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It had to have been well into the early morning hours when we finally went to sleep. It was already our plan to wake up late, eat a lazy brunch together, and then maybe poke our heads out so that our packmates know that we’re still alive.
But that wasn’t supposed to be until much, much later. By my internal clock, I can tell that I’ve gotten maybe… five hours of sleep? Definitely not enough. Considering my mate got up without me, I should probably roll right over, taking advantage of Ryker’s uncharacteristic disappearance from our bed to stretch out and go back to sleep.
Maybe if his disappearance wasn’t uncharacteristic I would’ve. But that’s the thing. He rarely leaves our bed without me knowing about it. The damn wolf even wakes me up to tell me when he’s got to take a piss! So unless he tried and I slept through it—which, yeah, is possible when you sleep like the dead—Ryker didn’t tell me because he didn’t want me to know.
My stomach tightens, some of the old, niggling insecurities rear their ugly heads.
Oh, yeah. There goes any chance of me sleeping again.
It’s only been a week, I tell myself. It’s only been a week since the ceremony that made Ryker mine for good. It’s not surprising that my default is to remember his rejection. That, and how secretive he was when I first came to live in Accalia more than a year ago. Eventually, it will sink in that he isn’t trying to hide things from me on purpose. As the Alpha, he’s used to making decisions and having them followed, no questions asked.
Then there’s me. Who can’t help but wonder where he is now, why he didn’t tell me he was going, and is totally going to ask about it.
Just as I grab my covers, ready to throw them back and scrounge up some clothes, I hear something. No. Not something.
Voices.
I hear voices.
One of them is Ryker’s. Makes sense. But the other? I can’t really tell whose low voice his humming in response to Ryker’s short, clipped tone, but it’s male. And, yeah. I’ll blame the last steps of the mating dance for the overwhelming relief that hits me when I realize that it’s another male out there.
Pack business. It’s gotta be. Even though we’ve spent the last week in our own little world—me pretending Muncie doesn’t exist, Ryker telling the pack not to bother him unless it’s necessary—an early morning wake-up call for the Alpha was bound to happen sooner or later.
If I focus, I can probably pick out exactly what they’re saying, but I decide not to bother. I mated Mountainside’s Alpha. I’m going to have to get used to our packmates demanding his time—
My fingers clench the comforter in my grip.
Wait a sec.
When we’re in the Alpha cabin, the den is open to every member of the Mountainside Pack. Everyone is welcome.
But we’re not in the Alpha cabin. We’re in Ryker’s personal cabin—and unless it’s a real emergency, not a single wolf will interrupt us while we’re still in the honeymoon stage of our mating, especially in Ryker’s personal territory.
So does that mean it’s an emergency?
Crap.
The Mountainside Pack still doesn’t have a Beta so, if itisan emergency, they would have no choice except to bring it to Ryker. Warren said that he’d stay the acting Beta for as long as his Alpha needed him to, but it’s more like a wolf simply filling the open role instead of actually taking on the duties.
Though we haven’t really talked about it—murder and betrayal definitely don’t make the best pillow talk, let me tell ya—I know Ryker took Shane’s death harder than he wants anyone to figure out; I also suspect that, deep down, he thought he could redeem his old friend. If it was a choice between me or Shane, his mate would win, but until Shane issued the challenge during the Luna Ceremony, there was always a chance he would come back to the pack.
Trish Danvers did. Why couldn’t Shane?
Simple. Because Trish was manipulated, and Shane was the one doing the manipulating. And, sure, you could argue that Shane had been manipulated, too, by Wicked Wolf Walker—
Ugh. There goes my poor queasy stomach again.
Ihatethat guy. And, sooner rather than later, I’m going to have to deal with him. I might not have the same worth now that I’m mated, but something tells me that that’s not going to stop my sperm donor. As far as he went to try to get me to return to the Western Pack after all these years, I’m convinced he’s only getting started.
Claws crossed that I’m wrong. For the first time in my life, I really, really want to be wrong.
I just don’t think I am.
Though the Mountainside Pack closed ranks ahead of our mating, it still got out. No denying that. Shane showed up ready to interrupt the public part of the ceremony which meant that, somehow, he knew we were having one. Most mated couples don’t, and the big spectacle has fallen out of fashion with some of the more modern Alphas. Though there was a good chance that we’d finally bond under the latest full moon, he wouldn’t have known that we were having an actual ceremony unless someone told him.
And if that got out, what are the odds that we’ve been able to keep Shane’s death under wraps?
It’s been a week. Was that long enough that news of his challenge—and failure of that challenge—to get out? To, say, the West Coast?
