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Has he changed his mind?
Would he relinquish his
claim to me if someone gave him that choice?
Honestly, I’m not sure I even want to know.
11
Ridge
We’re a subdued group as we say our goodbyes to the alpha and leave his house. Some of the levity and politeness seemed to seep out of the atmosphere after Malcolm’s question about whether or not any of us would give up our claim to Sable.
Back at the mating cabin, we were able to live in the present, build upon our friendships, and get to know Sable in slow, sweet moments. It genuinely felt like we were just five friends getting to know one another better on a backwoods vacation.
But now, back in the real world of the packs, things are different.
There’s a definite line in the sand between the world that existed in the mating cabin and the world out here. Archer and Trystan look more like competition and less like friends. And I’m feeling antsy too, with a deep pull to return to my people and make sure everything is okay. Even in my best moments with Sable, I haven’t been able to shake my concern over my brother Lawson and what kind of trouble he might stir up while I’m gone.
But I can’t leave Sable—not while she’s dealing with everything that’s happened.
I’m torn between this beautiful woman and my duty to my pack, which isn’t how the mate bond is supposed to be. The mate bond is all-consuming, sure, but usually when two people are bonded, it doesn’t stand in the way of normal duties. Usually, what’s best for one’s mate is best for the pack too.
In this unorthodox case, my drive to protect Sable could endanger not just my pack, but all of the packs.
I refuse to focus on that right now. I can’t. I just have to do my best to not let my worries come to pass. So I shove all those thoughts away and fall into step beside Sable.
Archer lives just a few houses away from his father in a small house hardly bigger than the mating cabin. The place smells a bit musty with disuse, and as we enter, dust billows in the slants of evening sunlight coming through the curtains. Archer glances around with a look of horror on his face, as if he’s ready to drop everything and clean.
“It’s not much, but it’s home,” he says, glancing at us. “I’ve got some meat in the freezer, and some potatoes in the cabinet that hopefully aren’t sprouting wings. Anyone up for dinner?”
“That sounds great,” I offer when nobody else breaks the awkward silence. “I’ll help.”
We pile our bags in Archer’s small, sparse bedroom, then migrate to the backyard where he has a large charcoal grill and a picnic table that’s weathered a few mountain storms in its time. While I get the flames going, he helps Sable and Trystan get settled at the wooden table with a cold case of beer. Both help themselves to a can, but neither speak. There’s a touch of sadness to Sable’s eyes, and I wonder if she’s thinking of Malcolm.
Honestly, I was pretty shaken up by his appearance too. He’s a lot worse off than he was last time I saw him.
For a while, we’re all lost to our own thoughts. Archer wraps the potatoes in tin foil with butter and salt, and I place them over the charcoal to get cooking. We tag team the hamburgers, mixing the meat with a variety of ingredients before we pat them into circles and toss them onto the rack beside the potatoes.
While the food cooks, I grab a beer of my own and sit in the empty chair beside Sable. She’s staring down into the black hole of her can as if it might hold all the answers she’s seeking. I can tell she’s lost in her head, still trying to process everything she’s been through. I wish I could help her, give her some kind of reassurance that it won’t always be like this and things will get better.
But it’s not like I have any kind of experience with this particular situation. The mate bond, the witch transformation—this is all uncharted territory. Any of the reassurances that sit on the tip of my tongue would sound stupid and dishonest, too vaguely optimistic without anything to back that optimism up with.
So the four of us sit in companionable silence and finish our beers, keeping our thoughts to ourselves.
Another beer later, Archer brings out ketchup, mustard, and slightly stale buns. We make our plates, unrolling the soft baked potatoes and slathering them with more butter while Archer apologizes for not having sour cream, cheese, or bacon.
I’m too fucking hungry to care about the condiments one way or another. I tear into my sandwich, watching Sable eat from the corner of my eye. Everything she does, she does gracefully, purposefully—even eating a hamburger. It’s a beautiful quality and reminds me there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep her safe.
“We should discuss a plan to ensure Sable’s safety,” I say.
My voice startles everyone at the table. Sable drops her hamburger to her plate with a squeak, while Archer almost knocks over his beer and Trystan misses his potato with his fork. We’ve been silent so long, I think everyone expected it to continue.
“She’s safe here,” Archer says quickly, then reaches over to squeeze Sable’s hand. “You’re safe here, I promise.”
“I don’t mean physically,” I assure her. “I mean because of her new witch magic. We need to ensure nobody finds out.”
A pink blush creeps up Sable’s cheeks. “I told you all this was a bad idea—”
