"Please, please, please let me get as far as Tacoma," I begged the flagging gas gauge of my trusty old lime green Jeep. Experience told me that it was wishful thinking because traffic was bound to hit before Everett. There was undoubtedly a Seattle pack and the fewer the stops in their area, the smaller the chance of getting picked up by the local werewolves.

A schoolbus drew parallel to me in the left lane so a giant cartoon lupine mascot filled my peripheral vision. "Can't stop here, this is wolf country," I muttered.

If I barrelled through, gas up in Tacoma, then I could avoid the dreaded I-5 parking lot in both Seattle and Portland on the Friday of a long weekend. Even though I started out in the British Columbia Rockies my destination was the central Oregon Cascade mountains, it was faster to cut across lower British Columbia, down the I-5 corridor, and then back across the Willamette Valley.

This route also happened to avoid the territory of the famous Adam Hauptmann and his pack. Oh sure, he was the perfect gentleman in the media and his wolves were seemingly well-behaved, but you know what they say about things that are too good to be true. I was submissive and had no delusions about where I'd end up in the hierarchy. Hell, humans had taught me that long before I was Changed two weeks ago. And female werewolves were inevitably absorbed into a pack because some old grand high poobah declared that we couldn't fly solo.

So why was I zigzagging all over the Pacific Northwest instead of rolling over like a good little bitch? Having been submissive for over thirty years, I'd long ago learned avoidance is the best way to avoid conflict. When that didn't work, an acerbic tongue and short temper kept most people from getting too close to abuse that aspect of my personality. Too many people think that passivity is a synonym for doormat.

My luck, or rather fuel tank, ran out in the U District. Red and blue lights lit up the rearview mirror just as I squeezed through a yellow light towards a gas station. "Please don't be for me, please don't be for me," I chanted as I pulled into the lot.

"Of course not, when has everything gone your way on this godsforsaken trip." I lowered my window, plastered a meekly congenial if slightly vapid look on my face, and gripped my license and registration in a sweaty fist.

"Good evening." The officer bent to look in the window. We both stilled the instinct we caught the other's scent. I dropped my eyes immediately, partly to avoid staring at the scar that marred his face, and offered the documentation. Please don't ask any questions, I prayed silently.

"Are you traveling by yourself, Ms. Jones?" Whatever deities that haven't been listening to me can go shove it.

"Yessir. I'm headin' back home to Oregon from visitin' family." Mostly the truth. I did stop in Vancouver to visit my brother. I put the Southern drawl on fairly heavy. The twang and the manners to go with often smooth the way with people in uniform, even if I hadn't lived South of the 44th parallel in fifteen years.

"Oh, you have family here?" Must remain calm. Normal, even breaths will help control the heartrate.

"Vancouver," I smiled. So what if it was Vancouver, Washington and not Vancouver, British Columbia?

"BC?"

"Yessir." His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.

"You must be a member of the Portland pack," he said, eyeing my ID a little too closely for comfort now.

"Yessir."

"I'm just gonna go run these." My dad was a cop and his face would go blank like that whenever he was gathering evidence of my brother's or my misdeeds. This was so many flavours of not good.

The wolf watched him walk back to his car. She liked the way he smelled. Familiar and right. Like family. If she could, she would have trotted right at his heels. At that thought, the human half kicked in and started up the engine, slammed her into gear, and peeled back out towards the onramp.

"Smart. Real smart, what're we gonna do now?" I tapped the steering wheel in a staccato rhythm with my thumbs in time to the rock blaring from the sound system. "No license, no registration, he called your plates in before saying hi, he has your address and…" I grabbed my phone and shut it off. If the conspiracy theorists were right, they could track me via the phone. Is it paranoia if they really are out to get you?

I crossed over to the 405 and stopped in Bellevue for gas, otherwise I'd be making my getaway on foot. I leaned against the Jeep, ignoring the damp that seeped from the cold metal through my clothing, and debated the merits of taking the really scenic route of 101. Or would they expect me to leave I-5 and thus making it the safer choice by hiding in plain sight? My head was starting to hurt from trying to outthink them.

The gas fumes seared my nose so I couldn't smell the driver of the Mazda 3 that pulled up behind me until he approached the squeegee station between us. Studiously avoiding eye contact, I screwed the cap back on and nestled the nozzle back in its hook. Slowly, no sudden moves.

I slid behind the wheel and as the engine turned over a cop car blazed into the station to block me against the Mazda. It looks cool in the movies. Less so if you're the one trapped. I shut off the engine, folded my arms, and leaned back in a huff. My license and registration slipped through the three-inch gap at the top of the window. I snatched them up and tossed them in my purse without pausing in my attempt to mentally set his car on fire. Unfortunately, lycanthropy didn't come with pyrokinesis.

"I take it you know the law." The scarred officer was not referring to any statutes written by man. In the movies fiery explosions usually follow when there are confrontations in gas stations. Too bad life wasn't imitating art in this case. "You can either come and meet our Alpha or I can arrest you and then you can meet him." There was no threat in his words. He sounded as if he were inviting me over for dinner, which might actually be the case. I resisted the urge to hit the steering wheel. It would likely crumple now.

"Fine. So where am I following you to meet your lord and master?"

"Matt here will be your driver," he gestured to the guy who'd blocked me in. Mazda Matt leaned against his car door with his arms folded across his chest. "Shane will follow in your car." A third man I hadn't noticed before was mirroring Matt's pose.

I sighed and looked at my phone. Even if they let me use it, who would I call? Hi big bro, I'm being kidnapped by werewolves. Please send in the National Guard. Tanks work against werewolves, right? I kicked open the door, forcing the cop to quickly sidestep. With a snarl on my lips, I chucked the heavy mass of keys attached to a carabiner at Shane. Damned werewolf reflexes. If he'd been human they'd have struck his temple and probably dropped him like a stone.

Matt came forward as if to take my elbow and escort me. "Touch me and I break your scaphoid. They're a bitch to heal even with regeneration," I snapped. Just because my wolf was happy about getting taken to meet their leader didn't mean I had to be. He drew back his hand, but he did open the door for me and waited till I buckled up before shutting the door. Why buckle up if I could survive a trip through the windshield? It'd still hurt like hell.

"So I heard you're from Portland," Matt said as we merged back onto 405 in an attempt to fill the silence that was thick with my seething.

"Look, I'm no doubt about to get grilled on all this anyway, so let's skip the twenty questions, ok?" He just shrugged and didn't seem put out by my rudeness.

Eventually he turned on the radio. I fiddled with it until finally settling on 101 the End. I tried to suppress a smirk at his frown. Judging by his pre-sets he liked the music just fine. Not so much me taking control of it. If some strange wolf was driving my Jeep, Mazda Matt could suck it up. He should just be glad I didn't put it on country.

Thirty minutes later, due to traffic as opposed to distance, we pulled up in front of an expansive house partially obscured by trees. I shuddered to think at the market value for the area. They seemed to be having a party due to the sheer number of vehicles parked beside the house. Shane pulled up as I trailed behind Matt to the door.

The door opened to a large mudroom with hooks for coats and cubbies for shoes. About half of them were in use. Curiously, there were two utilitarian shower stalls that would have looked right at home in a locker room. I followed Matt's and Shane's examples and removed my shoes, tucking them into one of the shelves.

"We're having a barbecue on Saturday, so a bunch of us are already here to watch the game," Shane explained from behind me as I followed Matt down the hallway. The sounds of men cheering or jeering at a TV screen echoed up from the basement. My human half was worried about being in a house with a bunch of strange men. My wolf on the other hand was curious.

How to play this? Be a general pain in the ass and risk the consequences? Or be a good little submissive female and not only risk being assimilated, but also subordinate to everyone else. I always believed in playing to one's strengths, which meant plan A was go. Besides, I'd never been accused of having the sense God gave a squirrel.

Matt stopped by an open doorway and gestured for me to enter. The man standing behind the desk was certainly not what I was expecting of an Alpha. For starters, he didn't look like an arrogant asshole. Secondly, he was maybe an inch taller than me, and I was considered fairly short. Underneath his wine, or perhaps blood, red dress shirt he was thin. The only hint to his status was the intelligence lurking behind his dark eyes, which I only glimpsed before lowering my eyes.

"Welcome, Eleanor," he came around to shake my hand. I didn't know if it was proper protocol or if he somehow knew that I was recently Changed and was sticking to familiar, human customs. His grip was firm, not crushing like some men, and not too gentle as if he was afraid of breaking me. It was a bit startling to actually be able to shake his hand properly instead of my hand simply being engulfed by his as was the case with most men.

"I am Angus Hopper, Alpha of the Emerald City Pack. You've made good time considering you left Revelstoke early this morning." Oh that was neatly done, putting me in my place by hinting that you know more than I suspected, but not exactly how much. "Have a seat," he leaned his backside against the desk and gestured to one of the comfortable looking chairs. It was an order, not an invitation.

"Been sittin' in a car so long I'd rather stand if's all the same." Eyes down, properly polite, and heavy on the Southern accent to hide any attitude.

"I imagine," he said with a small smile. "So tell me how you came to be living in Portland, a city currently without a pack." Crap on a cracker, there's no lying my way out of this one. How does a city that size not have a werewolf pack?

"I was Changed two-weeks ago," I sighed and sat in the other chair, the one he had not indicated, so he had to shift slightly to face me. If he didn't want small acts of defiance, then he shouldn't have multiple options available. "I was solo hikin' in Glacier National Park an' doin' a little boulderin'. One slip an' I ended up with a broken spinal column at the bottom of a ravine. By the time John found me, it was Change or die. Chose what I thought was the lesser o' two evils. Stayed with him through the full moon an' then headed home."

"Does John have a last name?" Angus asked with a frown. My wolf worried that he was displeased with us. I worried what that might mean for us if he was.

"He said he's old an' the old ones don't like to give their last names." I had to consciously square my shoulders, which had rounded when I wasn't looking. He nodded as if the answer wasn't a surprise to him.

"And he was willing to let you go so soon?" he asked with an arch of an eyebrow. It really should be illegal for such a simple gesture to lend an irresistible quality when he was already handsome. Or that could have just been my imagination because it was hard to read expressions from peripheral vision.

"Not as such no," I admitted reluctantly. "I waited till he went out huntin' then I booked it back down the mountain."

"Why did you feel the need to run?" he asked softly. Even if I was brave enough to look him in the face I doubted that it would give any clue as to what that tone was in his voice. I wasn't necessarily a coward, but I was never comfortable discussing my personal life, let alone with strangers. Focusing on the rug, or the bookcase, was easier than looking at him.

"I got a job to get back to an' I really wasn't fond o' the idea o' bein' stuck in the backwoods with a crazy old mountain man who's also a werewolf." He was silent, obviously waiting for me to continue. "I got the feelin' that even if I was fully in control he wouldn't let me leave."

Angus sighed and folded his arms in thought. "Do you know where John lives?"

"There's a map in my glove box. I could show ya the route to the cabin we stayed at. There're no roads, an' it's a bit of a hike in." Despite my best intentions, I was cooperating. The Alpha obviously did not like what he was hearing, but it was rapidly becoming apparent that I was not his quarry so I was more than happy to keep him on that trail. He caught the attention of either Shane or Matt behind me, and a moment later a door shut. "But I did get the feelin' that he moves around a lot."

"Eleanor," he began.

"Ellie, please." Angus did frown at the interruption, but hearing my horrible legal name, which the cop must have told him, was like having my fur rubbed the wrong way.

"Ellie, you're not in any trouble," he said soothingly, as if I were a startled horse that might bolt. Perhaps that analogy wasn't too far off the mark. "The manner of your Change was highly unusual, bordering even on breaking our laws."

"The law says that no one may be Changed without their explicit permission. I was coherent enough to give it." Ha, that caught him off guard. That's right, the newbie knows the rules of the game. I might not remember anything else around the accident, but things like a weird, hairy guy offering to save your life by turning you into a monster tends to stick in a person's memory.

"That is true, yes. However, the second law is that before someone is Changed they must undergo rigorous counseling and testing to determine whether or not they can become stable wolves," the Alpha explained. I forgot for a moment and stared into his dark eyes in shock that someone would make the choice deliberately rather than out of desperation. Then I remembered all of the disease riddled bodies I had seen in my career. I quickly looked away once the surprise faded.

"A newly Changed wolf lacks control for their first few full moons and requires supervision for the first year," he continued as if there was no breach of protocol. "A pack is necessary to guide new wolves." He sounded like he had given this speech many times before. Luckily, he didn't succumb to dry monotones.

"Which's why I was goin' to pack up an' move somewhere rural enough I could run off a little steam," I countered. "Nurses are always needed everywhere."

"This is not just a 'little steam,' pup." I suppressed a flinch at his growl. He took a deep breath, whether to calm himself or to continue his lecture I didn't know because the sound of the door opening interrupted. Shane handed Angus the familiar map, folded in my own fashion that in no way resembled its original creases. Those things are impossible to refold properly, anyway. After carefully moving a few items, he unfolded the map over his desk and handed me a pencil.

"Here's the trail head." I pointed to the circle already marking the spot on Highway 1. "He follows the main trail through this valley." I pointed at the trail, which was already marked from my planning before the trip from hell. The accent softened as I talked and forgot to maintain it. "At about here he branches off at different angles each time so that his trail, not being well worn, is hard to pick up until you're further out and know what you're looking for." I marked an X where I'd gotten lost and decided to just keep following the river down until I found either a trail, humans, or the highway. "Follow the river up and at the very edge of the park he's got a cabin right about here." I drew a paw print on the spot. "With the climb in elevation, it would've taken me about two days before… before. Downhill with a light pack, I made it in around eight hours."

"Does that say 'Dogtooth Range'?" Shane asked with a hint of a wry smile.

"Could've been worse. He could've gone for the really obvious with either Grey Fang or Fang Rock," I smirked and pointed out the so named peaks on the other side of the park. He snorted a chuckle.

"You didn't go to the authorities." It was a statement, not a question.

"And end up in a secret government facility?" I scoffed. "No thank you."

"Where did you stop to rest?" asked Angus.

"I didn't."

"Fatigue can be as dangerous as alcohol," he frowned.

"Have caffeine, will travel," I quipped.

"Even though your endurance has improved, you still need rest. Exhaustion erodes control." And back into lecture mode.

"Like I said, I'm a nurse. Pulling doubles, even triples, isn't unusual," I countered.

"You passed through the territories of four different packs." Someone had probably pulled my credit card history to follow my route in retrospect. That was fast work, and most definitely illegal. "How did you avoid detection?"

"Didn't stop more than was absolutely necessary," I shrugged. "And when I did, I tried to not get out of the car. Drive-thru, avoided pumping my own gas where I could."

With a few taps Angus called someone on his cellphone. He had to swipe his fingerprint to unlock it, first. It even had one of those heavy duty cases, which was probably a good investment for a werewolf. "Hello, Angus." It was still weird how much my hearing had improved, especially back in civilization.

"Hello, Bran." Aw, son of a biscuit. I really did not want to show up on the Marrock's radar. Angus gave a concise report of everything that had happened to me since the accident, as far as he knew, including the pathetic getaway attempt. I sat back down for the uncomfortable reprise.

"Send me the map and I'll have Charles look into it." I wasn't certain how I felt about having just signed John's death warrant. The old werewolf wasn't too specific, just that any time the Marrock sent someone blood was spilled. "How is she getting on with your pack?"

"She's a touch overwhelmed so I thought it best to wait before introducing them en masse." I glared at Angus from under lowered lashes, which is harder to do than you would think.

"If she chooses, escort her to Eugene. Otherwise I will send someone to fetch her here until she decides where to settle," Bran said. My scowl deepened and I opened my mouth to tell them exactly what I thought of their plans. Shane shook his head almost imperceptibly in warning, though there was more empathy than condemnation in the movement.

"Please give my greetings to Anna and Charles."

"I will." The call abruptly ended from the other end. Not one much for goodbyes our King of the Werewolves. Angus took a couple of pictures of the map and sent them off with thumbs flying across the screen fast enough to make a teenager jealous. Then he did the most supernatural act I'd seen out of a werewolf yet: he carefully folded the map along the original fold lines before handing it back to me.

I doubled it over and shoved it in my back pocket as I stood. "If you'll excuse me, I would like to make it home in time for my shift tomorrow night." Although I kept my eyes on the bookshelf, I could feel his stare boring through me till my knees threatened to turn to Jell-O. Locking one's knees is a surefire way to pass out eventually, but is effective in the short term.

"I'm afraid that you will have to change careers. Even old wolves can have problems around so much blood and the vulnerable." The bastard actually managed to sound regretful.

"I have neither the money nor the inclination to go back to school. Not to mention I'm a little old for that." Must not growl at the Alpha I mentally chanted for the benefit of my human half.

"Loans can be arranged, and I've known werewolves who were alive when the Magna Carta was signed and earned their doctorate two or three times over." He sounded so cool and collected as if we weren't discussing what was the beginning of what was theoretically to be my extremely long life. "The more immediate issue is how much control you have."

"If I don't get my act together by this time next year I'm put down." Don't know why I spared him when it would have been so much more fun to watch him squirm.

"Not only that, but you must be able to shift form and back at will." People go through that much pain willingly? "New wolves need a pack to teach them control and to prevent unnecessary bloodshed when the wolf takes over until control is regained. We cannot afford one mistake lest we all disappear into secret government facilities at best, or hunted down and exterminated at worst." Angus' voice achieved a deeper timbre that coiled through the room like some living thing as he seemed to be losing patience. "You will stay the night here. In the morning Shane and Matt will escort you to Eugene to be presented to the pack there." Ooh, presented like a gift. Who could resist such a command? Oddly enough, my wolf did not like this plan either.

"And if I don't want to join a pack?" It's difficult to arch an eyebrow effectively while avoiding eye contact. But not impossible.

"That is not an option," he shook his head. "Even if you were not so new, our females are so rare they not allowed to become lone wolves." That's what John had said, but I hoped that it was a lie to keep me from leaving. The whole damn lot of them were so possessive it's a wonder they even realized they were in the 21st century. And I didn't belong to anyone. Not any more.

"Fine. But I have driven from here to Eugene many times so I think we can dispense with the escort." I waved vaguely over my shoulder to where Shane still lurked by the door.

"That is non-negotiable. As a dominant male and even more so as an Alpha I have a responsibility to see a submissive female delivered safely to another pack." Oh bloody hell. John was right. They could tell from one's energy, matter how much I tried to hide behind my sass. "Not all dominants that you might meet along the way would be as tolerant of your attitude as I am."

"These are more rules from on high," I said flatly and folded my arms. "Tell me, is His Furriness one of those at the signing of the Magna Carta? No wonder ya'll's thinking's so medieval."

Angus grabbed me by the back of the neck and snarled in my face. Reflexively, I stiffened and closed my eyes to avoid looking at him. His grip was tight, but not painful. One quick twist and he could snap my neck. I was pretty sure that was one injury from which there was no recovery.

"The Marrock set down our laws for reasons you cannot yet comprehend. You don't have to understand our ways yet, but before God you will show respect," he snarled. There wasn't anything I could say to that, so with an involuntary shudder I went limp in his grasp. Well, there were things I could say, but self-preservation stayed my tongue. After a minute, he released me, stepped away, and turned his back. The strength I had just experienced first hand was evident in the taut lines of his wiry shoulders.

My heart pounded in my throat while in the back of my head my wolf howled her anguish at having been chastised. That was precisely why my self-preservation went right out the window. "My respect is earned, not freely given. If I'd realized that my choices were which pack I was going to be the lowest bitch in, I'd have told John to bugger off." At least he'd make sure that it was quick and clean.

The Alpha breathed deeply and was quiet for exactly ten seconds. Basic relaxation techniques to manage the beast within? And they thought they could teach me something in that area? When he was done, but not noticeably calmer, he turned around to lean against the desk again. "We have a rigorous screening process to avoid situations like this. Dominant lone wolves are the last people who should be teaching pack structure to a submissive female."

"Please stop using that term."

"'Female'?"

"Used as an adjective, it refers to a person. As a noun, it denotes something less than human. An animal." Like breeding pairs. Good thing I never wanted to procreate anyway.

"Get used to the terminology." If he were human, he'd have developed a new frown line from this conversation alone. "In the constant struggles for dominance, females and submissives are the center of a pack since they do not rise in rank, except for when their mate does in the case of females." If I didn't like 'female,' I despised 'mate,' which seemed a ridiculous term for a species that couldn't bear children. "With submissives, dominants don't have to constantly watch their back. And the pack will unite to protect these weaker members." Oh if he thought I was weak, he had another thing coming. "Female submissives are so valued that any pack would welcome you." 'Submissive' as a noun was definitely not an improvement. "But none would tolerate your disrespect for long."

"That's exactly why I should just be on my merry way," I said brightly. "I'm really more trouble than I'm worth."

"Nice try," he smirked. "Dinner is in thirty minutes. You'll want to freshen up." True to my nature I wanted to deny hunger despite not having eaten since well before the border crossing. I'd worn the same clothes for the past twenty-four hours straight, which included a frantic run down a mountain through unfamiliar woods, and my hands still smelled like gasoline.

I was still noticing just how many interesting smells I was covered in when a tall, perky blonde swept through the door. She must have practically been listening down the hallway, not that, that was necessary. Everyone in the house had probably heard me mouthing off. I'd forgotten about that. Great first impression.

"Please show Ellie to the guest suite." Mickayla gave a sloppy salute, earning a scowl from her fearless leader, then cocked her head in silent invitation to follow her.

"You're up on the second floor," she said as she led me upstairs. "Hopefully you're not afraid of heights after your accident," she grinned.

"Are you kidding? I've always wanted to try free climbing, but was too scared. Now I totally want to," I said.

"Just don't mention that to any of the guys or they'll have kittens." Her golden laugh bounced through the stairway.

"Now I'm picturing a bunch of them at the base of a cliff with a giant trampoline like in cartoons when there's a fire," I chuckled and she joined me.

"This is you," she waved a welcoming arm through an open doorway. "Matt already brought your backpack and duffel up." My bags were indeed sitting on a low, wide dresser against the nearest wall. The queen bed with its elegant down comforter faced the door. A door on the right led to a bathroom, although I had no idea how I was going to be able to do my business in a house full of people who could hear through walls.

"Thanks."

"No worries. You need anything you just give a shout. Wait, you're new. No actual shouting necessary, just a sort of 'hey' so we know you're not talking to yourself," she winked.

"Um, Mickayla?" She turned back to me. "What's it like being in a pack?"

She stepped into the room with a small smile and shut the door behind her. "I don't know this John, but sometimes wolves go lone because they can't handle being in a pack."

"Yeah, he did seem more than a little biased." I dug out the Ziploc of toiletries and the bundle that was the last clean outfit I'd originally saved for the last day of the drive home, but didn't dare stop long enough along the way to change.

"Think of a healthy pack more as one big family." Mickayla flopped onto the bed with one leg tucked up under her, but still kept her voice low enough to not carry. "Complete with the usual amount of dysfunction and bickering. So they're really a bunch of brothers, uncles, and cousins who are all trying to protect the little sister."

As she talked, I leaned against the bathroom doorway and started to brush my teeth. They had fuzzy sweaters from the energy drinks I'd downed to stay awake. "But then again, I'm married," she continued. "If you're single then the unmated ones will all come sniffing around."

"It's not that bad!" she laughed at my expression of dawning horror. "Even if any of them would push their luck and call down the wrath of their Alpha, the closest dom would thrash them, or if they couldn't, tag someone in who could. Mind you, I'm only talking about the Emerald City Pack. I was Changed just two years ago because my mate, Matt, was already a wolf. Before that there were no other girls for I don't know how long."

"They weren't kidding when they said that women are rare," I said around the toothbrush and foam that probably made me look rabid. She laughed again, although it was hard to tell whether it was at my surprise or the toothpaste.

"We're more functional than not here. But there are some stories out there of Alphas who went bad. I don't know much about the Eugene pack, but I haven't heard any horror stories either," she shrugged. "You know, it's funny, women are supposed to be huge gossips, but most werewolves are men and we all gossip worse than any housewife." I laughed and promptly choked, so I shut the bathroom door and started the shower as I finished brushing.

"You're going to need to get over that modesty." Mickayla's voice was easily heard through the door and over the running water.

"Oh?" I asked archly. She couldn't see the glare through the door as I undressed.

"It's incredibly painful to shift while wearing clothes. So pack runs, full moons…"

"I've just been told I have to switch careers, move to a new city, am no longer allowed to leave town without a babysitter, and when it comes to my place in a pack my only option is which one do I want to be at the bottom of the pecking order in. Oh, and all the single guys will be eyeing me like a juicy steak. Now you're telling me I have to become an exhibitionist? No thank you, I'm going to maintain whatever little control over my life I have left." It took all my willpower to not punch something. If I had to move and look for work there was no way I could afford to replace anything in this bathroom.

"If the pack's good, you'll be on a pedestal more or less, not the low man on the totem pole."

"Great, I always wanted to be Princess Peach stuck in the castle," I muttered sarcastically. "I'll see you downstairs."

"Ellie, I promise that it's not as bad as it seems," she said before leaving.

I stood lost in thought in my office for some time after she left, bathed in the complex layers of smells that confirmed her story. Mountain air, evergreens, sweat both old and nervous, gasoline, fast food, and no small amount of stress. Amidst the melange was a thread of fear. If it was any stronger, I would have called Alan, the pack's only submissive, to come and help calm her. But under the circumstances, her fear was to be expected. And he was working tonight.

Tension had been running high in the pack ever since we went public, and more so since submissive to ease the strain, and a second medic would not go amiss. Her presence would stir up a rash of dominance fights among the unmated males until she starting seeing someone. That is, if she could be housebroken. Time would show whether her defiance was born of ignorance or emotional pressure. Her knowledge of our primary laws would suggest the latter, though I preferred to avoid premature conclusions.

A younger wolf, or one who wasn't as high in the hierarchy, might find such calculations cold, especially in regards to a submissive female whose Change had been particularly traumatic. But you don't get to be an old Alpha without assessing the strengths and weaknesses of your pack and determining how they can best be used.

As much as I was loath to let her leave, even if the Marrock hadn't mandated, protocol and courtesy demanded that the Eugene pack have right of first refusal. Appropriate that Eugene was also referred to as the Emerald City, but we had claimed the name before the Portland pack had relocated there. Ordinarily I would have my second, Tom, call to arrange things with the other pack, but the unique situation and the fact that he was on duty called for a personal touch, even if my third, Shane, wasn't preparing for the trip. Besides, their Alpha, Colin, would be pissed if I dropped this grenade, no matter how cute or useful she was, in his lap without warning. No, not a bomb. Panicked ferret, maybe. Still not pleasant, but not as disastrous. And they could be cute, when they weren't baring their teeth.

Stifling a sigh, I found Colin's cell number in my phone and called him up.