in the fifteenth century by a former financial minster to King Charles II.”
“And surrounded by perfect powder for skiing. I love this place. It’s tight! You live here all your life?”
“Yes, I was born here.”
“So what’s up with your father? My dad didn’t tell me a lot. He was in too much of a hurry to send me on my way here after getting the call from the pack’s witch. What’s that about?”
“Natalie is our doctor and she’s a witch.”
“Cool. A real witch doctor.”
“I’ve had a medical doctor summoned from Paris to help with the wounded and assess my father’s condition. He should arrive this afternoon if the helicopter can land.”
She paused before a double door fashioned from rich, varnished oak and studded with metal nail heads much like a medieval castle door. “The principal is … under the weather. Natalie isn’t sure what it is, but his health is declining.”
She looked aside and Tryst sensed her unease talking about it. Must be hard for her, virtually running the castle, and having a sick father to worry about. And now the avalanche? The woman exuded strength and endurance, yet she appeared to be losing some steam.
“And I’ll warn you not to press him about his health. Keep your conversation strictly business, or I’ll see that you’re removed from the castle.”
“Good luck with that. A guy can’t even walk through the front door, let alone be removed. But I suspect we’ll get the snow dug away from the storage shed today so we can use the snowplow. I need to get outside to help find that last man. How long is this going to take?”
“I have no idea. I’m as surprised as you my father wants to see you again after you were so quick with him last night.”
“I intend to apologize to him for that, Princess.”
“My name is—”
“I know.” He pressed a hand to the door above her shoulder. “Alexis, the cool, calm beauty who won’t show anyone her eyes because that kind of connection would be too intimate.”
She gaped.
“Guess I hit that one right on the nail, eh?” he said. “But I prefer Lexi, the smart, cautious chick who is going to break down sooner rather than later and give me a big warm smile.”
Her gaping mouth shut and her brows curved downward. About as opposite a smile as she could manage.
He wouldn’t stop working on her. He knew a smile lived somewhere behind those blue mirrored lenses.
“Take me to your leader,” he said with only a modicum of seriousness.
With a perceived roll of her eyes, she pressed a digital combination on the door lock and walked inside the room, announcing her arrival as she did so, “Father, I’ve brought Monsieur Hawkes to see you.”
They passed through the meeting room. The long, polished conference table stretched ten feet before the two-story windows on the far side. A few leather couches sat near the entrance, and a massive field-stone fireplace occupied the entire wall to Tryst’s left. A video conferencing system sat in the middle of the table.
Medieval castle meets hi-tech office. He liked it.
Lexi had disappeared through a side door, which she had left open, but Tryst hung back. Nerves made him shake loose fists near his thighs. He never got nervous. Fear had been beaten out of him in his teenage years. But the place intimidated him. He stood within the inner sanctum of a pack principle—and only last night he may have offended him.
He’d always wondered what it would be like to live within a pack. To live under their rules and society. To have a leader to look up to, and to follow a specific hierarchy that placed each and every wolf in rank.
Growing up with his mother and father, he’d not had anything resembling a pack. They’d treated Trystan as if he were a werewolf from birth, because Rhys had said he just knew. A child born with mixed heritage never really knew what he would become until puberty. Trystan had always related to his father’s gentle werewolf side anyway. Yet heaven forbid, he should ever reveal his paternity. Pack Alpine would make mincemeat out of him.
Worse yet, if they knew his mother was a blood-born vampire, he’d never get out of this castle in one piece. Sure, wolves and vamps worldwide stood on reasonably peaceable terms, but they’d never seen eye to eye. Make that eye to fang. Tryst had learned to be leery around vamp-hating wolves. Hell, he may have a bit of prejudice toward longtooths themselves, but that was changing after meeting his half brother, Vaillant, last year. Vaillant was a blood-born vampire, as well.
Strange family ties.
“Enter.”
At the monotone invitation, Tryst assumed a more menial posture of slightly bowed head and lax shoulders as he entered Principal Connor’s private quarters.
The massive bedroom boasted a four-poster bed clothed in dark browns and blacks. The walls and floors were stone, and medieval-looking tapestry rugs had been scattered here and there. An enormous HD television hung on one wall between a moose head and what appeared to be a boar head sporting massive tusks. Tryst was not keen on killing wildlife, and he kept a cringe to himself.
Over by the windowed wall, Tryst saw the man seated on the overwide windowsill. Sunlight beamed across his figure so he couldn’t make out an expression or posture, and a plaid blanket had been spread over his lap.
Now his good judgment snapped to the fore, and, as his father had directed him, Tryst went down on one knee and bowed his head, offering a respectful greeting. “Principal Connor, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Again. Thank you for your hospitality. Please accept my apologies for being so brisk with you last night. I was more worried about finding the men lost in the snow than protocol.”
“He doesn’t seem so unruly, Alexis.” The principal directed the words at his daughter, and then to Tryst he said, “I forgive you only because my daughter has told me of your relentless quest to help find my pack members. Have they all been accounted for?”
Tryst looked to Lexi, who he expected would have the tally.
“Still one missing,” she offered. “Sandra. Liam believes she was running out on the track right before the avalanche.”
“A female,” the principal said with cheerless calm. “And so young. I had just approved her engagement to Vincent. That is unfortunate.”
Tryst felt the old wolf’s grief. Losing a female—hell, anyone—was a tragedy. And she’d obviously been ready to start a new life with marriage to the scion, probably eager to have kids, and build the pack. Both would be counted as a great loss.
He shouldn’t be here. He could be doing more good outside than on his knees.
“Come, have a seat over here,” the principal said to Trystan. “The sun is high and bright this morning. I love the rare winter sun.”
Casting Lexi a raised brow—had the principal earlier referred to him as unruly?—Tryst accepted
