The lounge of Heir’s House was one of those rooms that seems bigger than it is, and it was not small to begin with. The only light came from the roaring fire in the huge grate beneath the marble mantel, and from a pair of elaborate candlesticks on the side tables, which framed the vast couch on which I perched.

Werewolves live in the modern world, they have tablets, iPhones and, of course, electric lights, but many still prefer candlelight and a grand gothic aesthetic - for the look of the thing. This central light source made the boundaries of the room vague and shadowy, the location of the walls and corners became uncertain, making the high-ceilinged room seem more cavernous, as did the grand size of the furniture.

Spread out in front of the fire was a rug that seemed to be made of some animal skin - shaggily haired - but was too large for that. I wondered if it was the skins of King's enemies, stitched together. Three club chairs were arranged about the fire, either side of the couch, their elderly leather, creased, stained and scratched, dented in the middle from the bottoms of successive generations of werewolf nobility. The couch on which I sat was about twice the length of a normal couch, its frame was ornately carved in dark wood, and its cushions had been patched and recovered over and over without ever bothering to remove the previous fabric, making it a hodge-podge of styles and colors in various shades of faded. It was very comfortable, but I sat on the edge of it, clasping my knees, wondering what might happen next.

Confidence was always key in dealing with werewolves, but I wasn't sure where I stood at this moment. I had surely betrayed my client, Kenai King by, yet again, colluding with the people I was supposed to be investigating. On the other hand, I had saved his son's life and potentially averted a war; that had to count for something.

But Hudson had called me. Me. Of all the people out there he could have called - and of all the brothers, Hudson had the most human friends - he had called me. Talk about getting too close to a case. If Gray lived, then probably none of this would matter, the doctor was trusted, I would keep my mouth shut, and neither Hudson nor Gray wanted any of this to come out. But if he died...

The heavy doors that sealed the lounge, opened, creaking on their aging hinges, and Hudson entered.

"How is he?" I asked, but the question was almost unnecessary as I could already see the relief on Hudson's face.

"The jackass has managed to get himself torn up pretty good," smiled Hudson, even his choice of words broadcasting the good news, "but they seem to have gone out of their way to avoid clawing anything too important. He needs to rest up, but he'll be fine. The doctor's going to stay the night in his room, just to make sure."

He sat down heavily on the couch beside me, his smile still beaming. But as he drew in a long breath of relief, the flickering firelight caught the glint of a tear in his eye.

"Fucking idiot," he murmured.

I allowed him to collect himself and he turned to me.

"Thank you. Really. I cannot possibly thank you enough for what you did tonight. You didn't have any reason to help us. In fact, I suppose you had plenty of reasons not to. So... yeah. Thank you."

I shrugged. "Put it down to curiosity."

"I'm told that kills."

"Only cats. I'm part-wolf. We thrive on curiosity."

Hudson nodded. "I've a feeling I know the direction in which this conversation is going."

"Well?"

He nodded. "I owe you at least that. At least an explanation. I hope I can trust you not to let what I'm about to tell you leave this room."

I held up a hand. "If it's pertinent to the case, then I make no promises."

Hudson shrugged. "It's not. I'm sure you will see that it's not. And I trust you to do the right thing once you know the full story."

"Why?" I asked. I genuinely wanted to know.

"Why what?"

"Why do you trust me?"

He gave me a cocky little smile that I fancied reflected the real Kenai Hudson. "If you can explain why you trust a person then it's not trust. Real trust should be like true faith; instinctive and inexplicable. Now, do you want to hear this or not?"

I settled back onto the comfortable couch and indicated for him to proceed.

"Would you like a drink? It's a longish story."

"Sure."

He went to a large stuffed bear by the wall and opened its belly to reveal a drinks cabinet. "Brandy?"

"Why not?"

As he poured, he began to tell his story. "You know, I suppose, that Gray had a mate? Her name was Yuko - Chaney Yuko. She was Gray's mate but..." Hudson paused as he handed me my drink. "You know that it’s said Inuit people have a hundred different words for snow?”

I nodded.

“Werewolves are like the exact opposite of that with the word 'mate'. It’s one word that covers a lot of bases and means different things in almost every case. Maria is now my father's mate - I doubt there's a lot of affection there, but it is recognized. I've mated with my share of females and, by werewolf lore, they all ought to be recognized as my mate, but none of them would say they were. Yuko was Gray's mate, but it was more like a marriage.”

I could already feel the tightness in my chest as the story unfolded.

“That happens for wolves sometimes, just as it does for humans - you find a person you want to be with. Of course, for wolves it's not a constraint, Yuko and Gray were free to take other mates - that's our way. But they chose not to. And that's our way, too. Love exists for werewolves as keenly as it does for humans, just in a greater variety of forms."

He swirled the brandy in his glass and contemplated the flames before us.

"It might surprise you to hear, but I envied my brother. I know what everyone says about me, and it's all true. But that doesn't mean I don't want more, and to see the look that passed between Gray and Yuko, and to know they had something that I could never even imagine - I was envious. I was getting laid six ways from Sunday, and yet he was happier than me. And believe me - I was very happy. Still am. That's beside the point."

He slugged back the brandy and poured another glass before topping me up.

"Yuko's family lived near the Hokkai border. You know the area?"

I nodded.

"Bad district," said Hudson. "They say the wolves there hunt the rats that live in their walls for food. Nasty area. Wolves from there don't mate with a son of Kenai King, and certainly not exclusively."

"Your father didn't approve."

"If by 'didn't approve' you mean 'hated even the idea' then yeah, he didn't approve." Hudson drank again. "Gray was his favorite before that. Although, it was more a process of elimination, I imagine. Tanner was the hothead and I was the wastrel, but still. He could see how someone clever and thoughtful like Gray could be Pack Leader someday. But not with Yuko as his only mate. What would happen to the next generation? Can't have someone like that diluting the Kenai bloodline. There were fights - terrible arguments. Days when I thought one would kill the other. In the end, Yuko left here, where she'd been living, and went to visit with her family until things between Gray and my father were sorted out."

Another drink vanished, another poured. I struggled to keep up - brandy was stronger than I was used to.

"You know the deal in that area of town. On the border. You accept that shit will, from time to time, go down. And because not even Kenai King wants to be at war with every pack, all at once, little border incursions are overlooked, as long as they're not claiming territory."

"There was a border raid?" I guessed. I had a grim feeling that I knew where this story was going.

"The wolves on the Hokkai side of that border are as poor as those on the Kenai," said Hudson. "There're raids back and forth all the damn time. People get killed." He didn't have to say any more than that. "She was a good female. I mean... She was kinder and more honest than anyone growing up in that area has a right to be. Hard bitch, too. Could teach anyone a lesson in a fight."

"There was no investigation?" I asked.

Hudson shook his head. "As we’ve mentioned, not a strong point or a priority, most times. Not our style. If the raiders had been going after territory, then there would have been reprisals. Or, if it had been an official raid ordered by Hokkai Jack. Or," he looked into the fire, "or, if someone important had been killed. Gray went to our father and demanded action but... no. And maybe father was right. Starting a war over a few lives? Who does that benefit? Still seems a shabby way to treat the death of a good woman."

"But Gray wouldn’t let it go?" I hazarded.

"Would you?"

As Hudson turned to look at me, his face was thrown into relief by the fire and I was struck as never before by what a beautiful male he was. The flames gave his golden hair an aura, and made his blue eyes sparkle the way I had seen in him at the party, though now they were tinged with sadness. He felt for his brother's loss, and that honest melancholy made him even more compelling than he had already been.

"He's been investigating on his own," Hudson continued. "Although, that might not be the proper word for it. It’s more of a hunt, albeit an organized one with lots of planning. Reams of notes as he tries to figure out who it was who robbed him of Yuko."

"But werewolves aren't cut out for that,” I said, the realization finally sinking in that Yuko’s killers had never been found.

Hudson’s lips tipped into a crooked, sad smile. "He's no closer now than he was then. He still steals into Hokkai territory to ask questions or to follow up on what he thinks is a lead. Tonight, he was seen as he crossed and they cut him off so he couldn't get back. They chased him deeper into their territory and caught up to him. By a miracle, a police car came by before they could finish him off - human police don't like werewolves brawling. He was able to get away while they were hiding from the cops. That's when he called me, half dead. But, of course, by the time I got there, they'd found him again - he'd left a trail of blood a blind wolf could follow. Fortunately, I'd guessed there might be trouble and called you on my way. And then you saved us."

I pondered the fire. No wonder Gray was so sullen and taciturn all the time, snapping at any who tried to show him friendship. He was living in the shadow of tragedy. No wonder he hated his father.

Hudson glanced at the clock on the mantel. "It's late. You can stay here if you'd like."

I raised an eyebrow but Hudson held up his hands.

"No funny business. We've plenty enough spare rooms you can use."

He had a reputation, of course, and one that he did nothing to deny, but I trusted him.

"How about one last drink?" I suggested. After that story, I needed something to take the edge off. Grief weighed on my chest like an anvil. But I couldn’t deny, part of it was self-serving. I’d learned more in the couple hours about these men and the workings of their pack than ever before. There was still an attempted murderer at large, and it was still my job to ferret them out. Who knew what other useful information Hudson might share as we continued talking?

As the night wore on, somehow, we migrated down from the couch to sit with our backs against it on the rug before the fire, the bottle of brandy between us. With his brother stable and the story told, Hudson became the easiest of company, peppering his conversation with jokes and stories that tumbled out of him at speed. He became less guarded as the night wore on and the drink continued to flow, but so did I.

"How is a beautiful female like you single?"

"I prefer 'woman' to female."

"Sorry, force of habit. Divided by a common language - that's what they say, isn't it? But that doesn't answer my question."

I sighed, letting my mind adjust to the weight of brandy pulling it in contradictory directions. "I guess I'm happy enough single?"

"Really?"

"No, not really. But any other answer makes me sound a bit pathetic."

His mouth kicked up into a grin and I chuckled ruefully.

"It's tough being a part-wolf." I gave my standard response. "Neither one thing nor the other, straddling two worlds."

"Rather than straddling..."

"No." I put a finger on his lips and he snapped at it playfully, as if to bite. "Human men are scared of me - even the ones who like me. I was with a man once, for months, he knew what I was and I thought, just for once, it wasn't going to matter. Then I opened his bedside drawer one day and found a gun inside."

"Silver bullets?"

"You're damn right," I said, swigging my drink. "Fucker. Wanted to take a walk on the wild side, but first argument and I show a sign of anger, he probably would’ve capped me without even thinking about it. Where’s the trust?"

"What about wolf males?" asked Hudson.

"What about them?"

"Nothing wrong with a bit of inter-species mattress surfing."

"You should know,” I said with a grin.

"And proud of it."

"But," I pointed a wayward finger at him, "ever been with a part-wolf?"

He stopped and frowned. "Do you know, oddly enough, I'm not sure I have."

I nodded. "That's the usual deal. Happy with your own kind, happy to cross the border for a little detour, but something in between? That's just weird."

Hudson nodded sagely. "Maybe you're right. I've been nursing a prejudice without knowing it. I am officially a better person for having known you. Next female - sorry, woman - next woman I pick up will be a part-wolf. And when I nail her, know that I'll be nailing her for you," he said, his solemn tone belied by the gleam in his eyes.

We clinked glasses, as if this was something worth toasting. But I still shook my head, now really pondering the topic more deeply.

"But that's different, isn't it? You're not looking for anything more, are you? It's just sex."

I had expected another teasing response, but a curious expression crossed Hudson's face.

"That's the word, isn't it? That's what they say about Kenai Hudson. Let me tell you; that sort of thing can become a - what do you call it? - a self-fulfilling prophecy. What woman looking for a relationship would spend time with me? They all know; Kenai Hudson - good for a good time, but nothing more. Nothing more." He paused to finish his drink. "This is nice, you know. Talking to you. I like talking to you."

"Well, I like talking to you, too." It was true; I did. I wouldn't have thought it likely, and my motives were muddy to start, at best, but damned if it wasn’t the truth.

"I don't usually talk to women. So many other things to do to them. So many things they want me to do to them." He shook his head. "A reputation can be a terrible thing, you know. Did you know there's a group of human women who call themselves the Hudson’s Hoes? Like Hudson Hawk, you know - that crap movie. There's about thirty of them, all in their own little chat room, talking about what I'm like, what we did the night before, writing fan fiction about what they'd like to do. Now, cards on the table, I've had some good times with those women, and God knows it's not like I'm turning them down - I bring this stuff on myself but..." He paused, the train of thought stopping to take on more passengers. "You know, half the time, the stuff they want me to do it's - and I know this will sound odd coming from me - it's just degrading to women."

"Do you do it?" I asked.

"Well, yes. Mostly. I draw the line at hurting them. Spanking is fine, but no more than that. And they get pissed if I don't... You know. They don't want a bit of fun, they want to be taken by an animal. Play like it’s against their will. Maybe that's not what I want."

"But you do it anyway?" I guessed.

"Yes, but just to be polite. My heart's not in it." He sighed. "Fortunately, it's not my heart they want to be in it."

"You could stop?" I suggested.

"Let's not be hasty," he said with a quick and wicked grin that sent a bolt of heat through me.

I laughed. "Seems like you're enjoying it just a bit."

"No question," Hudson admitted. "But it's still not what I want, I just..."

"You're afraid that you'll never find what you want, so why not enjoy what you have?"

He looked at me, and even through the haze of drink, his face was more serious than it had been all evening. "That's exactly right. I want to find the right person. But maybe all this stuff is what's stopping me from finding the right person. My Yuko. Someone..." He looked at me. "Someone I can talk to."

I guess the drinks played a role, as did my basic primal attraction to all the Kenai brothers, but I think it was the simple, honest beauty of the moment that made me lean forward and kiss Hudson. And as soon as I had tasted him on my lips, I knew that this was not going to stop at kissing.