Hart and Hunter

Chapter 10

Ch. 10: Dane

Ingrid's hair takes longer than anything rightfully should, but when she finally emerges from the salon, beaming with delight, I have to admit she looks good.

I hadn't wasted the three-hour wait, either, and had spent most of it seated at a table in the mall's promenade, researching Rian Halloran and fighting the urge to check in with Julian.

"Just be glad I didn't want box braids," she says when I grumble, nonetheless. "You're lucky extensions don't look good on Wolves."

I laugh; she has a point. As long as something is a natural part of our body, it will Shift with the rest of us. Anything artificial stays as it is. I still remember how hard we'd all laughed the time Sasha, my second youngest sister, tried to Shift after having her nails done. Her natural nails turned into wolf's claws; the acrylic ones stayed glued on top.

How long a Wolf can forego Shifting—for the sake of fashion or otherwise—depends on the Wolf; personally, I can't go more than a few weeks without the mental release; Noah rarely Shifts, while Freya loves the freedom of her Wild form. Ingrid's gone longer than a few months without Shifting plenty of times, but at the moment, I know she's more excited to Run than to have fancy hair.

"You hungry?" I ask as I pack up my laptop and gather Ingrid's collection of shopping bags. "My treat."

"Starving," she groans. "I could eat a cow."

"Will a burger and fries do? There's a good place nearby."

"You won't judge me if I order a double, will you?"

"No more than I'd judge Monty for ordering the fake meat."

She laughs. Despite her dainty figure, Ingrid has the appetite of a linebacker, while Monty bears the dubious distinction of being the only vegetarian werewolf I know.

"Do you miss them? The rest of the Pack?" she asks, as we exit the mall and pass through into the bright sunlight beyond.

I glance at her. She's more comfortable talking about 'wolf-things' in public than I am and had only laughed when I'd warned her to be more careful. She says everyone's too absorbed in their own business to pay any attention to the business of other people.

That's probably true—unless their business is other people.

There are few huntsmen left these days, and it's not something most wolves worry about, but I'm just old enough to remember the last days of a time when secrecy and safety went hand in hand.

"Yeah, I miss them," I say, answering her question as we approach the restaurant. "But it's been almost two decades since I left home. I'm used to being on my own. Or I was."

"It must suck being an alpha without a Pack." She sighs with mock sympathy. "I mean, who do you boss around?"

"I have a pa—I have Julian," I say, as we enter the burger place and join a small group of people standing in line.

"Yeah, but does he listen to you?" She laughs.

"He listens just fine."

"Not the way a Wolf would, though," she counters.

A girl standing ahead of us in line turns and stares at us, and I give Ingrid a warning glance.

"No. But some wolves don't listen so well, either," I mutter under my breath.

She rolls her eyes but takes the hint and doesn't mention wolves again as we order and find seats to wait for our food.

When our order is up, though, and she digs into a huge burger and a tray of fries, she raises the subject once more.