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“You’re scared for your parents. And you’re scared for the Pack. And you’re scared for your future.”
He looked away, hands on his hips, and arrogance in every gorgeous inch of him.
“Fine. If that’s how it has to be, so be it.” And before he could object—or fight back—I grabbed his hand and pulled him through the yard and around Where-The-House-Had-Been.
“Let go,” he protested, but didn’t make much effort to pull away.
“No,” I said simply, and led him into the back garden.
“Who’s the bossy one now?” he asked.
“Me,” I said, with unerring confidence in the word. “Right now, I’m the boss, because you need a minute to not be. You are burning up from the inside trying to solve the Pack’s problems on your own.”
He looked at me, and the shield fell, and I could see his exhaustion fully now. The urge to do the right thing for the Pack—and his uncertainty about what that was—were wearing him down.
“What do you see?” I asked.
He blinked. “What?”
“What do you see?”
He looked around. “Trees. Grass. Water.”
“Vampires? Shifters?”
“No,” he said. “Not now.”
I nodded. “We have privacy. So start screaming.”
He stared at me. “What?”
I turned to him, put my hand on his chest, just above his thudding heart. “You’re afraid for your parents. You’re angry at the demon. You’re pissed at the interlopers. Let it out.”
“And what will that fucking fix?”
“Well, you’ll feel better, and I won’t worry about you as much. And if you clear your head, you’ll see better what you need to do next. You can even shift if you want to,” I added with a grin. “I’ll make sure no one calls animal control.”
Connor watched me for a long time, then let out a breath that I bet he’d been holding for a very long time.
“I don’t know what to do for them,” he said. “I don’t knowwhat to do about the challenge. The Pack doesn’t like indecision; that’s weakness. They’d rather see a bad choice than no choice at all. And my uncles...” He strode forward a few paces, stretching his arms, then turned back, hands on his hips. “They won’t make a call either way. But they’ve made it pretty clear they think I should wait until Dad comes back... or doesn’t. We’ve had the Pack for so long, and we’ve held the coronet for so long. I feel like it’s slipping from my grasp, and under my watch.”
I didn’t argue. Didn’t contradict or offer solutions, as he hadn’t asked for any. I just let him say the things that were clawing at his heart.
“I’m pissed the Pack can’t see through Cade’s bullshit. I’m pissed he thinks he’s entitled to rule the Pack. The fuckingarroganceof it.” His magic was bolder now, hotter, and seemed to push the chill from the air. “They sit around in Memphis, doing nothing for the Pack’s survival but bitching about decisions made up here. Hard decisions. And they think they know better than the shifters who’ve worked their asses off, who’ve sacrificed, to hold the Pack together.”
He linked his hands atop his head. “I’m pissed a demon thinks she can walk into my city—our city—and pour destruction over it. I’m pissed she hurt you and Theo and stole my parents. I hate wondering if I’ll ever see them again. I hate battling an enemy I can’t see.”
His eyes glittered. “I hate Jonathan Black. He is a grifter and a liar, and he looks at you like you’re a prize.”
That one had me blinking. “Not a prize,” I said. “A tool.”
Connor cocked an eyebrow. “Is that better?”
“No. It just is.”
Connor sighed, came to me, put his hands on my arms. “You aren’t a prize or a tool. You’re your own person. My person.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Is being owned better than being a tool?”
