, but breathing her in still came as a shock, like being jolted awake from some half-sleep.

"Holy hell," Thomas muttered and turned downwind for some respite. "That's strong."

Her scent burrowed under Ivan's skin and wrapped between his ribs like a net. "Good morning, Miss." He dipped in a bow.

She crossed her arms under her breasts, arching a brow at Thomas' back. "He's massive," was all she said, as if blaming Ivan for it.

Thomas, bless the pup, really was. He loomed over Ivan with a back so broad and hands so thick, he still managed to look square.

"Miss Finn." Ivan stepped to the side. "Allow me to introduce Thomas, a wolf under my charge."

Thomas readied himself with a deep breath and turned for a bow.

Miss Finn watched the pup rise, her eyes honing in on the black strap of a collar around his neck. Damn if she wasn't observant.

"What's there on your throat, then?" she asked him, in that same accusing tone.

Thomas only just caught himself before he bared his teeth. "Pleased to meet you too, Miss."

"It's a shock collar, isn't it?" She leaned forward, her eyes narrowing at the prongs pressing into the pup's neck. "I've heard of those." She turned her frown on Ivan. "They're for wolf criminals."