The Wild Ways Read Online Free PDF Page A

and the sugar she’d just ingested, Charlie found herself suddenly unable to keep her eyes open. “As much as I’d love to keep discussing your crappy parenting . . . Ow!” She rubbed her thigh where Allie’d kicked her again. “ . . . it’s past eleven, I’ve had a long day, and I need to fall over. You going to wait up for him?”
    “I’m not.” Graham pushed his chair back and stood. He sounded pretty definite, but then he’d spent thirteen years killing nonHumans for Kalynchuk and while he’d made his peace with the Gales, that didn’t mean he gave a half-eaten rat’s ass for a half Gale/half dragon.
    Tonight, Allie was more concerned for her city than for Jack in a teenage snit, but she’d fought to have Jack regarded as a Gale boy and Gale boys, vastly outnumbered by the girls, lived in a bubble of protected indulgence. Her view of Jack was as skewed as Graham’s.
    Charlie, who’d spent more time than either of them with his uncles, had trouble seeing Jack as a special snowflake.
    As Graham put the dirty plates in the sink, Allie leaned against Charlie’s shoulder and murmured, “Coming to bed?”
    Before Graham, she wouldn’t have asked. Nor would she have asked right after Graham had chosen, but about six months in, while acknowledging that Graham was both family and not exactly subject to the obligations of blood, the three of them had worked out an effortless arrangement.
    Nothing wrong with effortless.
    The buzz had spread out, defused by whatever charm Allie had baked into the pie. Charlie yawned. “No, I’ll open a sofa bed and talk to Jack when he comes in.”
    “What makes you think he’ll listen?” Graham asked, arms wrapped around Allie’s waist.
    “Novelty. It’s been three weeks since I told him anything he didn’t want to hear.”

     
    When the wind was from the north, like tonight, Jack liked to hang out by the big concrete dinosaurs at the zoo because it only took a minimal glamour to make him look like he was part of the display. When the wind was from the south, he didn’t go near the place because his scent made the animals go a little crazy—okay, a lot crazy—and he’d stopped thinking that was funny when Allie’d gone up one side of him and down the other.
    Even without fangs or claws or fire, she could be way scary.
    Sometimes, she reminded him of his mother.
    He didn’t miss his mother because his mother was like his mother all the time, and Allie was only like that sometimes. When she was like that, then he missed his mother. Only not in a good way.
    He frowned at the small flock of Pixies fluttering around the pole light.
    His mother didn’t care when he went flying or what he destroyed or who he ate. In the UnderRealm, he’d been expected to take care of himself.
    He kind of liked being taken care of. Most of the time, he liked knowing he’d survive the day. But it had been more than a year of days in this world’s time and he knew Allie assumed he’d stay and he liked being a Gale, but he also liked being a Prince and a Sorcerer and they were fine with him being a dragon as long as he was careful, but he didn’t have subjects and . . .
    “Highness?”
    Okay, maybe he had a few subjects.
    The Courts came through all the time, more than even the Gales knew—not that the Gales cared if it didn’t affect the family, they were like dragons that way—but the lesser Fey slipped through with the Courts, and it turned out there were a lot of them here.
    He looked down and frowned. Right here. At his feet. Looking familiar. “What?”
    The Brownie bowed. “I bring a petition asking that you roast . . .”
    “Hold it.” Jack folded his neck and peered down his muzzle—it was never easy focusing on things so much smaller than him. “You’re that Market Mall Brownie who’s totally baked about the outlets, right? Dude, for the seven millionth time, I’m not destroying your competition. Have a sale or something.”
    “It’s a matter of quality,