Page 86 of The Alpha’s Heir

“Did you tell him?” Roman asked. He was a statue as he came to a halt in the yard and his face turned to stone, but I could feel the worry and barely contained desire he had for me swimming just below the surface.

I nodded, not sure how to process all these new emotions I felt coming from Roman. He didn’t know that the mate bond gave me a deeper insight to his world, and I wondered how much he felt of mine.

When his expression softened as he glanced at me, I felt my heart sing.

He turned to Justus. “I need to apologize for sleeping with your fiancé when she was in heat before we broke off your wedding.”

Roman didn’t see the knife hand I was slicing at my neck, trying to get him to shut up as Justus frowned, and my dad started growling on the porch.

“Not all the details,” I cried.

“We’re still getting married…” Justus blinked. “You slept with her?”

Anger flared through Roman and he tightened his fists. “What do you mean the wedding is still on?”

My dad’s coffee mug shattered as his growl filled my head. “He took advantage of you during your heat?”

For gods’ sakes, make it stop.

“Dad. Justus. You two go have a drink.” I cringed, shoving my intended husband toward my father before grabbing my mate’s hand. “Roman, you and I are going for a walk.”

31

Roman

“Come on, I want to take you somewhere special.” Meg’s hand was in mine as we walked through the forest. Wet branches hung heavy above, keeping most of the rain off our heads, and the scent of rich earth—I’d guess you’d call it—was everywhere.

There were so many sounds out here. The croak of bugs. Wings of birds. Mossy, rotting branches crunching under our feet. Water rushed up ahead.

I’d left Staff Sergeant Marcus with the news that he might need to assume command of our little unit upon return to the city of Ethica when I’d be formally charged for dereliction of duty. It’d be better for his career if he were the one to bring me in.

He’d taken it about as well as I’d thought he would, cussing and threatening to punch me in the nose. For now, he’d remain on watch until I returned, and then we’d go back to Ethica where I’d face whatever punishment was coming.

Court-martial. Reduction in rank. Dishonorable discharge…

As long as she was safe, it’d be worth it. And I’d find a way to get back to her once I served whatever time they tacked onto my sentence. I just wanted one more minute in this dream where I got to hold her and pretend this story had a happy ending.

Meg stopped walking, and I assumed the somewhere special was here.

The river stretched before us at least fifteen feet wide with banks of pebbles and stones lining either side. It ebbed here on the bend beneath the canopy of trees, turning in lazy swirls before quickening towards the frothing rapids downstream.

“It’s my honey-hole,” she said, suddenly shy like I’d never seen her before. “My dad found it when I was a kid, and then I took it as my own. It’s the one place I could come to be alone and think. Do you like to fish? Or… I guess that’s crazy. You don’t know what fishing is.”

I couldn’t help but smile as I watched her fumble with our differences. “I know what fishing is. I’ve read plenty of books.”

“Not all the books.” She shook her head sadly. “Katrina told me that you don’t have magic in the books in Ethica.”

Our fingers were still laced together, and the powerful river rushed by our feet as we stood under the canopy of trees. This was magic.

I needed to keep at least one foot in reality. “You’re right. Most of the books the citizens read don’t have magic in them. The gods, the ancient stories of shifters and humans… That knowledge is lost to my generation.”

“But you know them?” The way her big eyes turned to me, as if they could see everything I’d ever hidden. I got the strangest feeling that if I reached out, I could sense all her secrets too.

“I do know.” I swallowed past the raspy sound of my voice. “My father—and others—we kept the stories alive.”

“Others? Like the lower-class citizens they were talking about?” Meg frowned, but I couldn’t stand having her pity. Not now, especially when it felt like we were finally on equal footing in the chaos that would come from our decisions.

“The ones that needed more hope, yes,” I told her. “We share stories like secret wishes of encouragement at night to teach our children to keep going in a world that doesn’t have much hope for them.”