Kelley Armstrong - Frostbitten

Noah was going home with the Sorrentinos. That was Nick's idea. He joked that they were opening a home for wayward young werewolves. I watched him, now huddled with two young men, figuring out a way to get the ball back. Nick had realized that having kids of his own wasn't in the picture, but he'd still needed something, still seemed to be looking for a way to fill that void. Maybe this would do it.

So the Pack had a new member. Maybe two, if Reese stayed. There was even the chance of a third. Morgan had hung around yesterday, helping out, meeting Jeremy and asking questions about the Pack. He'd expressed nothing I could interpret as obvious interest, but said that when he was done with his experiment, he'd come by Syracuse for a few beers.

At a shriek, I looked out to see Kate with the ball, tearing toward the goal, little legs pumping. Clay ran backup, shouldering Nick and Reese aside when they tried to get close. Noah raced over, glanced at Clay, then backed off. As Antonio snuck up, I leaned forward to shout a warning to Kate. My ribs protested and I grimaced.

"Are you all right?"

I looked down to see Logan beside me.

"I'm fine," I said. "Just a little sore."

He studied my face, then nodded. He started to settle in at my feet, ready to take up the task of keeping his invalid mother company.

"Go on," I said. "I'm fine."

He checked my face again, uncertain.

"A jelly doughnut says you can't get that ball from your sister."

Like his father, Logan can never resist a challenge. With a grin, he raced off. Kate was almost at the goal line, but Antonio had leapt into her way.

"Kate!" Logan shouted, racing toward her.

He held his hands out for the ball. She threw it, a pitch-perfect toss. He caught it… and started running toward the other goal. Kate howled and tore after him. So did Clay, keeping right on his heels as Logan's giggles rang out, cheeks rosy, snowpants swishing, snow flying up around him. At the last second, he veered, ran back and threw the ball to his sister. They took off, tossing it back and forth as the adults pretended to try getting it back.

"So," said a voice beside me. "What do you think of your Pack?"

I turned to Jeremy as he stepped up beside me.

"Not mine yet," I said.

"But it will be." His dark eyes danced. "Think you're up to it?"

Someone shouted and I turned to look at them all, playing in the field.

I smiled. "Not yet. But I'm working on it."

KELLEY ARMSTRONG, author of nine novels of the Women of the Otherworld, plus the short fiction collection Men of the Otherworld , lives in Ontario with her family.