Aleron: Chosen Champions Book Three, page 2
“I’m not cranky!”
From the echoing of Logan’s voice, he’d already made his way downstairs to the warehouse where the pack held self-defense classes for members of the local community.
Aleron wanted to continue talking to them, but his phone beeped, indicating an incoming call. “Gotta go. Be back as soon as I can book a flight.”
“’K,” Bailey said. “Email me the details, and we’ll have someone pick you up.”
Aleron knew better than to argue. He grinned and ended the call, switching the camera over so he now saw his cousin’s face instead of his packmate’s.
“What?” Aleron whined.
Victor’s glower could mean any number of things. His adorable toddler, Gus, could have climbed a tree again. As a red panda, he tended to climb lots of things. It could have been a medical issue with his other son, Jett, who’d had to undergo several surgeries to repair damage to his legs before they’d adopted him. Hell, he could just be annoyed with his giant bear of a mate, who kept Victor on his toes.
“Where are you?” Victor growled.
“Uh…” Aleron moved the phone closer to his face so Victor couldn’t make out the surroundings behind him. “France. You know this. What’s up?”
“You haven’t updated me on the contracts. How are the negotiations going? And why the hell are you outside? And is that an abandoned château behind you?”
Aleron sighed. “The contracts are signed. Can you see if Ollie can get me on the next flight out of here?”
Victor blinked. “What?”
“The next flight? I’ll even forego first-class if it helps. I’m ready to come home.”
“Looking now!” Ollie yelled from the background, and Aleron grinned.
“How… no, Ollie, stop. He can’t have—”
“Ollie, don’t stop. Book it. Contracts are signed, Vicky my boy.”
Victor’s eyes narrowed and did that scary ice-cold thing only Victor had mastered. “What did you just call me?”
“Vicky. My new pack calls me Alley, short for Alley Cat. Cute, right? So I figured you needed a new nickname too. It’s all the rage.”
“If one person calls me Vicky, I will decapitate you.”
“Pfft.”
“Found you a flight,” Ollie yelled. “Can you be in Paris in four hours?”
“I’ll make it happen.”
“Details in your email. Glad you’re coming home. Jack, I mean Scout, says Bailey’s been missing you something fierce.”
It was cute that Ollie referred to his brother by the nickname Logan gave him. Then again, Aleron still forgot half the time that Jack was actually Scout’s real name. What could he say? They were a nickname-giving kind of pack, even down to the mysterious “Oracle” who guided them on their missions.
None of them knew who the oracle really was, but then again, they hadn’t had a ton of work to do since the whole magical fiasco of a few weeks back that resulted in Gideon’s mate, Taj, being tortured by a mysterious mage.
Luckily, Aleron had provided some of his powerful griffin blood to Gideon, who kept Taj alive until the spell was broken. It had been a close call. And even though they all wanted to hunt down Nio, Aleron couldn’t deny that a break in all the action and near-death experiences was nice.
“How the hell did you get the contracts signed so fast?” Victor asked.
Aleron grinned and wiggled his fingers in front of the camera. “Magic. Gotta go.”
He ended the call before Victor could protest and made his way back to the estate agent, who patiently waited in front of the château. He gave the place a last look, contemplated buying it anyway, and then decided he’d better listen to Bailey and leave it for another time. They had their own YouTube-worthy drama already. They’d get a million views of Pack Diaries, if, you know, they were allowed to show humans they actually existed.
He rushed back to get his luggage, then borrowed another of his cousin’s chauffeurs to give him a lift into Paris. He made the flight with minutes to spare, and Ollie had even managed to get him into first-class. He couldn’t wait to get home.
2
SPENCER
Spencer leaned back in his chair and stretched, his neck and back protesting how long he’d remained in the same position. He glanced at the clock, realizing it had been a few hours, then looked at the calendar and gulped. A few hours plus a few days. The last time he’d checked, it was only Monday.
Aleron always kept the days marked off on the wall calendar so he knew what day it was when he emerged from his research frenzies. Spencer’s brain just worked that way. He blocked out everything and focused until he’d followed his thoughts all the way to the end. Sometimes he had to dig his way out of rabbit holes to get back to the point, but he never knew where a research thread would lead until he’d unpicked it completely.
It took time, but he did a good job. There weren’t many problems of the magical variety Spencer couldn’t figure out. Except this time, he kept running into dead end after dead end. Although his energy waned, his determination didn’t. He would figure out what the mysterious runes meant.
When the door opened, Spencer couldn’t help but smile. Aleron carried a plate of food in his hand and had a wide grin on his face.
“Hey,” Spencer said.
His voice sounded raspy and dry. He must have hunkered down for days. Not that the pack seemed to mind. Aleron and his pack were interesting for a lot of reasons. The primary one, for Spencer, was that being around them didn’t bother him much. He preferred isolation at his cabin, like most witches, but the pack, unlike most packs, seemed to appreciate his need for alone time. From his experience, packs spent an inordinate amount of time together. Constantly surrounded by people who touched him was Spencer’s worst nightmare.
“Did you miss me?” Aleron asked.
Spencer frowned. “Miss you?”
The smile on Aleron’s face dimmed. “I’ve been in France for a week.”
Spencer’s frown deepened. “No, you haven’t. You’ve been here. Talking to me and bringing me sandwiches. And you got me The Journal of Egyptian Archaeology.”
Aleron didn’t reply. He didn’t need to, really. Spencer felt like an ass after seeing the look on his face.
“You’ve actually been gone? I’m sorry.”
“You focused on the task. Any progress?” Aleron asked.
Spencer shrugged, and his shoulders ached as he moved them. He rolled them around a bit to stretch, earning him another frown from Aleron.
“No progress,” Spencer said, realizing he’d never answered Aleron’s question. “I don’t understand. None of it fits together, and most of the runes aren’t in my books. It’s like… someone played with them, mixed them up, and changed their original intent. Unless I can find all the original runes hidden within each of the new ones, I won’t know what the possibilities could be.”
Aleron moved closer and put his hands on Spencer’s shoulders. He squeezed them, his thumbs digging into the tight muscles. “You need to take a break. When did you last get some fresh air?”
Spencer honestly couldn’t answer the question, so he didn’t even try. Instead, he groaned at the sensation of Aleron’s hands on him. “That feels good.”
Another oddity, and one he’d not taken the opportunity to figure out. Why was it suddenly okay for Aleron to touch him? And not only okay, but good? He definitely needed to spend some time thinking of it, but not now. He couldn’t let himself get distracted from the puzzle he’d been brought in to figure out. For now, he’d accept this strange development and process it once he’d solved the first.
Aleron kept squeezing, and Spencer relaxed into the touch. His eyes burned and his back ached. He couldn’t even feel his legs. He must have been sitting for hours.
“I think I need a break,” Spencer whispered.
“Yeah, Bailey tried to get you to take some, but you weren’t exactly willing to listen.”
Spencer had learned not to be embarrassed at the way his brain worked. Still, he felt a brief twinge at Aleron’s words. “Sorry.”
“For what? Helping my pack? Don’t be. We wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself, though. Come on. We’ll grab some water and head up to the roof. Get you some fresh air and check out the stars.”
“Stars?” Spencer glanced at the clock again. There shouldn’t be stars out at this time of morning.
“It’s nine in the evening,” Aleron said. He brushed his thumb over Spencer’s neck.
“Oh.”
Aleron led them to the kitchen, where Bailey had set up his laptop to work on some mystery project he and Ashley had cooked up. Spencer had already learned not to ask. They’d tell the pack when they were ready, and then Aleron would tell him because the likelihood was, Spencer wouldn’t notice.
“We’re taking a break to go to the roof and get some fresh air,” Aleron said.
“That’s great,” Bailey said. “I have some cold water in the drinks fridge and some snacks, too, if you’re hungry.”
Spencer’s stomach growled. “I’m, uh, sorry if I wasn’t…” He really didn’t know how to finish the statement.
“You were fine. Focused. Plus, you like my sandwiches, so that’s a win.”
“Oh,” Spencer said. “I thought Aleron was bringing me sandwiches.”
Bailey snickered. “Nope, that was me.” He shot a look Spencer didn’t understand toward Aleron, though. Pack communication was so hard to comprehend. They were so closely bonded it took little more than a look to communicate a meaning.
Being a witch, especially one without traditional powers, meant Spencer did better on his own. He’d filled his land with spells, runes, and the power of his intent. The power the mages the pack usually dealt with was different. Some would call theirs real, where what Spencer and his fellow witches did was more religion or spiritual practice.
He didn’t really care what they called it. His power was his all the same, and a deeply ingrained part of his life. In fact, he’d been away for too long; his body needed to be back on his land. Being away and out of his routine made it difficult for Spencer to function, and his land needed him to care for it.
Even so, he followed Aleron to the roof and took in deep breaths of the crisp night air. He stared at the stars, connecting the dots of the constellations in the game he’d played in his mind since he was a child. When he realized he’d probably been quiet for too long, he glanced over and found Aleron staring up at the sky as well.
“Sorry.” Spencer wondered why he needed to apologize to Aleron’s pack so often. He thought he was long past worrying about how everyone else felt about him. His brain was what it was, and honestly, it was his best asset. He loved the random, wandering thoughts that led him to new ideas and ways of thinking.
“For what?” Aleron said, letting out a long yawn while passing over a bottle of water. “Oh, I had Bailey pack for you. I figured you wouldn’t have time, but I thought we’d leave early so we could get to all the prewedding events.”
Spencer frowned. “The what?”
“My uncle’s wedding? The one we’re leaving for tomorrow?”
“I’m not going to a wedding,” Spencer said.
Aleron paused. “Logan said he spoke to you about it.”
Spencer took a drink of water, trying to recall any such conversation. He did vaguely remember something about an important griffin function and someone coming in to measure him. “Oh.”
“Logan doesn’t want to leave anyone behind, even though Dasan and Joey can’t come. But really, Spencer, you need a break. You look like you haven’t slept in the week I’ve been gone.”
Spencer glanced at the stars again. Truth be told, he probably hadn’t. He kept finding new ideas, paths to follow, but they ended up leading nowhere. The challenge, although exciting in some ways, was frustrating as hell in others. The fresh air cleared Spencer’s thoughts, which, he realized after a moment, was exactly what he needed.
A new start. It took him another minute to process what Aleron said, though. “A wedding?”
Aleron clinked their water bottles together. “Yes.”
“I was getting close to a breakthrough,” Spencer said.
“Were you, though?” Aleron didn’t sound at all accusatory with the question, which surprised him. Spencer expected something after so long. Disappointment? Annoyance? He heard neither in Aleron’s voice.
“The answer is there,” Spencer said. “I’m just not seeing it.”
“Step away for a few days and let all those lingering thoughts drift away. We’ll work on it together when we get back from my uncle’s. I think you’ll like it there. It’s a beautiful island.”
“Island? I’m not great around people. I should probably stay behind and work.”
“I don’t think either Gideon or Logan would like that idea, and I can practically hear Bailey’s veto from here.”
Spencer scowled. “I can make my own decision.”
“True. But you’re hanging out with a pack now. That comes with a lot of politics.”
“More like nosiness.”
Aleron snorted, and Spencer couldn’t help but smile.
“I’m telling Bailey you said that.”
“He would agree with me,” Spencer said. The alpha-mate was nothing if not completely aware of the goings-on in his pack. Spencer might not be great at reading people, but of Bailey’s dedication to his pack, he had no doubts.
“Likely. What if I tempt you with a treat?”
The teasing tone caught Spencer’s attention. Aleron’s eyes shimmered with delight, and it sent a strange tendril of feeling down to Spencer’s stomach. “What kind of treat?”
Aleron leaned closer, and Spencer’s heart beat faster. “I have a library. An extensive library. And so does my uncle. So many books. Old, rare books that few people are given access to.”
Spencer gulped. “I’ve heard of the griffins’ libraries.”
“And you can see it firsthand… if you come with me.”
“I don’t like crowds,” Spencer said, attempting to negotiate even though he’d deal with a crowd to get his hands on the legendary library the griffins owned.
“I’ll do my best to limit the time you have to spend in them.”
Spencer knew that was the best Aleron could offer, considering they were going to a wedding. “Deal.” He reached out his hand, and Aleron took it. They shook to seal their pact, and Spencer held on. He stared down at their hands, wondering why he couldn’t seem to force himself to let go. Aleron didn’t pull away either.
Their fingers were a study in contrasts. Aleron’s were long and pale against Spencer’s thick and work-roughened ones. He ran his thumb over the top of Aleron’s smooth knuckles. Aleron shivered in response.
What was it about Aleron that fascinated him? If he weren’t in the middle of an important research mission, Spencer would dedicate time and thought to figuring it out. Something about Aleron was different, but he didn’t know what it could be. For one, Spencer actually liked him, which was weird because he had very few friends and preferred it that way.
“What’s on your mind?” Aleron whispered.
Spencer looked up and met those twinkling golden eyes. They intrigued him so much. “I think you’re my friend,” Spencer confessed. The admission shook him, but Aleron simply tightened his hold on Spencer’s hand and moved closer.
“I am. Let’s go make sure you’re packed and ready to go in the morning. We can snag a few snacks from the kitchen when we go past. I had a long flight, and airplane food is inedible.”
“I’ve never been on an airplane,” Spencer said as he followed Aleron back into the warehouse.
“Then you’re in for a treat tomorrow. My uncle is sending his plane to get us.”
Spencer gulped. “That’s nice of him.”
“Yes, it is.”
Bailey looked up with a smile when they entered the kitchen again. “Logan and the others will be back soon. Apparently, a guy used some really effective makeup so he looked like a wolf. Funny, when you think about it. Of course, I’m sure Logan used the alpha voice on him anyway, and he probably wet his pants before the cops took him away for disturbing the peace.”
“There’s a reason they call it lunacy,” Spencer said. He opened the fridge and found the clear bin with his name on it. He pulled it out and explored the contents.
“What’s that?” Aleron asked.
“I made him a bin. A trick Sam Jerrick taught me. Anytime he’s hungry, he can get something from there without worrying about using an ingredient I need for dinner.”
“I accidentally ate the roasted chicken Bailey planned to use to make pot pies for everyone,” Spencer explained. He still felt guilty about it, especially the dismayed look on Bailey’s face when he found out. The pack saved the day, though, and picked up a couple of rotisserie chickens from the grocery store. And Bailey even made him a pot pie, though he’d nearly ruined dinner for everyone.
“But we learned a lesson, didn’t we? When you’re in the throes of thinking, you need something clearly labeled. Problem easily solved.”
“Indeed.” Spencer grinned and pulled out one of the little kits Bailey put together for him. They had cheese, nuts, slices of meat, and some sort of fruit. He made them for all the pack, but he always put ones for Spencer in his special bin.
“I’m jealous,” Aleron said. “I want a bin.”
Bailey snorted. “You can ask. Spencer’s special.”
Spencer grinned and held out an almond for Aleron. “I’ll share.”
“That’s very sweet of you. I’m thinking we’ll get pizza, though. I’m seriously hungry.”
“Oh, pizza sounds fantastic. Let’s order, and it’ll be here when the others get back.”
Before Spencer knew what was happening, they’d ordered pizza, and he was sitting in the kitchen with Aleron and Bailey. They chatted about how French baguettes weren’t the same unless they were actually made in France. To Spencer and Bailey, neither of whom had ever been to France, Aleron’s claim made zero sense. But he swore it was true, so Spencer believed him.
When the pack arrived, so had the pizza. Spencer enjoyed a few slices as he tried to keep up with the conversations flying around him. He wondered if all packs talked like they did. Spencer doubted it. The words flew at a speed Spencer could barely track, but they welcomed him into all of them, throwing questions his way frequently to settle one debate or another. Their easy acceptance of him went onto his list of things to think about where the pack was concerned.
