Bloodlines by Alex Kidwell Read Free Book Online

the dining table set with sturdy blue plates.
    “We make sure that we don’t overhunt, of course,” Anthony was saying, making his way back into the kitchen. He gave Edwin’s hair a fond ruffle as he joined him at the counter. “Does it need anything else, Ed?”
    Edwin, dressed now, thank God, took another taste from the stew pot. “Nah, it’s perfect,” he said, giving his brother a wide-open grin, nudging his shoulder against Anthony’s. Edwin didn’t have a trace of guile in his expression, nothing hiding or held back. He just was , this kid who looked to be all of twenty, broad shouldered and so goddamn alive. He looked like Redford did sometimes, when Jed did something good enough to shake off the years of care and worry and fear for him, when Redford stopped hiding behind the ghost of an old woman and his own scars.
    “Good.” Anthony nodded. “Make yourselves at home, please, get comfortable. Do you want anything to drink? We’ve got water, beer, tea, and coffee. I’m sure we have juice in here somewhere.”
    Redford picked out a seat close to the roaring fire, the tense expression slowly leaving him. “I’d love an orange juice,” he ventured.
    “Let me get that, Ant,” Randall said, immediately going to the stove and putting a coffeepot on. Jed was brought a beer, and he nodded his thanks to Randall as the man went out to hand Redford his juice. “Why don’t you sit? I’ve set the table. Edwin and I can take care of the rest.”
    Jed watched Anthony carefully. Up until that moment, no one would think the guy was sick. He was bustling about, equal parts wolfish and strong, still wearing that goddamn apron. In a flannel shirt and equally worn jeans, he looked like the grinning love child of Martha Stewart and a lumberjack, messy brown hair and bright-blue eyes, dark stubble lining his jaw. But right there, when he reluctantly handed off the pot of stew to Randall, Jed saw his left hand shake. Anthony frowned, quickly curling the trembling hand into a fist, and stuffed it in his pocket to hide it.
    Under the smiles, under the easy warmth, Jed saw the tension. This whole family was holding their breaths, desperate and hopeful and terrified. And they were making them dinner. Instead of pushing for their help right the hell now, instead of demanding, they were setting out plates, Edwin cutting up bread, Randall finding the butter. It was a family here, but more than that, it was one that wasn’t afraid to let them in. Maybe that was just because of what they wanted from Redford, but shit, the stew smelled good and he had a cold beer. Jed wasn’t going to complain about ulterior motives.
    Redford tugged Jed down to sit next to him on the wide couch, nudging his side with an elbow. He looked at Jed, then tilted his head toward Anthony, silently asking if Jed had noticed. Letting out a slow breath, Jed wrapped his arm around Redford and nodded, eyes narrowing slightly as he went back to watching the brothers. “Yeah,” he murmured lowly. “Yeah, I know.”
    “You’re a wolf.” Edwin had appeared at Redford’s side, easy grin as messy across his face as the faint freckles and the wild tangle of blond hair. “I mean, you’re a wolf like us. I can smell it.” Leaning in, he took a deep breath as if to confirm. “Nice to meet you.”
    “I—I’m not really like you. Sorry.” Redford had leaned backward slightly from being sniffed. “I used to be a werewolf. Now I’m somewhere in between.”
    Cocking his head, Edwin studied him. It was the longest Jed had seen him be still yet, those pale-blue eyes tracking across Redford’s face. Then he shrugged, tapping the side of his nose. “Yeah, well, I can smell you. And you’re near enough to a wolf to count. Come on.” He held out his hand. “Dinner’s ready, and Ant’s stew is legendary.”
    Anthony gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Yeah, a legend in this household.”
    “It smells amazing,” Victor piped up, eagerly migrating toward the