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The clan roars with laughter.
“That’s enough.” I hook my hand around the female’s waist to bring her to stand in front of me. I place a hand over her chest, my forearm under her chin. “This is Marybell. A breeder.”
Whispers spread through the gathering crowd, and then Konce, one of the enforcers, says, “Kilseleians aren’t breeders.”
“Lenox had no problem breeding a Kilseleian,” my brother says, and I nod, thankful for his support. He steps closer and sniffs the female.
The urge to punch him in the nose flares inside me, and I speak through gritted teeth, “Stay back.”
Sparks of magic dance in my brother’s blue eyes. “She gets the pick of the males,” he reminds me. “And you promised whoever is interested will have a fair chance.”
My brother will take her from me. If given a chance, she will pick him or others over me. I shouldn’t have said anything about a fair chance. Since I did, I must uphold my word, for I need the support of the majority of my clan since Dan, my second-in-command, asked for the heads of the McMars who killed his brother.
There are more than a few of my wolves who agree with him.
Division in the clan is the worst possible thing that could happen to us. Winter is coming, and the supplies are low. Before Doug was killed, Dan and others conjured up a plan to steal from the McMar silos while Doug supported my idea of kidnapping the Kilseleian females from the McMar shores.
On his way to the McMar shores, he found a lycan female with whom he formed a friendship. When she turned out to be an omega, Doug thought he’d found a pot of gold. Chasing omega pussy cost him his life, and might cost me my head as well, judging by the way some of the gathered males start spitting on the street and turning away from us.
“Hello, Marybell,” my brother says. By the way he rolls her name off his tongue and then licks his lips, I can tell he likes her.
“Marybell,” I say, hoping to best him in the way I say her name. “This is me brother, Spence.”
“Marybell,” Spence says again with a slight moan to his voice as if he’s imagining she’s sucking on his knob. “It’s nice to have you in the clan.” He jerks his head. “Come, I’ll show you to your hut. I’ve been working on getting it ready for you.” When he extends a hand, I bare my teeth, a growl rising in my throat.
“I said stand back.”
“Ye also said she’s fair game.”
Marybell sways. I catch her with a hand under her knees and the other beneath her back. When I lift her, her head lolls off my shoulder. She looks sickly and unwell, and her eyelashes are fluttering closed.
“What’s wrong with her?” asks someone from the crowd.
Spence leans over her, and I let him. The look in his eyes tells me everything. He thinks the McMars stuck me with a sick female. The clan will rise against me if that’s true. Most of the males would then follow Dan straight into fighting the McMars over the lives lost and for more territory.
It wasn’t until I came to be Alpha that we figured out there are other ways to gain access to ports and that we can farm the lands we already have if we’re not constantly preparing for war. I negotiated peace with our neighbors. Although we’re still poor, we’re better off than we were only a decade ago.
Yet, after decades of suffering the wrath of dragons from the fall of the Fall Fae Court and the McMar wars, building wealth is taking time.
Marybell slurs her words, and even with me understanding some of her Kilseleian tongue, I can’t make out what she’s saying.
“The Kilseleians don’t self-heal,” Spence reminds me.
Fuck. I didn’t think I’d need a healer so soon. “Fetch…someone.” He’ll figure it out.
“And what will you do?”
“Put her in bed.”
“Whose bed.”
“Seriously?” I hiss. “She’s gonna fucking die on me, and you’re worried about getting laid?”
“I won’t die,” she whispers in her native tongue.
Spence points at her. “See. Not gonna die. And if you’re not worried about getting laid, then hand her over and go look for a healer yourself.”
“No way.”
