He brushed his long dark hair from his shoulders, never even glancing at the three men who had parted for him, and they all made sure they were doing something else as fast as possible. Despite the cool weather and moist ground, he was barefoot and topless, and showed no signs of either bothering him.
"Go back to your kennel, Randal. I can hear your master calling you," the newcomer said.
The meat mountain known as Randal flinched as if slapped. "You are my Alpha; I obey you in all things."
Matthew turned to stare at Randal. "Do not insult my intelligence. Now, leave my sight."
Randal skulked away and the alpha, Matthew, turned to face Tommy. There was a slight tension between them for a few second, and then they both burst into smiles and embraced one another.
"My brother," Matthew said, slapping Tommy on the shoulder. "You don't come here often enough."
Tommy looked upset, but the smile returned a moment later. "This isn't a social visit."
"I understand, but still, it's good to see you. Although, I'm not exactly dressed to greet new friends." Matthew motioned to his bare torso, which could have been used to break rocks. His gaze settled on me. "You must be Nate. I heard what you did in Canada."
"They were slaughtering people for fun," I said, "I did what needed to be done."
Matthew continued to stare at me and I tensed for a fight.
"No smile or warm hug?" I asked. "How about you flex those pecks for me, I bet it just melts hearts."
"You mock me?" he asked me with a raised eyebrow.
"I mock everyone else, why would you be special?"
Instead of throwing a punch or telling me to fuck off, he laughed and grabbed me in a hug. "Tommy said you weren't one to let stupid shit pass. I'm sorry for winding you up. You are welcome here as if you were one of my pack."
I was genuinely surprised. Alphas don't usually allow anyone from outside the pack to enter when a meet is on. It's considered a secret, and in some cases a sacred, thing. But I got the impression that he wasn't the gambling type, and a quick glance around confirmed that at least four wolves were watching me intently.
"Nice security," I said, breaking up a conversation between Tommy and Matthew.
"How many did you see?" Matthew asked.
"Four," I said.
Matthew raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Most don't manage more than two."
"I'm not like most people," I pointed out.
"That may be true, but you still missed one."
I followed his pointed finger, behind me and noticed the tiny glint of moonlight touching a lens high up in a tree nearly three hundred yards to my side. Sniper rifle. "Impressive."
"Not for anyone who crosses me."
The warning was there for all to hear, but before I could retort he strolled off, waving Tommy and me to join him. "Try not to get into a pissing contest," Tommy said. "He's not a push over."
"I have no intention of getting into any sort of contest with him. I can't help it, but I like the guy."
"He has that effect on people."
"On you, too?"
"It's why I'm not the current alpha. I don't want to have to kill him."
Matthew led us past the clearing and through some more woods, the whole time flanked by two werewolves who did their best to maintain a respectful distance, even with their obvious unease at having newcomers around.
After a few hundred yards of woods, we exited into a second clearing that contained a massive bungalow, which I assumed was Matthew's home, and a short distance away from it was… part of a castle. An actual castle. Admittedly it was only a twelve-foot-high portion of a rampart, but the tower behind it rivalled the trees for height, and it was still a damn castle. And unless you were standing in front of it, you'd never even know it existed.
"Come, this way," Matthew beckoned and we continued toward the bungalow. The interior lights were ablaze, and a few more people, both men and women, were clearly visible inside, with armed guards, male and female, stationed around the property.
"You don't take any chances," I said.
"I have to protect my entire pack," he said. "And it wasn't that long ago my kind was at war."
"That war ended centuries ago," I said.
Matthew nodded to the guards and opened his front door. The warmth from inside was a welcome addition as we all stepped inside and removed our coats, hanging them on pegs beside the front door.
"Our kind fought werelions for millennia," he said. "Far too many died, and there are people on both sides who would like to gain retribution for those they lost."
"It was a needless war, fought by idiots," a man said from the end of the hallway. He appeared to be about forty years old and wore a dark blue suit. He also leaned on a walking stick, an unusual sight for a werewolf. "Matthew gives too much gravitas to what happened. There was no honour or justice in that war, and now it's over. May peace remain always."
"Not everyone thinks as you do," Matthew said. "Hence the protection."
The man scoffed at him. "No one with a brain would attack you. You run one of the largest packs in Europe, and are a member of the Avalon council."
"It's those with only half a brain that I fear most," Matthew said, before turning back to Tommy and me. "Anyway, welcome to my home."
"Thank you," Tommy said. "It's very impressive."
And indeed it was. The hallway was very tasteful, with no dead animals or weaponry displayed proudly-unlike the last alpha's home I'd set foot in. Instead, there were photographs, dozens of them, taken from what appeared to be all over the world. Each one of a different and magnificent view.
"Did you take these photos yourself?"
"I spent many years walking the world,” Matthew said. “I only came back to England a few years ago."
He took us through the door at the far end of the hallway and into an expansive open-planned room. It contained a huge circular coffee table, surrounded by red couches. Bay windows looked out over the front of the property.
"I guess I should introduce myself," the man with the walking stick said.
"I'm so sorry for being rude," Matthew said. "This is Gordon Summers, my pack aide."
I shook hands with Gordon, and then he embraced Tommy, much like Matthew had. "You should not have come, Thomas."
"Tommy," he corrected. "And I didn't have a choice."
"Still, Elijah will discover that you were here, and he will not be happy."
“Who's Elijah?" I asked.
"An asshole," Gordon and Tommy said in unison before laughing.
"We'd best be quick then, hadn't we," Matthew said.
We all took seats on the couches and Gordon left the room, returning with three bottles of beer and a can of coke, which he gave to Matthew. "I don't drink," the alpha said as if he needed to explain his lack of alcohol to us.
I opened my beer and savoured the coldness as it ran down my throat, while Tommy explained the situation to Gordon and Matthew. Once he'd finished, Matthew sighed and rubbed his neck with one hand, a pained expression on his face. "Well, that's going to cause a problem," he said.
"I'm sorry for asking," Tommy said. "But we need to find Neil Hatchell, and you're the only pack for a hundred miles."
" That man is not a member of my pack," Matthew said. He stood, walked over to the bay window, and closed the blinds. "I understand your coming here, but I can't let you just walk around my pack until you get a smell that fits."
"You know him, don't you?" I asked Matthew.
"He's a violent little prick, who would have been skinned alive if I'd have gotten my way. And there's no way on earth I would have allowed him to use my pack to keep him safe."