They all turned to her.
“Nulls are crucial to maintaining a stable pack. They help balance the energy. We have three in our pack and we’d be lost without them. When the young wolves struggle for control, we have them paired off with our nulls so they can feed the calming vibes and master their dominance over their inner wolves.” Heather shrugged. “I thought all packs knew that.”
Eric groaned. His didn’t and he was pretty sure Brenna’s pack didn’t either. After he’d tracked the feral wolf down in the forest, part of him got lost in the kill. When he returned to the cabin, his wolf had been in control and Eric liked it. He liked the power and the simplicity. He’d stood at the precipice of sanity, almost losing himself to the rage. The moment he caught Brenna’s scent, though, the rage abated. If he’d been standing on a cliff, teetering toward falling over, she pushed him away from danger. It all made sense now.
Dad looked like he wanted to break something, not out of anger, but frustration. “We didn’t know. I didn’t know.”
“You…you need to make this right,” Heather said.
“I intend to.” He’d let Brenna walk out of his life before, but he wouldn’t make that mistake again. He pulled off his sweater and shirt and ignored his parent’s matching frowns. “I need to run first.”
Brutus howled, impatient to run free. He needed to make things right and that couldn’t involve snarling. After he calmed down, he’d make a plan.
Chapter 17
Eric’s stiff suit chafed, and his gaze kept darting to the clock on the wall. His tight collar dug into his throat, and he itched to tear off his tie and run out of the office. The courier in front of him shifted his weight, back and forth, on the other side of Eric’s desk. His face bunched up in displeasure, and his hair stuck to his forehead. At the end of the workday, he probably hated getting called for a last-minute job. He looked ready to drop, but Eric had already promised him extra for this special delivery.
Eric’s hands fumbled to tie the small bow.
Once again, he cursed his parents. Not the first time their scheming and tunnel vision had pissed him off, and probably not the last, but in this particular instance, they might’ve cost him something far more significant than his momentary pride.
Brenna had ignored his calls and texts all week.
Probably deleted his voicemails without listening to them, too.
Being an alpha werewolf didn’t excuse him from the mundane responsibilities of life. Money didn’t magically appear because of his inherent awesomeness and if he ran off to take care of werewolf business all the time, he’d lose his job. He needed to work to earn a paycheque like everyone else. Work had been hectic and inescapable this week, but thoughts on how to make things right plagued his mind.
He hadn’t really done anything wrong. Not during this decade, anyway. Even a herculean effort couldn’t unlatch the perversely strong clutches of Heather Dufaine. And as the daughter of the alpha from an allied pack, he couldn’t just toss her to the side. Heather might not be the wolf for him, but she deserved his respect.
If his parents had kept their projected desires to themselves, or Brenna hadn’t jumped to conclusions and sprinted off like an Olympian runner, he could’ve sorted the situation out, then and there. But no. Fate liked to knee him in the balls any chance it got.
When he’d shuffled back to the cabin after his run in wolf form, he’d found the gears of calculation already turning behind his mother’s green gaze. His dad had moved past the disappointment, anger and frustration, expression turning thoughtful. They probably already envisioned joint-family excursions to the cabins during the summer and winter holidays surrounded by a horde of grandchildren.
He needed to win Brenna back first.
After everything they’d said and done, after everything they’d shared, she’d taken off, assuming the worst, and refusing to give him an opportunity to explain. How could she not know that weekend meant more than a casual hook-up?
The courier cleared his throat. Eric ignored him and continued wrapping the special package.
Eric knew how it looked to Brenna. He knew she doubted all of it. Again.
“You about done, man?” the young courier asked. “Rush hour is going to hit.”
Brutus snarled.
The tone scraped against Eric’s nerves, too, but he shrugged it off. He sealed the small parcel and handed it to the courier. The brown packing paper made it look even smaller in his hands. Would his present be enough?
Would his plan work?
His heart pumped rapidly in his chest as the courier snatched the package roughly from Eric’s hands and slapped a sticker on it. After scanning the box, the courier chucked it in his bag.
Eric’s shoulders tensed, and he clenched his jaw.
His heart was in that little box.
The courier held the scanning device out for Eric to sign without a word. His impatience to get away evident in his tense muscles.
Eric quickly signed his name and handed the courier a tip. The long hand of the clock hit the twelve and signaled the end of the workday, along with Eric’s torturous waiting.
