Midnight Wolf (Shifters Unbound #11)(52)

“First time a Shifter has wandered through my carnival,” the bear said. “Name’s Dante. Like the poet. Sleep tonight. Might give you breakfast in the morning, but don’t be offended if I have my people watching you.”

“That’s what I’d do. Well met, Dante. The Goddess’s blessings upon you.”

This was a standard Shifter greeting from one who was invading another’s territory, which Angus was. Angus extended his hand. If Dante accepted him completely, he’d gather Angus into a brief hug, showing he trusted Angus not to gouge him with teeth or claws. Or Dante could shift back to bear and rip the hand apart.

Dante kept things impartial, gripping Angus’s forearm. Angus gripped his in return, and Dante brought his left hand around to squeeze Angus’s shoulder.

Acceptance for now, if not total trust.

“Go to that tent when you wake in the morning.” Dante pointed to a white, fairly large tent at the end of one aisle. Not where Dante lived, Angus knew—the tent would be neutral ground. “And I’ll see you’re fed. Good night. Give my greeting to your mate and cub.”

Dante grinned at Angus’s discomfiture—but of course Dante would have scented Ciaran and Tamsin. He was being polite and not demanding that Angus tell him about them.

The fact that he’d called Tamsin Angus’s mate said that the mate-claim was already becoming ingrained—Shifters could scent when one Shifter claimed another.

They exchanged wary good-nights. Angus walked away first, careful not to turn his back until he was at least twenty feet from Dante. This was Dante’s territory—Angus would make himself be deferential.

He noticed several shadows following him, human by scent, likely Dante’s backup, keeping an eye on Angus. Angus walked quietly to the truck, not trying to lose them, letting them see where he went.

Angus very much doubted Dante would report him. Dante was un-Collared, and he’d want to stay far from the notice of Shifter Bureau. Obviously the bear had successfully avoided being rounded up, just as Tamsin and Kendrick and his group had. But unlike Kendrick, Dante had chosen to live among humans and not seek out other Shifters.

Angus silently opened the truck’s door and climbed into the cab. He heard the quiet but deep breathing of Ciaran, and the quicker but equally sleep-filled breaths of Tamsin.

He parted the curtain around the bed a crack to find Tamsin curled on her side, his son sleeping trustfully against the curve of her body.

Angus’s tension started to ebb. Tamsin was here, protecting Ciaran, sleeping the sleep of the just.

And the exhausted. Angus let the curtain fall, then closed and locked the truck’s doors, stretching himself out on the front bench seat. He didn’t intend to sleep, but between one blink and the next, he must have succumbed, because when he opened his eyes again, the sun was shining hard through the windows.

The bed’s curtain was open, and both Tamsin and Ciaran were gone.

Tamsin kept hold of Ciaran’s hand as they entered the white tent, which held about forty people and a buffet. Sunday brunch, the overly tall man who called himself Dante told her.

When Tamsin had leapt down from the truck, wanting the bathroom too much to wait for Angus to wake up, she’d been surrounded by five human males, who’d greeted her politely if not warmly. Two had led her and Ciaran, who had scrambled out after her, to a trailer that held a somewhat decent bathroom. Tamsin had done her best to wash her face, but she longed for a shower.

She’d emerged, then guarded the door while Ciaran used the bathroom, and then they followed their guides to the tent.

Dante had been waiting outside the tent’s open flap. “Where’s Angus?” he asked without greeting.

Tamsin stared at him, as did Ciaran, not so much because he was a Shifter, un-Collared, but how he was dressed. His shirt was black silk, and over it he wore a gold, purple, and silver striped velvet coat that hung past his waist. Black jeans and gray cowboy boots completed the outfit, and he held a purple top hat with a stream of black feathers rippling from under its wide black ribbon.

He watched her take in that he was Shifter, and he gave her an acknowledging nod that he knew she and Ciaran were too.

“I met Angus last night,” Dante went on. “We do brunch Saturday and Sunday mornings, but the rest of the time, you find your own meals.” He gestured with his ornate hat. “Come in and meet everyone.”

Angus must have won Dante over—Dante would never have made an offer like that if he hadn’t decided to trust them.

The people inside the tent regarded Tamsin curiously, but they were welcoming, in a low-key way. They let Tamsin into the line, and before long, she had a full plate, Ciaran an even fuller one. Steaming eggs, crisp bacon, a pile of pancakes, toast, juice, coffee—everything Tamsin and Ciaran could want.

The cook was a large man who looked as though the shower wasn’t his favorite place, but he could cook, Tamsin discovered as she ate. She went through her plate and returned for seconds, Ciaran right behind her.

Halfway through her refill, Angus stormed into the tent. His gaze went to Tamsin and Ciaran, and his stark worry turned to glowering anger.

“About time you got up,” Tamsin said, licking syrup from her fork. “You were sleeping hard. You snore, you know. Loudly.”

Ciaran guffawed around a mouthful of sausage. “He does.”

Angus glared, but he said nothing, his relief at finding them apparent.