The largest tomcat in the room was my cousin LucasWade, who’d accompanied my uncle Rick to the hearing. In human form, Lucas was six and a half feet tall and more than three hundred pounds of solid muscle. He had to enter most rooms sideways. Running into him was like hitting the side of a house.
The bruin was more than a foot taller than Lucas, and I couldn’t begin to imagine how much he weighed. His hair was light reddish-brown, which I hadn’t expected, and plentiful, which I had. It hung to his shoulders in thick, tangled waves, blending seamlessly with a beard of the same length and color. His cheeks were ruddy from the cold, and above them shone eyes that were proportionately small, dark brown and surprisingly expressive. And what I saw in them at the moment was anger. Unfiltered, unmistakable anger.
“You can’t just walk in here and demand an audience,” Calvin Malone insisted from the center of the room where he, like everyone else, was dwarfed by the angry bear. “This is neither the proper place, nor the proper way to address our council. I’m going to have to ask you to—”
“Calvin.” My father’s voice cut through Malone’s with the confidence of long-held authority. Malone faded into silence, but he didn’t move. My father was unfazed. “I’m sure we can spare the time to meet with a member of our brother species. In fact, I think that’s the least we owe our guest. That, and perhaps a cup of coffee?”
On his left, Uncle Rick nodded, as did Paul Blackwell, who watched from the kitchen doorway. Malone scowled, then conceded the point with a brisk nod. “Of course.”
My father’s gaze settled on me and Jace. “Jace, bring some coffee for…” He paused, addressing the bruin again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Elias Keller,” the giant rumbled.
“Some coffee for Mr. Keller?” my father continued, and Jace nodded, already headed toward the kitchen. “Mr. Keller, will you have a seat?”
Keller nodded, apparently surprised by the offer of hospitality. But there was barely enough space to breathe, much less sit, in the crowded room. My father looked almost amused by the extra security. “Gentlemen, could you give us a little room?”
The tomcats hesitated, glancing around at one another. Then, almost as one they migrated toward the exits, some headed for the front door, others for the hallway. When the room had cleared, except for the four Alphas, my father considered me for a moment, then tossed his head toward the kitchen. I went willingly, because if I sat quietly and chose my seat carefully, I’d be able to see and hear everything that happened in the main room. A minor bright spot in what was shaping up to be one of the worst days of my life.