My alpha strains to break lose and make his claim on Johanna, but he’s a creature of pure instinct, andIknow better. She accepted my apology and my explanation, but that doesn’t mean she’s open to more—or that any dregs of our former love remain in her.
“I haven’t seen her in years. Decades. I’ve apologized for my youthful sins.” No need to share the details yet; let her decide what she wants to share herself or whether she’d prefer I confess to them. “I loved the woman I knew, and I see her in the Johanna I met today, but I have no reason to hope for more.”
Neither speaks. They just stare, their scents settling into a low constant. The air purification starts to catch up, except for the bitter cold wafting from me.
Much as it hurts, I tilt my head to the side, deliberately exposing my throat. My alpha rails, clawing at my insides. The medication keeps him at a distance, unable to wrest control. He wants nothing so much as to stake his claim. His desires reverberate through me, but I made her choose once and know better than to repeat that error.
“No reason?” Shallot raises his eyebrows. Instead of taking advantage of my reluctant submission, his voice is gentle as his lips curve in a wry smile that makes my heart beat a little faster. “She could have refused you entry, but here you are—because she brought you.”
“She had to, at least until you go through the legal hoops of releasing me from whatever responsibility Max put on me.” I tap the nearest document. A flame of hope flickers to life deep within, and my alpha howls for me to fan the fire.
“Neither you nor Nathan are actually named in the trust documents.” Shallot chuckles. “I invited each of you here because Maxaskedit of me when he wrote you. Johanna knows she could say a word and I’d rescind the invitation, but she didn’t.”
He waits and watches, as does Mazarini. They let me process the implications at my own speed, not knowing how I’m battling to keep my alpha from declaring his rights to her.
My non-existent rights—unless she chooses to grant me any.
But this is bigger than that because it’s not a matter of just her and me. They’re talking about thefourof us.
A pack. Something I’ve never had outside of vague dreams.Packmeans all for one and one for all, a collective greater than the sum of its parts, a safety net to catch you if you fly too high.
Or so the pretty brochures from the Alpha Centers would have us believe.
When I was young and stupid—and unmedicated—I swallowed the song and dance almost word for word, though I wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone.
Now, with over half-a-century under my belt, I know better. I’ve never been in a pack, but I’ve seen some in action. More to the point, I’ve raised children and have extensive experience with the kinds of moment-to-moment tradeoffs required when living with and trying to guide others with minds of their own.
Back then, my chance at packing up with Johanna rested on dealing with Max, and I failed the test. Now, it may rest on getting along with Shallot and Mazarini.
No—withCorinandNathan, if I’m going to try.
Ifthey’rewilling to try.
For that, they need to know the kind of person they’re dealing with. I don’t want secrets coming out belatedly and biting me in the cock or ass.
“In that case, there are things you should know about me: I’m on rut suppressors, have been nearly all my life. Lower doses now, supplemented as necessary.” I pat the pocket of pills, trying to ignore the fact that my hand’s shaking—legs, too, and both feet tapping restlessly under the table. “But I’ll never be able to go off them. My alpha isn’t stable without help.”
Just as they’d given me time to think, I return the favor. Both show signs of surprise, but no disgust or contempt, which puts them above certain of my family members.
Corin asks about my experiences with medication and side effects, and Nathan mentions a cousin or two who also take suppressors, along with what he’s heard of their experiences versus mine.
I don’t believe any of the fantasy drivel about packs, but this much rings true: they’re built on trust.
Alpha and man agree that we want a chance with Johanna if she’s willing. I’ve changed—for the better, I hope—and she has, too. Only time will tell if we fit together.
Much less with these two in the mix.
Yet their initial reactions intrigue my alpha. He studies them with new appreciation for the breadth of Corin’s shoulders and the twinkle that comes and goes in his eyes. Notes the elegant curves of Nathan’s shaved head, matching contours of his beard-covered cheeks, and deftness of his fingers as he arranges the papers before him.
As a man, I take longer to fall in love than my alpha, and am less ready to trust my instincts. Still, I start imagining what it might mean to be in a pack with them as well as her.
My mouth goes dry and toes twitch inside my too-tight shoes. The more I want, the more I stand to lose.
When I was young, my first instinct was always to lay it all out and get the worst over as soon as possible. Asking Johanna to choose between me and Max is only one example from a long string of leaping firsts. The longer a person waits, the more rejection hurts—and I’m all about avoiding pain whenever possible.
“There’s something else you should know.” I swallow hard. “I’m the only alpha from a family of betas, most of whom still live in the mostly beta town I grew up in. I have two biological children, beta twins, from a one-night stand with a beta neighbor. She’s now married to another beta, raising four more children likely to also present as betas. I live in a betaneighborhood and work mostly with betas. I have no experience with being in a pack.”
I manage to snap my mouth shut before sharing any more truths that, while pertinent, are better kept in reserve for now.
