Pride Read Online Free Page A

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.
    Jace stood in front of the coffeepot, pouring creamer into a plain white mug. “You think he takes it with hazelnut creamer?” I leaned with one hip against the counter next to him.
    “I’m guessing black.” He stirred, then tapped the spoon against the rim of the mug before dropping it into the sink. “This one’s for you.” Winking, he handed me the cup of doctored coffee, then carried a second mug—black—into the living room. He was back a minute later, pouring a third mug for himself.
    I sat at the small round table, my chair positioned as far to the right as possible. From there, I could see the bruin, who took up most of the ugly beige sofa all on his own. I could also see my father, in the armchair nearest the couch, and Malone, opposite him in a matching chair.
    “…can we do for you, Mr. Keller?” My father asked, his hands templed beneath his chin, fingertips brushing a slight shadow of stubble.
    Across from him, Malone faced mostly away from me, sothat I saw only a slice of his profile. But that was enough for me to recognize the scowl dominating his expression. He was clearly irritated with my father for taking charge, which sent a petty surge of glee through me. Did Malone think chairing the tribunal sitting in judgment of me gave him enough power to displace Greg Sanders as the head of the entire Territorial Council? If so, he was sorely mistaken, and at that moment I wanted nothing more out of life than to be present when my father made that fact clear.
    And maybe a full pardon. That would be nice, too.
    Jace slid into the seat on my right, setting his own mug on the table in front of him. I mouthed, “Thanks,” and held up my cup before sipping from it, my attention already focused on the Alphas and the bruin.
    “What can you do for me?” Keller ran one broad, thick-fingered hand along his scraggly beard, tugging it as he stared down at my father. “Keep your cats off my mountain.”
    Bruins, like the bears they Shifted into, lived almost exclusively in the northern rocky districts—mostly Alberta, British Columbia and Alaska. Very few lived in the continental U.S., and those who did stuck to isolated regions of the Northwest—including the werecat free zone in Montana, where we’d come for my hearing.
    “ Our cats?” My father glanced at his fellow Alphas, but none seemed to have any idea what our ursine guest was talking about.
    “Well, they certainly aren’t my cats,” Keller scoffed. He lifted his mug—which looked like a toy cup in his tennis racket-size hand—and drained the contents in one long swallow. Then he set the empty cup on the coffee table and eyed my father steadily.
    “What are these cats doing, exactly?” Calvin Malone asked.
    “They’re carrying on like a pack of rabid dogs, not five miles from my place.” Keller shifted in his seat, and the couchgroaned with his movement. “Hunting and fighting in the daytime. Making all kinds of racket. It’s a bad time for such ruckus, what with humans crawling all over the mountain looking for those missing hikers. Damn fools. Those cats of yours are either gonna make trouble, or be trouble, and I want no part of it either way.”
    Missing hikers?
    On my left, the kitchen door creaked open, and I turned to see Marc step inside. His gaze found me instantly, the gold specks glittering in his brown eyes. He looked away first, as had become his habit since we’d broken up ten weeks earlier. Ten weeks and four days, to be exact. And approximately ten hours.
    But who was counting?
    A familiar