Free On the Prowl by Patricia Briggs, Eileen Wilks, Karen Chance, Sunny Page B

it.
    Everything else in the house might have changed, but they had left Willie’s pride and joy: the huge hand-carved granite fireplace still dominated the parlor. Isabelle, who liked to be the center of attention, was perched on the polished cherry mantel. Leo was positioned squarely in front of her. Justin stood on his left, Boyd on his right. The other three men Charles had allowed him were seated in dainty, Victorian-era chairs. All of them except for Leo himself were dressed in dark, pin-striped suits. Leo wore nothing but a pair of black slacks, revealing that he was tanned and fit.
    The effect of their united threat was somewhat mitigated by the pinkish-purple of the upholstery and walls—and by Isabelle, who was dressed in jeans and a half shirt of the same color.
    Charles took two steps into the room and stopped. Anna pressed against his legs, not hard enough to unbalance him, just enough to remind him that she was there.
    No one spoke, because it was for him to break the silence first. He took a deep breath into his lungs and held it, waiting for what his senses could tell him. He had gotten more from his mother than his skin and features, more than the ability to change faster than the other werewolves. She had given him the ability to see . Not with his eyes, but with his whole spirit.
    And there was something sick in Leo’s pack; he could feel the wrongness of it.
    He looked into Leo’s clear, sky-blue eyes and saw nothing that he hadn’t seen before. No hint of madness. Not him, then, but someone in his pack.
    He looked at the three wolves he had not met—and he saw what Anna had meant about their looks. Leo was not unhandsome in his own Danish Viking sort of way, but he was a warrior and he looked like a warrior. Boyd had a long blade of a nose and the military cut of his hair made his ears appear to stick out even farther than they really did.
    All the wolves Charles didn’t know looked like the sort of men who modeled tuxedos at a rental shop. Thin and edgy, with no real flesh to mar the lines of a jacket. Despite differences in coloring, there was a certain sameness about them. Isabelle pulled her bare feet onto the mantel with the rest of her and heaved a big sigh.
    He ignored her impatience because she wasn’t important just now—Leo was.
    Charles met the Alpha’s eyes and said, “The Marrok has sent me here to ask you why you sold your child into bondage.”
    Clearly, it wasn’t the question Leo had expected. Isabelle had thought it was Anna, and Charles hadn’t disabused her of the notion. They would deal with Anna, too, but his father’s question was a better starting place because it was unexpected.
    “I have no children,” said Leo.
    Charles shook his head. “All your wolves are your children, Leo, you know that. They are yours to love and feed, to guard and protect, to guide and to teach. You sold a young man named Alan Mackenzie Frazier. To whom and why?”
    “He wasn’t pack.” Leo spread his arms, palms outward. “It is expensive to keep so many wolves happy here in the city. I needed the money. I am happy to give you the name of the buyer, though I believe he was only acting as a middleman.”
    True. All true. But Leo was being very careful how he worded his reply.
    “My father would like the name and the method you used to contact him.”
    Leo nodded at one of the handsome men, who passed Charles with his eyes on the ground, though he spared an instant to glare at Anna. She flattened her ears at him and growled.
    He had been a poor influence on her, Charles thought unrepentantly.
    “Is there anything more I can help you with?” Leo asked politely.
    They had, all of Leo’s wolves, used Isabelle’s trick with perfume, but Charles had a keen nose and Leo was…sad.
    “You haven’t updated your pack membership for five or six years,” Charles said, wondering at Leo’s reaction. He’d been met with defiance, anger, fear, but never with sadness.
    “I thought you might