Trick grabbed our lunches and ran after me.

I wouldn’t let Trick talk to me until we got to Wicked Brews, ordered from an entirely too chipper Noah, and had our coffees in hand, which was our standard operating procedure. Then I waved at him. “Proceed.”

“This is good, Lou.” Trick resettled Dammit’s carrier on his chest.

I waited, but he didn’t feel the need to elaborate. “You don’t think it’s weird that our new roommate made us sack lunches and also apologized because they apparently didn’t meet his rigorous standards?”

Trick sipped his espresso, tilting his head to the side to look at me. “What do you know about wolf shifter pack structures?”

“Not as much as Juliet,” I said, taking a sip of my own latte. Look, I know there’s a stereotype of Seattle people and coffee but screw you, coffee is delicious, okay? “I’ll need help connecting the dots. Please remember that the caffeine hasn’t hit my system yet, so use small words.”

“But you know about real wolves, right? Like in the wild?” Dammit chirped softly and Trick started running a finger over the top of the tiny bird’s skull.

I waffled my hand back and forth. I knew a little, though not as much as I did about dogs, which weren’t the same thing at all. “They usually travel in family packs centered around the male and female alpha pair—the parents.”

Trick finished his espresso and set it down. “Werewolves are similar. I’ve always thought Declan might be an alpha, but he’s got a lot of baggage in that area.” Trick looked sadly at his empty cup.

“Noah’s been trained by Van—he’ll only give you a split shot,” I reminded him. “Werewolf alphas—there’s something about food, right? Pack feeding order or something?”

He sighed. “When people hear the word ‘alpha,’ they picture those dudes that use it to mean pushy and aggressive. King of the hill type stuff. Werewolves—it’s not like that. Yes, they protect their pack, but they also care for it. For most shifters, that means they’re nosy as fuck. Are you eating okay? Warm? Healthy? How is your boyfriend treating you? Are you happy?” He shook his head. “A truly engaged shifter alpha is worse than—” He struggled for a comparison, probably because he wasn’t awake yet either.

“Worse than a whole flock of pigeons.” I narrowed my eyes over my cup. Freaking pigeons.

Trick paused, his hand hovering over Dammit. “Sure, we’ll go with that.”

I looked at my lunch with new eyes. “So you think Declan feeding us is a good thing? I mean, I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth if said gift horse is also into catering, but I don’t think he should feel obligated to take care of us. I’m an adult. I can make my lunch.” I never did, but I could.

Trick shrugged. “Fight it if you want, but it’s a cultural thing wrapped up in a biological imperative.”

“I will fight this all the way to the courts!” I shouted, slapping the table. Yup, the caffeine had finally kicked in.