Always wondering if there was someone out there that his wolf might fall for would kill a relationship. That’s the real reason he hadn’t kissed Taylor. It was like Schrödinger’s cat. She was and wasn’t his mate at the same time, as long as he never kissed her.
But the man in the video didn’t have that issue. Prowler wanted to throw the phone across the room and go find Taylor. Pin her against the nearest surface and erase that man’s lips from hers with his own. He also wanted to throw the phone across the room, end things with Taylor, and grab one of the girls working for them and fuck her into next week.
Was Taylor ready to end their agreement and just hadn’t seen him yet to tell him? Or was she going to string two men along for however long it benefited her?
He didn’t think she was that type, which is why he even took up with her to begin with. However, he didn’t think he’d catch his ex in reverse cowgirl with another man when he married her either.
He was so deep in his head that he hadn’t realized all his brothers were there and waiting for him to open their meeting until Bulldog cleared his throat.
Prowler pulled his head out of his ass, dropped the gavel, and went immediately into discussing Hunter and Sleeper. Normally he liked to clear out old business first and handle shifter business after church, but Hunter wasn’t doing well, and this time, shifter and club business were intertwined.
Everyone looked to Kansas, the resident shifter expert, or what passed for one, for input.
“Like I said before, the only people I knew who suppressed their wolves with silver-laced tattoos all eventually went crazy ordied, but it seems to be happening a lot quicker in Hunter than in the other cases I’ve seen.”
They all knew it was coming because, fuck if Kansas didn’t tell them that from the jump.
Suppress wasn’t the most accurate word. Severing the connection between man and beast was a more apt term. Other than killing Hunter, it was the only choice they had. He would be locked away for a long time no matter what, and he couldn’t last more than a month or two before his wolf forced a change.
“I think the difference is the tatt. In the men I knew about, it was redone, or more were added, every few years. The collective theory was when the wolf tries to break through and can’t, that’s when it drives the man over the edge. So, keeping the wolf quiet is key. Of course, this was all still being tested when I left the commune.”
Prowler had considered it himself, but they were unsure of how it would work in a quantum wolf, and he had Cass to consider.
As it was, they were two entities reluctantly sharing space. Natural wolves talked to their man, and they melded, two halves of a whole, but quantums were apparently different.
In the last few months, though, something had changed between Prowler and his wolf. He was growling and howling more, but Prowler still couldn’t decipher him.
“So, if we can smuggle in some silver-laced ink or powdered silver, we may buy him a few more years at a time,” Boogeyman mused.
“Worth a shot. The biggest issue with prison ink is infection. Does the severed wolf also suppress his wolf immunity and healing?” Monster asked.
“I don’t know. That wasn’t brought up before I left.”
Prowler didn’t miss the look that raced across Kansas’s face. He’d left because the pricks in his community were testing ontheir own kind. Kansas found out that it wasn’t a voluntary program when they came for him. He was running away from other wolves, and Prowler was trying to run away from his own when they found each other.
They loved motorcycles and spent all their free time either on two wheels or four paws.
Before long, Bulldog, Ghoul, and Monster had joined them, and their chapter of the Kings of Anarchy MC was born.
“I can try to see if my friend is still there and if he has any information, but no promises. It’s been over a decade.”
For Kansas to volunteer to call anyone from his old pack was proof that his loyalty and love for his brothers in the Kings far outweighed the hatred for the Green Tree Commune, a.k.a. the Domino Pack.
The pack had killed Kansas’s whole family by the time he’d turned twenty-five. A family he thought died for a cause, the greater good, voluntarily. But in reality, they died to make a so-called alpha rich.
“Infection is the least of our worries. It’s a risk we need to take—ASAP,” Prowler decided. “Ghoul, call the Shadow Angels Prez and make it happen. We need to get silver inside sooner rather than later. Give her a marker.” Prowler hated owing anyone a favor, but Ripley had a direct line into the prison, one they needed, and her club’s only restrictions were drugs or weapons, and their favor was neither of those things.
Ghoul lived at the Angels-owned trailer park and so was their “direct line” to the prison. Prowler had considered, more than once, letting Ghoul cut out the middlewoman, but he didn’t need bad blood. Their clubs co-existed peacefully in the same city, so why fuck that up?
“It’s as good as done.”
After a few more housekeeping things and financial reports, it came time for his least favorite subject, loan jumpers.
“Travis Barton is behind again. This is the third time. Last few times it was a matter of hours, so no need to call in muscle. This time he was a week late when we sent Chef and Monster to talk to him, now he’s in the wind.” Kansas reports.
“Anything to add?” Prowler turned to Chef and Monster.
“Real prick. At first, said he’d have it in a week, so we gave him a reminder of what a week had already cost him and what another would tack on. As he drove off, he yelled some shit, but it’s nothing anyone else doesn’t say when we come a-knocking.”
