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I honestly can’t say which side of me would have won in the end.
I like to think my civilized, compassionate, always-in-control Alpha would have asserted itself the way it usually does, but I’m not positive that would have been the case.
I should be grateful for the urgent pounding on the door and Hermione’s voice insisting there’s been a development and I’m needed right away.
Instead, it’s all I can do not to verbally rip my second-in-command’s head off.
Exerting Herculean control, I growl, “I’ll be down to command in five minutes.”
“Make it three,” Hermione says, proving it must be something big. “And I’ve sent for your father, too. He should see this.”
Very big, then. And serious.
My father is still fragile, weak, and exhausted by eight o’clock most nights after spending hours every afternoon with his physical therapist. If Hermione wants to drag him out of his bed then this is next level shit that requires not one, but two Alphas.
And preferably one with upwards of thirty years’ experience managing this pack.
“I’ll be there,” I shout tightly as Willow rearranges her dress, covering her breasts once more.
Which is absolutely for the best, but I still have to fight the urge to jerk the fabric down again and insist she stays bare to her Alpha as long as her Alpha wants her to be bare.
“If you want me to escort Willow back to her room, I can do that now,” Hermione says, proving she’s fucking psychic.
But then, she can probably smell us through the door. We’re both keyed up and giving off mating scents like crazy.
Crazy.
That’s what this is, what she’s making me feel, and the sooner I remove myself from her company the better.
That’s absolutely the right call, but I have to fight to force the proper response from my lips, “Yes. She’ll be there in a moment.” I add in a softer voice to Willow. “I’ll have the phone turned on in your room. Press 0 for the operator. They’ll connect you to room service so you can order something to eat.”
She nods, still dazed and breathless, but when I stand, adjust my robe to cover myself as best I can, and reach a hand down to help her up, she doesn’t take it.
She scoots back on her bottom, then stands on her own, brushing her hands nervously over her dress to smooth it. “I don’t think we should touch,” she says, looking everywhere but at my face. “I…I don’t know what that was. I’ve never felt so out of control from kissing.”
“Then you haven’t been kissing the right men,” I say dryly, feigning calm, though I’m still hard as marble and about three seconds from rushing her, wrapping her legs around my waist, and nailing her against the wall.
I’ve never felt this out of control either, but there’s no time to analyze the issue now.
I have a pack to take care of.
I motion toward the door. “Hermione’s outside. Go. I’ll check in on you later if I’m able. Tomorrow at the latest.”
She nods and runs a trembling hand over her hair. “Okay.” She starts to go but spins back before she reaches the door. “Maxim? If it’s something about the cat shifters, if they’re behind the attack, will you tell me?”
“Why?” I ask, narrowing my eyes on her suddenly guilty looking face.
“I want to help figure out the puzzle, to see why this happened so we can keep it from happening again,” she says, but her pretty green eyes don’t light up from inside.
They stay cool and dim, and I remind my stupid body that she can’t be trusted.
Not yet, not until I learn all her secrets.
Because she’s keeping secrets, of that I’m certain, even before I join my second-in-command in the enforcer offices a few minutes later and see the security camera footage frozen on the screen.
The image is of a woman who looks far more like Willow than I remember.
She’s changed since I saw her last, but that’s Kelley, no doubt in my mind.
