prohibited wolfans from revealing themselves to humans. The only exceptions were if the human was in mortal danger or was the wolfan’s mate.
Nel was neither, so he’d done his best to assure her in his wolf form.
Once she overcame her initial fear, Nel had touched him. Or rather, his wolf. The electric charge from the contact had opened something between them. Whatever it was, the brief experience had felt incredibly intimate.
“Jaxen should’ve been here by now.” Nathan Durrance wore a path between the front door and living room.
“Not unless they drove twice the speed limit, Dad.”
Per protocol, any Wahya returning to the pack had to submit to a complete physical exam given by Doc Habersham, the pack’s physician. Cooter had called nine minutes ago to report they were leaving the clinic with Jaxen, and the drive to Ruby’s house took seventeen minutes.
“Sit down, Nate.” Ruby clunked her empty porcelain teacup against the matching saucer. “You’re making me nervous.”
Tristan stood, collected Ruby’s dishes and walked to the kitchen to pour her another cup. If she hadn’t wanted a refill, she would’ve told him. Her silence was its own reward. It meant he’d done something right. Otherwise, she would’ve given him a tongue-lashing.
In the community, his position as a deputy commanded a certain amount of respect. The same was true of his sentinel status within the pack. However, Aunt Ruby cared little to nothing for either. To her, he was the tagalong little brat she’d had to feed and clothe whenever his parents forgot to do so, which was more often than not.
Truthfully, Tristan didn’t need Ruby, but she was blood-kin. After Jaxen was banished, well, even before that, Tristan had been the one to look after her—not that she would ever admit to wanting or needing his help.
Still, he visited Ruby at least every other day to make her meals and do some cleaning. Mostly she napped on the couch and never did much more than complain.
Ruby’s mate had died when Tristan was a child. Never entirely healthy, she had a predisposition to respiratory problems. Weak lungs, she called it. The older she grew, the more often she got sick, creating yet another job for Tristan.
“Here you go.” He held out the cup and saucer for her.
Outside, car doors closed.
“He’s here!” Ruby grabbed Tristan’s arm and tried to stand.
Hot tea jostled over the edge of the cup and sloshed down on his hand. Biting back a few choice words, he sat the dishes on the coffee table, then helped Ruby to her feet.
Tristan’s dad reached to open the front door.
“My house, my son.” Ruby jabbed her cane at her brother’s backside. “I greet him first.”
Gut tightening in a viselike grip, Tristan gathered Ruby’s discarded dishes and returned to the kitchen. She wouldn’t think any more about hot tea tonight.
The front door creaked open and the porch squeaked beneath the thud of heavy footsteps.
Arms folded over his chest, Tristan leaned against the sink and waited for the show.
It wasn’t a long wait.
“Mama!” Emotion choked Jaxen’s voice. Arms fastened around Ruby’s thin frame, he lifted his mother off her feet.
“You’re home.” She wept into his chest. “You’re finally home.”
A fist-sized lump formed in Tristan’s throat.
“Ah, Mama. Don’t cry.” Jaxen set her down gently. “I’m back for good.”
“Glad to hear it, son.” Nate vigorously shook Jaxen’s hand, then pulled him into a bear hug.
Tristan inhaled sharply and the lump in his throat dropped to his stomach. He couldn’t remember the last time his father showed any affection toward him or called him son.
The buzz in his head drowned out the rest of the homecoming exchanges. He glanced at Cooter and Reed lingering in the doorway. At a curt nod from Tristan, the sentinels silently departed.
“Well, well.” The edge in Jaxen’s voice was expected.
Tristan unfolded his arms and straightened to his full height.
Expression hard, Jaxen strode into the kitchen. “It’s been a long time since I saw your ugly mug.”
Odd thing to say. They were the same height and build, with features so similar they could be mirror images of each other. The only significant physical difference was their eyes. Like Ruby and Nate, Jaxen’s eyes were blue-gray and slightly squinty. Tristan had his mother’s eyes, big and brown.
“I missed you, man.” Jaxen clasped Tristan’s shoulders in a brotherly hug.
Not at all what Tristan expected.
“Who punched you in the face?” Tristan asked, noting the fading bruise beneath Jaxen’s eye. He hooked his finger in Jaxen’s collar and pulled on the shirt. “Why is your shoulder bandaged?”
“Well—” Jaxen slightly lowered his head in a sly shake. “You don’t think the bastards at Woelfesguarde would let me go without a proper send-off, do you?”
“The inmates or the guards?”
Something unsettling glinted in Jaxen’s eyes. “Does it matter?”
It did to Tristan.
“Jaxen,” Ruby called. “Come sit with me.” She swiped the couch cushion beside her. “Tristan, bring us some pie.”
Tristan cut the rhubarb pie into equal wedges, plated three slices and grabbed some forks. He passed out the desserts.
Jaxen shoveled a big bite into his mouth. “Damn! This is the best pie I’ve ever tasted. Did you make this, Mama?”
All smiles, Ruby chuckled. “No. I can’t hold out to bake.”
“I asked Cassie to make it for you,” Tristan said.
“Cassie? Don’t remember her. She yours?”
“Hardly.” Tristan snorted.
“A lot has happened since you’ve been gone.” Ruby patted Jaxen’s leg. “Cassie is the Alphena-in-waiting.”
“Ah, so she’s Mason’s mate.”
“Mason is dead,” Nate said bluntly, and Tristan felt himself flinch.
Jaxen stopped chewing and swallowed. His curious gaze lighted on Tristan and then fell back to his plate. “Sorry, man. I know you two were close.”
Braced for a smart-mouthed jab, Tristan was thrown a bit off-kilter by the condolence. Maybe the hard-core incarceration had taught Jaxen to have a better perspective. At the very least, it had improved his surly
