Chapter 5: Static

"I switched the teapots," I said. "Joan's tea tastes better when it's hers."

The young wolf came into the kitchen and closed the door behind him.

"Give me the jar."

"No."

"Human," he said, and his eyes turned amber, "I'm not asking."

I backed away until the pantry door pressed into my spine.

I reached behind me, found the handle and pulled it open, and went in backward.

That was a mistake.

The pantry was a long narrow room with shelves on both sides and no other way out.

He followed me in and took the jar out of my coat with one hand.

His other hand closed around my throat.

"You're nothing here," he said. "Not a mate, not a wolf, not even kin. If you vanish before the Gathering, who's going to ask?"

"I will," Darian said.

The door slammed back against the wall.

I never saw Darian cross the kitchen.

I saw only the wolf's face go slack, and then I was free, coughing, and the jar was rolling across the floor.

Darian had the young man against the shelves by the front of his shirt.

A row of glass jars came down with them.

Pickles and plum preserves burst across the tile.

"Say it again," Darian said, very low. "Say that nobody would ask."

"Alpha," the wolf choked. "My Alpha sent me, I was only..."

"Your Alpha isn't mine. Get out of my house and tell him I'll speak to him in the hall."

The wolf scrambled up and ran.

Darian stood with his chest heaving, in the middle of the broken glass and plum jam.

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