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I return Archer’s smile with one that I hope conveys affection and offers him strength. I can tell he’s trying to lighten the situation however he can, so he can cut the tension hanging in the air. I reach out and slide my hand into his, giving his fingers a quick squeeze.
Most of the doors in the hallway are closed, except for the one standing open at the very end. The large bedroom would be cozy if not for the hospital-grade bed, IV stand, and heart monitor. A man that looks exactly like an older, grayer Archer is propped up against several pillows, a book held open between his hands.
The moment he sees Archer appear in the doorway, his face transforms into a beaming smile, and he sets his book on the nightstand. “You’re back!”
For someone who looks so sickly, his voice is booming. Malcolm’s skin is yellow with jaundice, and his cheeks and eyes are sunken. He has the look of a man who was once large and muscular, but who lost a lot of weight, very fast, and for all the wrong reasons. But the wasting appearance of his body hasn’t affected the brightness in his green eyes or the sincerity of his smile.
“Father!” Archer returns Malcolm’s smile with one that’s nearly identical, then leans over to embrace the older man. With the two of them right next to each other, it becomes painfully clear just how sick Malcolm is. “How are you feeling?”
The two men pull away from the hug, and Malcolm shrugs. “As if every organ in my body is shutting down. You brought friends.”
The older man’s vivid green eyes, very similar to Archer’s, study me with interest. I don’t know how much he was told about the mate bond situation, but my cheeks flare anyway under his perusal.
Ridge takes a few steps forward and offers his hand with a respectful, “Alpha Malcolm. Always a pleasure, sir.”
“Alpha Ridge,” Malcolm replies approvingly. “Leading the North Pack suits you, it appears.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“And Alpha Trystan,” Malcolm goes on, turning his gaze to the West Pack leader. “Unusual to see you so far from your territory.”
Trystan nods and clasps his hand politely. “Not much can make me leave.”
“Not much except for this beauty, eh?” Malcolm zeroes in on me, his keen eyes seeming to peer right through me. He holds out a hand, palm up. “Sable, I presume. Welcome to the East Pack.”
My skin burns under his shrewd gaze, and I realize I’m incredibly shy about meeting Archer’s father. I’ve been developing feelings for Archer for a while now, and I almost feel like the old man can sense it. Though that’s a crazy thought, really. I place my hand in Malcolm’s and flush even warmer as he plants a soft, chaste kiss on my knuckles.
He tugs on my hand with a kind smile. “Come a bit closer. My vision isn’t what it used to be.”
I do as he asks, though I extract my fingers from his and cross my arms in a vain attempt to hide my scars. I have a lot of reasons for not wanting him to see them, starting with the fact that the evidence of my abuse still fills me with a bit of shame. Not to mention the horrifying fact that they could turn black at any second, betraying me and revealing the truth. This is exactly why I was so terrified to come here in the first place.
“The council representatives brought news to me of the… interesting turn of events at the summit,” Malcolm says, lifting an eyebrow at his son. “Is it over? Has Sable’s wolf chosen one of you to solidify the mate bond?”
Oh, God. If my face gets any hotter, my skin will burst into flame. I hate the way everyone seems to know about the strange situation the five of us have found ourselves in. It feels private, like something that should be worked out between the men and me with no one outside of our little group peering in.
Fat chance of that though. I’m guessing every shifter in every pack probably knows by now, given how unprecedented this development is.
“No,” Archer replies, his face schooled into an impassive expression. “Dare was injured, so we had to leave the cabin before anything was settled. He’s with Camilla now for healing.”
“Dare? From the South Pack?” Malcolm blinks in surprise. “He came out of isolation?”
“And claimed Sable as his mate,” Trystan says wryly.
“Four of you for one female wolf. My, my.” Malcolm shakes his head. “Well, there’s nothing to do but give it more time now. Unless any of you are willing to relinquish your claim on the girl?”
My heart stutters a little. Surprise that he would ask such a probing question rises up in me, followed quickly by worry about what the men will say.
“Absolutely not,” Archer says firmly, at the same time Ridge says, “No, I will not.” From behind them, Trystan offers a quick, “Not a fucking chance.”
Well. This got awkward.
My cheeks continue to burn hot even as a little zing of satisfaction shoots through me. As stressful as it is waiting for the bonds to sort themselves out, I’m relieved and pleased that none of the men are willing to back down. I don’t want them to.
Archer clears his throat, and some of the tension dissipates. “So I stopped by to make sure you have everything you need. I’m not sure how long I’ll be home. Long enough to get Dare back on his feet, and then we may have to return to the mating cabin…”
As he and the other two men chat with Malcolm for a few moments longer, I’m left thinking of the iron-clad surety they had as they reiterated their claim to me.
Nothing has changed for Ridge, Archer, and Trystan. Not like it has for Dare, who’s down for the count and lying prone in Camilla the healer’s cabin. He’ll no longer let me touch him. Hell, he won’t even look at me right now. So I can’t help but wonder what his response would have been to Malcolm’s question.
