Hungry Like a Wolf by Christine Warren Page B

her as she settled into the carved wooden chair and pretended to ignore them, which was easier said than done when you considered that more than two thirds of the pack tended to show up at these twice-weekly group meals. For as long as Honor could remember, the alpha had hosted the pack on Wednesday and Sunday nights in the enormous barnlike meeting hall with the attached industrial kitchen at the back. When she’d been a child, Honor’s Aunt Marie had been the head cook, whipping up mammoth pots of chili or stew, or roasting entire deer and cows on spits outside the back door. These days, Joey had taken over, of course. She was her mother’s daughter, after all, and feeding anyone who stood still long enough seemed to be her calling in life. That and reorganizing Honor’s T-shirts according to some system Honor had yet to figure out but seemed to always get wrong.
    “Tonight is the last of the bison,” Joey said as she set a heaping bowl of fiery red chili and an open bottle of beer in front of her cousin. “Sunday we’ll turn three sheep into stew, but hopefully after the Howl there will be enough clear heads around here to bring down some deer and leave them whole enough to share. Everyone has been asking for venison.”
    Wrenching her attention back to the present, Honor threw the other woman a smile. “Thanks, Joey. The way you roast it, I’m sure they have been. You let me know if you don’t get what you need, though. I’ll make sure we bring you a buck or two.”
    Joey nodded, drying her hands on her apron, but making no move to head back to the kitchen. Feeling awkward, Honor reached for her spoon and stirred her chili. She really didn’t feel much like eating at the moment, but she didn’t want to insult her cousin. Usually, Joey was so busy at the big meals that she didn’t have time to stay around and chat.
    “How have things been going with the beta from the city?” her cousin asked after a moment, and Honor reflected that the answer to that question had more to do with the death of her appetite than she would care to admit.
    She lifted a spoonful of food to her lips and blew on it. As if she had the faintest intention of eating anything. “Fine.”
    “He’s been asking a lot of questions. The girls mentioned it to me.” Joey nodded toward the kitchen doorway where half a dozen women bustled around finishing dishing out tonight’s dinner and cleaning up from its preparation. “Most of us haven’t been exactly sure what to tell him.”
    Tell him to go fuck himself.
    “I’ve noticed that myself,” a deep voice drawled, and Honor had to exercise a considerable amount of strength not to plant her face in her bowl in a reckless attempt at drowning by chili. If she offed herself that way, at least it would take care of her inner wolf. Her approaching heat had the furry little slut panting and howling every time Logan Hunter got within ten feet of her.
    “M-Mr. Hunter,” Joey stuttered, her color leaching away and returning just as quickly in a flash of bright red embarrassment. “I didn’t notice you come in.”
    Logan smiled his charming smile. “I’m not surprised. There’s quite a crowd in here, but I’m pretty certain that can be explained by the amazing scents I’ve been smelling for the last couple of hours. Someone around here evidently knows their way around a kitchen.”
    “Oh, it’s just chili. Would you like me to get you a bowl? I meant it when I said in the note that I’d be happy to fix you something back at the house if you’d rather not eat with everyone else.”
    “Note?” Honor growled, wondering when her cousin and their uninvited guest had gotten cozy enough with each other to start exchanging notes.
    “Your cousin thoughtfully left me a note in the kitchen up at the house letting me know that most of the pack usually eats here at the hall on Wednesday nights.” Logan offered the explanation easily, almost as easily as he slid into the chair next to Honor