“As a matter of fact—”

“You have no idea what’s going on.”

Something in his sister’s tone made him stop. Something tired…and scared.

“You’re right. So why don’t you explain it to me.”

Missy began rubbing her temples. A sure sign her stress level just hit a new high. “I don’t know. I think someone’s trying to take over the Pride. Force the males out.”

“You’re telling me lions shot Petrov?”

“I said I don’t know.”

“Clearly.”

An unspoken rule among shifters—never fight against another shifter with anything but your fangs, claws, and hunting skills. One of the reasons few lions shed a tear over the loss of the Withell Pride a few months back. Using poison on your claws? Tasteless.

“You sure it’s not hyenas? I know I’ve been away for a while, but you can’t tell me you’re getting along with them.”

Missy sniffed. “Hardly.” No. He didn’t think things had changed that much. Not when Missy still sported a scar on her back from a childhood fight with a hyena. They were the only shifters Mace knew of born with their fangs and the belief that everything around them existed simply to be their prey.

“Just be careful, Mason. If some other males are planning to take over, I’m not sure if they’ll see you as a threat or not.”

Males always left the Pride they were born to, but since the Llewellyns were one of the “civilized” Prides that traded their males out, his existence created a bit of a problem and a threat to outsiders trying to claim his sisters and cousins as their own. With his money and name, the Pride could get three higher-level males for him.

Of course, that particular thought made him want to retch.

Although, Mace really wasn’t worried. He learned a long time ago how to survive without the Pride. He’d been the hunter and the hunted. Trapped in the middle of firefights with seemingly no way out. He’d killed. Humans. To protect his men and himself. His days of pampering had disappeared as soon as he went off to the Naval Academy.

But his sister’s concern almost made him feel like he didn’t hate her. Almost.

“So what do you want me to do?”

“Nothing at the moment. Just keep breathing.”

“And then what?”

“I don’t know yet. I don’t want some renegade males trying to take over this Pride. Sherry had two cubs last month by Petrov.” Missy shuddered. “I’d hate to think what they’d do if they got in.”

He didn’t want to ask the next question, but his stupid sense of duty and loyalty wouldn’t allow him to do any less. “Do you need me to stay here?”

“No. Shaw and Reynolds won’t stand for it, and Idon’t need you three snarling at each other over breakfast. Besides, we have some important people coming over for a holiday banquet tomorrow. And since I know you won’t clean yourself up for it—”

Mace held up his hand. “A simple ‘no’ really would have answered my question.”

“Where will you stay? And don’t say your apartment. It won’t be safe.”

He wanted to say “between Dez’s thighs,” but that would simply set his sister off again.

“Actually a buddy of mine from the Navy is coming to town. He and his Pack are staying here for the holidays. I can crash with them for a while.” He looked up to find his sister staring at him in horror. “Is there a problem?”

“Did you say Pack?”

“Yes.”

“You’re friends with a…a…dog?”

“He prefers wolf, but yeah, I am.” He actually considered Smitty his brother. They’d saved each other’s life on more than one occasion.

“But…you can’t be friends with him.”

In theory, maybe. They were Pack and Pride, dog and cat; he and Smitty should be the worst of enemies. Especially with the Pack–Pride war that had been going on for decades. But the military created strange bedfellows. Guys who had to rely on each other for their survival. Smitty was and always would be one of his best buds. Even if Mace caught him on more than one occasion licking his own balls.

“You know the funny thing is, Missy, I’m really not asking your fucking permission.”

“Don’t you dare curse at me, Mason! I’m not one of your military cohorts or that slut from the Bronx.” Mace looked back up at the ceiling. Five minutes with his sister and he felt twelve years old again.

“Now,” she continued, “are you at least going to come over for Christmas? I have a gift for you.”

Mace glanced around Missy’s office. There wasn’t one sign that in five days the world would be celebrating Christmas. It could easily be the middle of August for all the decoration that his sister had up.

“Are you even celebrating Christmas?”

“Don’t be smart. The living room is quite decorated. I just don’t like tinsel and things in my office.”

He didn’t even have to ask to know that his sisters hired someone to decorate their living room. No way would the Pride’s females lower themselves to something as middle class as putting up a Christmas tree.

“We’ll have to see. I may be busy.”

His sister’s gold eyes narrowed. “Not with that woman.”

If he were lucky, Christmas day his cock would be so far inside Dez MacDermot, going anywhere would be a physical impossibility.