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around Erik to face the newcomer. He lifted his chin. “We have no enemy here,” he said.
    “You act like this land is yours, yet you have not been here before.”
    “Not for a long time,” Devan admitted.
    The newcomer bared his teeth, certainly a wolfish action. With short, cropped brown hair and wide shoulders, the man would make a considerable ally—if he was the werewolf they were looking for.
    “I am Devan Kemper. This is my brother Erik.”
    “And you two are not just passing through, are you?” The newcomer eyed them with obvious suspicion.
    How best to play this? He’d hoped the man would provide his name, given that he had stated theirs, but already the man was challenging his authority.
    “We’re just two men looking for another to join our band,” he said casually. A human would not pick up on the double meaning, but a werewolf would.
    The newcomer stiffened. “I need a drink,” he muttered. He stalked back to the cottage.
    Although uninvited, Devan followed, Erik close at his heels. The man had shut the door behind him, but when Devan tried the knob, it was unlocked. They entered to see a small table, the man sitting at it, a bottle of beer in his hand, two more beers across the table.
    “Tell me about your band,” the man said, curling his lip back to flash his teeth again.
    Devan gestured for Erik to sit first and then sat himself. “I thank you for the drink,” he said formally.
    “Your band,” the man insisted.
    “What you see.” Devan motioned to his brother. “Night Wings,” he said, naming his pack on the fly. If only they had wings, he and Kyla and the baby could leave the entire world behind and be safe forevermore.
    “Night Wings.” The man snorted. “Never heard of it.”
    Heart sinking, Devan opened his beer and jugged half of it. The man’s reaction was too inconclusive to be either human or werewolf.
    “A flying wolf.” The man shook his head. “Just the two of you. Why so few? Why need more?”
    So he was a werewolf! A mistrusting one but Devan had the feeling the man could prove to be a valuable ally, if he could be persuaded to join their side.
    Once again, he opted toward honesty. “I need to expand the pack.”
    “Why?”
    Erik cast a strong glance Devan’s way before lowering his gaze. While his brother had no place to offer the alpha advice, Devan still knew what he thought. He thinks wrong.
    “I have enemies,” Devan explained.
    “Everyone does.” He slammed his beer onto the table. Fizz bubbled from the top and leaked around the sides.
    “Warrick and all of his Evening Ellipse pack.”
    “Ack.” Spittle flew from the man’s mouth. “I’ve had a few encounters with the likes of them.”
    “And?” Devan prompted.
    “I’m all that’s left of Spirit Fire. Extinguished all the others, he did, except for those two traitors who jumped over to join his pack of mangy, vicious beasts.”
    Devan’s nostrils flared. That the man still lived proved him to be a coward. Loyal to some extent for not giving in, but that was the way of the wolf. If another alpha killed your alpha, you had two choices—to either attack in your dead alpha’s name for revenge or to pledge your loyalty to your new alpha. It did not say much for the man to have hidden away and fled. Perhaps he was not the best of choices after all. Then again, Devan himself had turned his back on his pack. Maybe he shouldn’t be so quick to judge.
    “I know what you’re thinking.” The man stood, walked over to his small fridge, and removed another three beers. “Two wolves, even three, is nothing. Not against his pack.”
    “Not enough,” Devan corrected. He accepted a second beer even though he still had half of his first one.
    The man eyed him without comment.
    Perhaps there were others like this man, lone wolves who had forsaken their packs because of Warrick. If they hadn’t moved on yet, if they could find them… But a pack made up of deserters… Once the Evening Ellipse pack had