She was, in Jack’s words,furious,which… yes. Yes, I imagine she was.
“You bit a stranger,” I say.
“I didn’t—” He stops. “It wasn’t—” He stops again. “I know how it sounds.”
“Tell me you know exactly how it sounds.”
“I know exactly how it sounds.” He looks at his hands. “I didn’t mean to, Ryan. I didn’t decide to do this. It just happened and then I couldn’t take it back.”
“I know you didn’t decide it.” I watch him. “Does she know that?”
The pause that follows is answer enough.
“She left angry,” he admits. “I tried to explain, apologize, and she… She left very fast and very angry.”
“What’s her name?”
“Lola.” He says it with weight, like he’s run the name in his mouth enough times that it’s worn a groove. “I didn’t get a last name.”
I breathe, trying to remain calm. I’m the pack leader, it’s up to me to fix this whole mess and I have no idea how. It’s not like there’s a book I can read to get some help. There’s a council of Alphas but those egotistical asses are a last resort.
“And the partial bond?” I ask. “What are you feeling?”
He looks up. What’s in his face is what I was afraid of from the moment his bond-line flared. There’s guilt and remorse, but something else too. A sort of satisfaction that a partial bond between an Alpha and an Omega carries. One that doesn’t care about circumstances or consent or whether the timing made any sense.
“Everything,” he replies. “I’m feeling everything.”
Archer arrives twenty minutes later. He walks in, reads the room and looks at Jack with the expression he reserves for situations that are bad and require assessment before response. “Partial bond?” he asks.
“Yes,” I confirm.
“With who?”
“An Omega passing through town. They met at The River tonight.”
Archer’s jaw sets. “Where is she now?”
“We don’t know,” I say. “She left angry. She’s somewhere in the town. The bond-pull would tell Jack if she’d left the territory.”
Archer looks at Jack. “You’re sure?”
Jack checks the bond. I can see him do it, the internal reach of a partial bond, something new and raw in him. “Yes,” he confirms. “She’s still here.”
“She’ll be at Doris Harrow’s,” Archer says, almost to himself. “She’s the only place with rooms available.”
Jack looks at him. “You track vacancies?”
“I track everything in this town.” Archer shifts his weight. “What are we doing about this?”
I look at Jack and sigh. “Nothing tonight. She’s angry and she’s right to be angry. Showing up at Doris Harrow’s door at two in the morning with an explanation will not help.”
“I know that,” Jack says.
“Tomorrow,” I reply. “She’ll still be here tomorrow and the bond-pull will keep her in range whether she understands it or not. We’ll give her the night. Hopefully, she’ll calm down by the morning.”
Archer makes a sound that is not agreement and is not argument. The sound that says he’s got strong opinions about inaction and is choosing to trust my read on the situation. “Tristan should know too,” he says.
“Tristan already knows,” I reply. “He would have felt the shift.”
