Chapter Twenty-two
JASON
The dew was still wet on the grass when Jason slid into his car and headed down to Elk Ridge. He was too excited to sleep, even though he’d covered miles in the early hours of the morning, claiming pack territory and ensuring there were no signs of any intruders. Excitement was thrumming deep inside him and would not be denied. Riley was his mate.Rileywas hismate.
Jason knew that Riley hadn’t planned to stay, that he had a life and career far away from here, but he was sure Riley would stay once he knew. A writer could write from anywhere, after all. Though, Jason had to admit, it could be argued that a cook could equally well cook anywhere.
He shook his head impatiently as he turned into the motel. He wasn’t going to think like that, borrowing trouble ahead of time. Somehow this would all work out, he just knew it. Because behind that door with the crooked number seven on it was Jason’smate.Jason couldn’t wipe the grin from his face. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to stop smiling again.
Moments later, his smile was faltering. He’d knocked on the door twice, and there was no answer. Riley’s car was here, though, so he must be in. Perhaps he was deeply asleep. Or maybe he’d gone out to get coffee—he’d complained the stuff from the vending machine was undrinkable.
Jason knocked once more and then tried the handle. To his surprise, the door opened beneath his touch. Poking his head in, he found the bed covers thrown back and a light showing beneath the bathroom door, from where he could hear the unmistakable sound of a shower running.
For a wild instant, Jason was tempted to strip off his clothes and join Riley in the shower, but then he realized such a sudden and unexpected intrusion might give Riley a heart attack. Regretfully, he decided against it. Instead, he closed the door behind him, sat in the green armchair that was the ugliest thing he had ever seen, and waited for Riley.
Riley’s laptop and notebook were out on the desk, along with two empty energy-drink cans. He’d obviously been working on his book. Jason didn’t mean to be nosy, but the notepad was open and lying right there and if he just crooked his head very slightly, he’d be able to see how it was coming along.
The first thing he saw was a list of the names of the pack. He couldn’t blame Riley for writing them down, because being introduced to so many new people all at once must have made it difficult to remember who was who. But then his eye caught a word that froze the air in his lungs.
Argent.
A rushing sound filled his ears. His pulse thudded in his throat, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe.
He stared at the pad, willing himself not to move. As long as he didn’t look closer, he didn’t have to know.
But he knew that he did. As he reached out, his fingers fumbled. It wasn’t until the third attempt that he managed to pick up the notebook, his hands trembling as if it were a snake about to strike.
Riley’s neat, organized lists and charts swam in his vision. Dark spots danced before his eyes, and he thought he was going to be sick.
Employment histories, previous pack affiliations, social security numbers—laid out like profiles. As if Riley had been cataloging them, piece by piece, like specimens under glass.
They were all there. The pack, and only the pack, except for Jason. His name wasn’t on the list. The air left his chest in a hollow rush. It was almost worse, seeing himself missing. Like he hadn’t mattered enough even to betray.
Jason’s hand shook as he dragged Riley’s laptop toward him, frantically jabbing at the keyboard until the screen flickered to life. Damning words stared him in the face.
“The secret they don’t want you to know!
“A tiny, mysterious shifter pack might just be hiding a secret that could overturn everything we thought we knew about shifters—and with it, catapult the leader of the pack to ultimate political power.”
Jason’s vision blurred, something white-hot and nauseating burning in his throat as he scanned the words. Paragraph after paragraph of slick, clinical dismantling. His family, reduced to caricatures. Bryce’s jokes, Jesse’s grammar, Matt’s leadership, all twisted and exaggerated, and written with a sneer.
The article compared each of them with the dignified, powerful Argents of old and found them wanting in every way. Every single one of them except Jason. He wasn’t there at all.
His wolf prowled, restless and furious, under his skin, but beneath it was something far more fragile. He’d let himself believe. Let himself fall so easily into the fantasy of belonging to Riley without question, without needing to prove himself.
And Riley had never wanted him.
The bathroom door swung open. Riley sauntered out, rubbing at his hair with a towel and humming to himself. Completely carefree in his duplicity. And then, he looked up.
He froze, mid-step, and jerked backward, swearing loudly as the towel slipped from his hand.
“What the—?Jason? You scared the shit out of me. What are you—” His words cut off as his gaze flicked to the laptop. To Jason, and his white-knuckled grip on Riley’s notepad. The color drained from his face.
Jason rose slowly to his feet. His wolf’s fury rolled through him in waves, coiled in every muscle, powerful and ready to strike.
Riley’s throat moved as he swallowed.
“Oh, God,” he said hoarsely. “You know.”
