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When he said nothing, the temperature in the room seemed to plummet. I shivered. He rubbed my back, but it didn't help.
Since when didn't Clay share his problems with me? Sure, we were notorious for keeping minor issues from one another, trying to solve them on our own. But now clearly something was bothering Clay and he didn't want to share it, and that only fanned the embers of my real worry--that this was what being Alpha would be like.
There was a lot Clay didn't share with Jeremy. There were aspects to protecting the Alpha and the Pack that bothered Jeremy. Like me, he wished they weren't necessary. So Clay did them without sharing the details and Jeremy never asked.
My Alphahood would not be a radical change from Jeremy's. I believed in every reform he'd instituted and I'd continue his work. Most of his leadership style I admired and would emulate. But I wanted to be more
involved. I wanted to be on the front lines, as I was now, not giving orders from the rear. I wanted to know everything that went on, even the parts that bothered me.
"If it has to do with the Pack, then I need to know what the issue is and how you think it should be resolved."
He glanced over. "And if I disagree?"
"As my bodyguard? Or as my mate?"
"Both."
I waited ten seconds, resisting the urge to flip over or move away. I could say I was respecting Clay's space and didn't want to guilt-trip him into sharing. But the truth is that pride kept me from showing I was hurt. So I settled in as if I'd already forgotten it, which I'm sure would have completely fooled him if he hadn't spent almost twenty years learning to read my moods.
"Remember that mutt who stalked you on our honeymoon?" he asked after a minute.
"The Cain kid? Tough to forget, as hard as I might try."
"Do you know why he didn't run away when I first warned him off?"
"Uh, because he's a Cain? Big family sharing one allotment of brain cells?"
"Because he didn't believe my reputation. He'd seen the photos. He insisted they were Photoshopped."
"Over thirty years ago? Kinda proves my point about the brain cells, don't you think?"
"But he's not the only one. Things have been changing. When you and I started working together, mutts ran from us the minute they figured out who I was. Then they started sticking around a little longer, maybe throwing a punch or two, testing my reputation. These days, over half the mutts in the country are younger than those photos. I'm their dad's bogeyman, not theirs. Kids like Cain don't see any reason to run until I give them one. And that was fine... until this." He lifted his arm.
"So? Even with your arm, you can take on guys like that--half your age, twice your size--and the outcome's never in question."
"But ten years ago, I wouldn't have had to take them on. I wouldn't have had to worry about Cain stalking you. The second he realized I was with you he'd have been on the next bus out of town. Now, with you becoming Alpha, the kids getting older... I don't want to keep proving I still deserve my reputation. That was the point of..."
He trailed off. The point of what? I was about to ask, when I understood. That was the point of what Clay had done at seventeen, dissecting a mutt while he was still alive, then taking pictures. I knew it wasn't as horrible as it sounded--the mutt had been anesthetized and out cold the whole time, dying before he knew what had happened. The point hadn't been torturing this particular mutt, but convincing other mutts that Clay had tortured him and that if they trespassed on Jeremy's property, he'd do the same to them.
And when I understood what Clay meant, I really understood what he meant.
"You're thinking... you're thinking of doing it again."
I should have kept my mouth shut until I could properly modulate my tone. I'd just finished sulking because Clay had implied this wasn't something I could handle, and now I said those words in whispered horror, confirming it. I wanted to try again, stronger, matter-of-fact, proving him wrong. Only he wasn't wrong.
Rationally, I knew that in killing one mutt horribly, Clay had protected Jeremy for over thirty years and saved the lives of every mutt who otherwise would have come to Stonehaven to challenge him.
Emotionally, though, I reacted like a little kid, screwing up her face and sticking her fingers in her ears. I didn't want to see it, didn't want to hear about it, didn't want to think about it. And I sure as hell didn't want to think about Clay doing it again.
"It's not important," he said after a minute. "Not now. I shouldn't have brought it up."
"But it's bothering you."
"Bugging me, not driving me crazy. We've got lots to do tomorrow. We need to get some sleep."
He lay back down. When I didn't, he tugged me down beside him, then settled in, one hand resting on my waist, the other tucked up between us, thumb rubbing my collarbone.
"When you... did it," I said. "Jeremy didn't know in advance, did he?"
