Chapter One
Gabe
“It’s time for you to take up your responsibilities. I can’t do this forever.”
Not the first time the alpha had spoken this way, but something about his words rang differently. In the past, the demand had held anger, insistence, even a hint of threat. But the tone, as much as what he said, reached deep inside me and rattled my wolf.
“Father, I have told you so many times that I do not want to be the pack alpha. I love you all, but it’s not for me. There are any number of males who would gladly take the position.”
That was a month ago, and although I’d been a hundred miles away when the call came, and although I had no intention of being the pack alpha, I had turned my truck around and headed home. I would not take on the role—but I had to clean things up with my dad, or I’d never be able to move forward in peace.
I’d tried hard—and for a moment even thought I’d broken free, but when I heard my father, the proud male he was, sound so earnest, I had to act. Not that I would be doing what he asked, but maybe I could help him see who should hold that role. The countryside around our pack was beautiful, wooded hillsides filled with wildlife, fertile fields where we grew much of what we ate, and a climate that was moderate in all seasons.
Sure, we got some cold and even a little snow in winter, but hard freezes were rare. And summertime brought long, warm days where the young ran free and grew strong. Pulling up in front of the alpha house, I saw a half dozen young males dart by on their way into the forest. There were trees to climb and streams to splash in as well as all the small prey for their earlyshifts, and I could well imagine that they would be having the time of their lives.
I knew I had. From the moment I could run, my father encouraged me to explore our lands, to learn them like the back of my hand. He reminded me at every opportunity that I would be alpha, would, like all of our people, have stewardship of these lands but even more so than my playmates. As alpha, I would be responsible for all of their welfare, every male, female, and child.
Others were growing to take on roles in the pack as well, but when I was a teen, I suddenly realized that they all had the choice which they wanted to fill. Some would farm, others hunt, yet others learned to build homes or care for livestock. We were a busy group, and I participated in nearly all the activities at one time or another. The alpha needed to know how to do everything on the lands.
I had less time to play as a result and a strong sense of responsibility—and, as my teen years proceeded, a desire to see and know more than this place. Beautiful though it may be, the land could hold tight to those who lived on it, and especially the pack alpha. My teen self dreamed of more, and as soon as I got older, I wondered if there might not be another path for me.
As the laughter of those boys faded into the distance, the door of the alpha house swung open to reveal not my alpha father but my omega dad, a worried frown between his brows. I hurried up the steps to accept his hug.
“Son, I’m so glad you came. Your father is starting to think you might not take over for him. He’s so tired.”
I returned his embrace, wondering how many times I had to say I was not going to be alpha before they would accept my decision. “I’m glad to see you too, Dad. Where is Father?”
“Come and have breakfast before you see him.” Dad stepped away from me and into the house. “He’s in a meeting, and youknow how he feels about interruptions. I think he expected you to be here in time to join…”
“But not once he’s begun,” I finished for him. “I could eat.” I trailed him into the kitchen at the back of the house. Dad loved nothing more than feeding people. Family, pack, he saw it as his job to take care of the health of the people. Many alpha omegas either had staff or allowed their pack members to cook and clean for them, but not my dad. He cleaned the massive home by himself and prepared all the meals for us and the many pack members who always seemed to be at our table. I used to think it was a burden, but as I got older, seeing him beam when someone enjoyed his food or complimented him on how clean he kept the house, I recognized it was anything but. Dad enjoyed his life and everything being mated to the pack alpha meant. He took it seriously but carried out his tasks with a joy I could never aspire to.
One reason I did not want the job my father claimed Fate was handing me was that I doubted my ability to enter into it with the surety both my fathers had. Dad’s job and singlemindedness, Father’s strength and confidence had never allowed him a moment to consider that it might not be the job for him.
Which worked, since he was great at it. No question. They were a super couple, perfect for their positions within the pack, and had thrown themselves into it for so long that they were ready to retire.
Dad set a plate of ham and eggs in front of me and returned to the stove to retrieve a stack of pancakes higher than anyone could possibly eat. “You’re too thin. Do you even eat when you’re not here?”
“Of course,” I spoke around a mouthful of eggs. “But nothing as good as you make.” It wasn’t Dad’s cooking I was avoiding, for sure. Only a shifter metabolism could keep me at fightingweight living under their roof. The outside world had proven a real disappointment in the meals department.
When I’d finished as much as I could hold, I pushed back from the table, wondering if I could make a break for it, but no. One of Father’s betas, Gorzo, appeared in the doorway. “The alpha is waiting for you, Gabriel.”
“Thanks.” No thanks, but it wasn’t his fault. “On my way.” As I exited the kitchen, the beta was taking my vacated chair. Father and I might be Dad’s favorite people to cook for, but everyone in the pack made their way to his table at some point.
I climbed the stairs, feet dragging. Why did I always feel like the boy who’d broken a window or committed some other offense as I approached his office? “Son,” he’d say, “I expected more of you.”
Nothing had changed.
He was on the phone, so I waited in the doorway until he waved me in then sat in the chair in front of his desk. My usual position. I’d walked into homes of friends in the past to find their fathers seated with them, watching television or playing board games or just sitting on the sofa in the living room talking.
But nearly all my memories with Father—aside from mealtimes, where he presided over the table, his presence demanding good manners, were right here in front of this giant desk. About to be told where I fell short.
While I stared at the chip on the front of the mahogany surface, Father disconnected his call and bestowed his full attention on me. “Son, I am disappointed.”
“I understand, Father.”
“Your dad is getting too old for this. I can’t make my mate work this hard, even if he does claim to like it.”
He did like it…but he was also getting older. Guilt. Disappointment.
