And he’d answered one question to his own satisfaction. Keon had gone to Dnara to find a balance between the human male and the m’weko inside, and come back with ideas far exceeding anything the other Alphas of Vihaan were willing to consider.
For once, the rumours were true, and Keon intended to be an Alpha worthy of the title. Not only accepting each member of his pack as and how they were created, but ready and willing to support them and fight for them when necessary—even when faced with men like Thatcher, who opposed everything Alpha Keon believed in.
Milo prayed to the Mother for his success and continued health. Vihaan could only thrive with more Alphas like Keon.
Chapter Eight
Keon
THE NEXT MORNING, Keon slipped from bed, stumbled to his dresser, and scrambled for the sunglasses he’d brought from Dnara. Putting them on, he cursed Vihaan alcohol. Whatever swill Grier had been drinking, it was ten times stronger than anything he’d had at college. The hangover left by half a bottle could have flattened him if he dared another step.
He would have happily fallen into bed for the day, but Weston had sent a scout to request Farley’s presence. Until he arrived, he’d never get rid of Thatcher. He couldn’t rest easy until the bastard was off his land. Preferably with Vega in chains.
Keon put a hand to his head and staggered to the bathroom. A shockingly cold shower broke the worst of the hangover, and a warm shower made him a fraction more human. As he emerged from his bedroom in loose jeans and a T-shirt, the smell of bacon revived the last of his senses. Weston stood in the doorway to the kitchen, a plate in one hand, coffee in the other.
“You are a beautiful man,” Keon muttered, accepting the sustenance with gratitude. He made his way to the living room to sink into the sofa, placed his coffee on the table, shoved the sunglasses into his hair, and rubbed his eyes.
“Are you alive, yet?” Weston teased, the fondness warming a place Keon had thought cursed to remain barren forever. The flicker of family he’d thought long extinguished.
Lifting a rasher of bacon, he tore off a piece. “Almost,” he promised, aware this was one of their delegated paperwork days.
Best to take advantage of the short time before Farley arrived and discovered how little he’d done with the Alphaship. Changes waited to be made, noted, and recorded. He wanted to abolish Simeon’s laws, implement his, and find a way to secure them, getting them on paper and officiated. Keon hoped Farley would lend his signature, making it easier to implement the changes to other packs and spread the laws acrossE’Boolou.
A comfortable silence took hold as they ate and sipped coffee. Weston was bright and bushy-tailed as usual, but Keon couldn’t complain. Since Weston cooked breakfast, Keon did the clean-up. After, Weston perched on the sofa, an array of paperwork spread across the cleared coffee table. Typical Beta, taking care of his Alpha and pack business without hesitation.
Offering a fresh cup of coffee, Keon took the seat beside Weston. “Shall we start?”
“First, we should formalise the laws you plan to implement,” Weston said, patting the far-left pile of papers, “and move onto Simeon’s laws. We’re halfway through examining them.”
“The third pile?” Keon wondered, eyeing the mass of paper with concern.
“The third is related to m’nuni.”
“Ah.” Another problem, refusing to let him forget Vega, but Keon didn’t intend to rush. “I can’t accept Vega, and I have a few months. Can we press pause on this?”
Weston cleared his throat, knowing it would be a scandal of Simeon’s level to take a mate who had once been mated to another. Though he’d never liked Vega, what Vega had done flouted the laws of m’nuni in all Vihaan territories. To a degree, every m’weko had the right to reject their true mate for another, but the motivation, deception, and lies made it a toxic, evil act likely to send him toreedav. Arrogant and selfish, Vega had committed the one crime Simeon had never stooped to. Meaning, despite his sins, Simeon would go to unimar,while Vega headed for eternal suffering.
Eyebrows scrunched in thought, Weston tapped a pencil against his notebook. “You have always believed in the true mate bond, and it would be a shame to set aside your beloved traditions, but you’re right to follow your heart. You must choose a mate you can trust to stand by your side and not shame you,” he reasoned, giving an approving nod. “We shall set this aside, but I’m duty-bound to remind you time is running short.”
Of course. Trust his Beta to think of everything. “I know. I promise, the minute we’re done with the whole Thatcher situation, I’ll choose a suitable mate.” An Alpha without a mate was at risk of the same idiocy as Simeon—recklessness, fighting, death—unless he had a mate and a potential family unit with the pack. Besides, Keon wasn’t opposed to taking a mate, but he wouldn’t make thewrongchoice.
“Agreed.” Weston lifted the m’nuni paperwork to put into the satchel by his feet. He shut it tight and turned to Keon with warm eyes. “Where shall we start?”
Grateful to have Weston on his side, Keon tapped the relevant pile. “Your plan is best. Let’s get the new laws recorded, then wade through the pile of shit Simeon left,” he suggested, happy Weston chuckled his approval.
The day had started shitty, but this was a great reminder bad days could get better in the right company.
*
OVERWHELMED WITH PAPERWORK, they’d barely made headway within hours. Sparing a short break for lunch, Keon called it quits at four o’clock to send Weston to a friend’s house for dinner. The invitation had come midday and, though it included Keon, he had a previous engagement. His Beta was prim and proper, well liked within the community, and had plenty of friends who enjoyed his company for dinner or an evening hunt.
Keon had other plans.
They’d made a mess going through Simeon’s unreasonable, ridiculous laws, but Keon left the paperwork on the coffee table. They’d divided the pile in two and run through the laws, scrapping the majority, leaving Weston to note them as unacceptable. Noted, dated, and signed to prove they had been officially revoked.
Some were outright ridiculous: any member of the pack could be killed in a fair fight if their actions were justified; possessions of the pack belong to the Alpha and may be taken into his ownership at his discretion.
The laws proved to be Simeon’s guarantee of getting his way, abolishing pack rights to personal belongings, personal choice, and the freedom to govern their bodies. If he hadn’t been killed in a raid, his pack probably would have murdered him.
