In the clearing, two of his pack members, Rafe and Corrigan, had shifted and were snarling and snapping at each other. They were panting hard, and Corrigan was bleeding from his flank.
His pack members backed off when they saw him approach, and the shouting died down.
Adrenaline raced through his veins, which sent Roman shifting in an instant, dropping to all fours. His night vision blazed to life and a million smells swirled through his nostrils. The woodsmoke smell from the fire, the tang of pine sap, the unique, musky scent of each pack member…
Rafe lunged at Corrigan again, and Corrigan dodged out of his way. Roman charged into the circle and knocked Corrigan and Rafe sprawling.
He threw back his head and let out an angry howl as they scrambled back to their feet. Then he shifted back into human form, and they did too, hanging their heads in a show of respect. The three men stood there under the moonlight, naked, sweaty and panting. They were half angry, half amused. The pack members and the women they’d brought home from the bar were laughing and enjoying the show. Typical Saturday night with the Kincaid Pack.
“What the fuck, you idiots,” Roman growled. “We have to work Monday.” If they hurt each other too badly it might take a couple of days to heal. Reginald Purcell had brought them up here to do a job, and his barn wasn’t going to build itself. They were ahead of schedule, sure, but Roman expected that of them. It kept them competitive, gave them an edge over other traveling construction crews.
“Rafe stole my girl. I wasn’t done with her yet,” Corrigan grumbled, but he still maintained a respectful demeanor as he faced his Alpha.
“He stole her?” Roman snorted. “Like, she was a car or a chest of drawers, and you owned her? Was your Mate Mark on her neck?”
“Hell, no!” Corrigan looked horrified at the suggestion. “She left my tent to go get us some more beer from the cooler and never came back. I thought she’d been eaten by a bear.”
“It wasn’t a bear eating her,” Rafe snickered.
“Fuck you, asshole! Don’t poach on my territory!” Corrigan barked at him. Then he resumed his lament. “So I go out looking for her and she’s getting busy with Rafe up against a Douglas fir tree.”
“Oh, a Douglas fir. Well, that had to be the last straw,” Roman said, voice laden with scorn. “I mean, a lodgepole pine would have been okay, but a Douglas Fir? Unacceptable. Listen, moron, if you haven’t Mate-Marked her, you’ve got no claim on her.” And if he had Mate-Marked her, he wouldn’t be a member of their pack anymore, but that went without saying. “Rafe, Corrigan, for waking up the entire damn pack with your stupidity, you’re both on latrine duty. Go scrub ’em out, now. They better smell pretty next time I step in there.”
The two let out loud groans of protest but headed resolutely off to the latrines, while the pack let out good natured jeers and their girls clung to them drunkenly and laughed.
The sun was peeking over the horizon now, and the pack members stumbled back to their tents to get dressed or, for those accompanied by women, have sex again.
Now that the fight had been broken up and the adrenaline was wearing off, Roman gave a rueful laugh as he glanced around the campsite, which was currently trashed just like every Sunday morning.
There were empty beer cans scattered around, and bottles, and fast food wrappers. His pack members hadn’t bothered to pick them up and toss them into the steel barrel trash cans that had been set out near the fire pit. A couple of empty coolers were overturned. Avery’s tent had collapsed on top of him and whatever pack groupie he’d brought home—and they hadn’t even woken up. He could hear Avery and the girl snoring underneath the collapsed tent. That happened a lot with Avery; his over-enthusiastic banging was the stuff of legend.
Paul and Leland, two brothers who’d joined the pack six months before, were the only other two pack members who were still asleep; he could hear them snoring in the tent they shared. They hadn’t brought home any women, so he wasn’t sure why they were still so wiped out. He’d go kick their tent in a bit and wake them up if they didn’t come out soon.
Benjamin, the pack beta, trotted up, barefoot and wearing only boxer shorts. A human would have been shivering, but the chill air didn’t bother any of them. Shifters had a high tolerance for cold.
“Want me to start boiling the water for coffee?” he asked.
“Go for it,” Roman said to him with a nod. “You’re the best. I don’t care what anybody says.” But he softened it with a wink.
Edward, a shaggy-headed blond who served as the pack’s cook, wandered over, yawning and scratching his stomach. He cast a glance at the beer cans gleaming in the dirt and gave them a sloppy salute. “To all the dead soldiers,” he said. “Last night was epic. At least I think it was—I can’t remember that much, but something about a blonde.” He let out another huge yawn.