“Don’t be ridiculous. She’ll be my Maxima. That’s a position of status.” He ignored the fact that she was a long way from becoming his wife. Hell, as of this morning, he wondered if she’d still be there tonight when he came home. He gave even odds that she’d have already bolted back to Kalamazoo.
“Now who’s being ridiculous? She’s an outsider and that will never change. She’ll be given lip service as your Maxima, but attacked in other ways. People won’t talk to her, won’t accept her help, and will criticize her every chance they get. She won’t be able to function as a Maxima would because no one will let her. That will end up hurting both of you.”
That was a bleak picture. Worse, he knew it was possible. Being alpha was akin to being mayor of a small, insular town. Everyone seemed friendly on the outside, but once you got to the inner workings of the clan? Well, that was a dicey political position indeed. He survived because he kept the various factions in balance. Marrying a fully human woman would hurt that standing. But then, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe he should give up being Max. It was never something he sought out specifically. He just hadn’t wanted psycho people like Nick to take control.
“So be it,” he said. “I don’t need to stay Max.”
“Bullshit. You love being Max. Sure, you complain, but you’re the only reason the Gladwins have held together since your father killed your uncle.”
He winced. That had been a devastating time for everyone. It started out just rocky. No one grieved his uncle’s passing and they were relieved at the sudden release from the violent control that had been the man’s MO. Everyone cheered his father’s kinder, more gentle approach. But within a year, it became clear that his father just didn’t have the organizational skills to keep matters running smoothly. He screwed up key negotiations with neighboring shifters—which planted the seeds of Nick’s discontent—and worse, he had no ability to manage finances. Even at eleven, Carl had understood the disaster in the making. He was the one who convinced his father to hire an accountant and a manager to oversee the daily affairs of the kids camp that had always been the heart of the Gladwin clan. Shortly after his twelfth birthday, Carl started listening in to important meetings.
It wasn’t always smooth, but with his help, his father had managed to keep the Gladwins from disintegrating long enough for Carl to come back from college. The day after he graduated, his father handed him the title and four months later died from a heart attack. There’d been a challenge two days later, but Carl’s bear was in its prime. The fight had been long and bloody, but he’d ended up victorious. He’d become Max in the most animal way. But the widow had been angry and started whispers. Sure, he retained the title, but the discontent had been a constant nagging problem that had eaten at his peace of mind.
But that was the job of the Max. To keep things running smoothly for the good of everyone. And Tonya was right. He was good at it. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t do something else.
“If I give up being Max, I could put more time into finding a solution to the feral problem. I could spend more time with the kids.”
“You’re not a scientist, and you spend time with the kids as Mr. Max. It doesn’t work if you’re not the alpha. It’ll be the other Max’s job. And speaking of which, just who do you think will replace you? Nick was the least nutty of the viable candidates.”
“Why not you? The alpha doesn’t have to be a guy.”
She shot him a look. “Like I want to manage money or listen to an old lady’s complaints about her neighbor’s dog. I’m the least diplomatic person alive and you know it. One bad look from the wolves in Detroit, and we’d be at war with them. No thank you. I prefer to leave that kind of crap to the guy who kept us neutral three years ago when the cats and dogs started killing each other.”
He’d done some fancy dancing then, when the werewolves and the were-cougars had gone at it. It was a short war—only about a year—but it had been bloody on both sides. The populations were still recovering and it had taken all of his human diplomatic skills to keep the Gladwins out of it. Especially since one of the most logical battlegrounds was Gladwin State Park. And what even Tonya didn’t know was that he was the one who brokered the peace.
“I could be your diplomatic liaison,” he suggested.
“Or you could keep doing what you’re doing and not screw with success.” She blew out a breath. “Look, I know you’re feeling all these great things for Becca. She’s everything warm and fuzzy that you adore. She’s also sexy in that hot mama kind of way. But come summer, it’ll change. Don’t destroy both your lives for spring fever.”
Was that what he was feeling? Spring hormones? It didn’t feel like that, but hell, it’d been so long since he’d felt the hots for anyone, how would he know?
Tonya shot him a long look, trying to gauge his reaction to her words. He didn’t give her any. There was too much to consider. Just because every part of his body and soul wanted Becca in his life didn’t mean he was thinking clearly. Or that it was the best choice for everyone. After all, he could give up being Max. He could if it was for her. Plus, it would give him more time to do the things he cared about, like finding a solution for the ferals. But what if she would be miserable here? Tonya was right. As a full human, Becca would never completely fit in. He had only to look at his brother, Alan, to know that. The man did more for the community as a lawyer than any of them could possibly imagine, but he was still considered inferior because he couldn’t shift. How much worse would it be for Becca, without any shifter blood in her at all?
He couldn’t do that to her. She had a life and a business in Kalamazoo. Why would she give that up just to be shunned here? It didn’t make sense, and he’d cut off his right arm before he made her miserable. Which meant the answer was clear.
He couldn’t have her. He’d go back to what he had been doing, which was watching her from afar. Wanting her but knowing it was best for her sake to leave her be even as he taught her adopted son how to be a shifter.
If he’d cut off his right arm to make her happy, then how much harder could it be to cut out his heart?
CHAPTER 19
Becca had never enjoyed housekeeping. It’s not like anyone truly wanted to spend their day vacuuming or throwing out cans of food that had expired ten years ago. But she found a kind of peace in setting Carl’s home in order. And if nothing else, she knew Alan appreciated her efforts. He said so when he came home for lunch. But he was running late, so there wasn’t much time for anything but the usual “Is there any news?” and “Oh my God, this tastes great!” Neither of them had more information and Carl texted a big “nothing yet” every hour, which was enough to make her seriously crazy.
By midafternoon, the walls started closing in on her. She had to get out of the house or commit hara-kiri. So, taking Carl’s truck, she headed out to the supermarket. Forcing the men to eat some fresh vegetables would be a good way for her to burn off excess energy. And she could pretend she was cooking for Theo, too. For when Carl brought him home safe and sound this evening.
She pulled into the Walmart parking lot and picked a spot well clear of other cars. She wasn’t used to handling a truck and didn’t want to damage it or another vehicle as she maneuvered the huge thing into a slot. An hour later, she was cursing the distance as she pushed her cart down the long row. The wind had picked up and her face burned from the cold. Odd that there were two more vehicles parked on either side of her, a truck and a van. There were lots of other spaces closer up and now she’d have to be extra careful not to sideswipe them as she backed out.
She was just running through her meatloaf recipe, trying to remember if there was any ketchup left back at the house, when the door to the truck on her right opened. A thick-jawed guy who seriously needed a haircut stepped out and nodded to her. She smiled vaguely back at him as she pressed the key fob to unlock the truck. And then she heard the door on the van and had her first stirring of alarm.
She turned to look, but it was already too late. Thick jaw guy moved fast, slapping a foul-smelling cloth over her face. She tried to scream, but barely got out a squeak. Her heartbeat slammed against her throat and her vision started fuzzing out. She managed a kick, feeling gratified when she heard an annoyed grunt, but that was all she got. She couldn’t claw his arm away from her face and she couldn’t stop breathing, whatever it was that fogged her mind.
Seconds later, the world went black.
CHAPTER 20
“Aunt Becca! Wake up!”
Becca groaned and pressed a hand to her forehead. What the hell had she been doing? She hadn’t had a migraine this bad since she was fifteen.
