Free Shiftless by Aimee Easterling Page A

down the window so air could rush over his face, a very dog-like thing to do.  My wolf nudged me, asking for the opportunity to partake of the same heady array of odors from the surrounding farmland, but I denied her the simple pleasure.  We don't have time for games , I warned, returning my wolf's focus to Keith.  Remember the young wolf?  She muttered sullenly, but shifted her attention back to my nephew and away from the scent-laden air.
    "Still having trouble with your darker half?" Wolfie breathed, his voice so low that I was sure Keith couldn't hear.  The guy was three for three today—he'd only asked three questions, but each one hit on an issue I truly didn't want to address.  I was silent, and Wolfie turned to look at me, leaning in a bit so he could speak even more quietly.  "Chase reminded me how strange it is for a female werewolf to be packless."  He tilted his head to the side, inviting me to fill in the blanks, but I just shook my head and looked away.
    My wolf was now toeing the line, staying below the level of my conscious thoughts, but I could feel her attraction to the striking alpha beside me.  As much as I hated to admit it, I agreed—the man was every bit as eye-catching with clothes on as with clothes off, but he was also dangerous, both to me and to Keith.  I couldn't figure out how my father's scouts could have neglected to report on such an obvious threat to my nephew, which made me concerned that there was even more going on than met the eye.  Was Wolfie part of some plan to manipulate me, and if so, toward what end?
    "We're here!" my nephew exclaimed, bouncing out of the front seat before Chase had even turned off the engine.  I had never been so glad to see a drug-rehab clinic.  I unfastened my seat belt, which had started to feel like a torture restraint, and rushed after the teen werewolf.
     
    ***
     
    Cleaning windows brought out my anal-retentive side, so I couldn't really blame Keith for wandering off to work with the guys.  Unfortunately, it didn't make my task any easier to have to keep my nephew in sight while scrubbing down grimy glass.
    "Oops, was that your face?" the kid said.  "I thought it was the window."  Wolfie wiped a dribble of window-cleaning fluid off his forehead and I tensed, waiting for the explosion that was bound to follow.  But Wolfie merely reached calmly behind them for the mop bucket and upended it over my nephew's head, foamy water spilling down over the teenager's ears.  Before long, the two were wrestling on the industrial-tile floor, which, given their soapy exteriors, could loosely be considered mopping.
    "They're like wolf cubs," Chase said, coming up behind me and handing over a paper mug of hot chocolate.  I turned to smile at the beta, enjoying his presence despite myself.  The packless ache in my stomach returned in a rush, and the warm liquid I was sipping didn't do much to dull what was obviously a psychosomatic pain.  "Wolfie told you he's a bloodling," his friend continued, watching the rough-housing in front of us with fond eyes.
    "My little brother was a bloodling," I answered, the non sequitur drawing Chase's gentle attention back to me.  "Father drowned him," I added.  "I always figured there was no way for bloodlings to fit in around humans, or even around other werewolves, but Wolfie seems to manage."  I hated to admit it, but the evidence in front of me also suggested I had been overreacting about the alpha's potential for harming Keith, and I wondered how else I'd misconstrued Wolfie's actions.
    "He takes some getting used to," Chase said thoughtfully, parsing my mood correctly.  He scuffed his boot against the floor before continuing tentatively.  "Maybe you'd like to come and meet the pack sometime.  I think you'd understand Wolfie better if you saw the outcasts he's pulled together into a solid family."
    "Outcasts?"  I was intrigued in spite of myself.  Not that I didn't have plenty of issues of my own without