Filed To Story: Alpha's Regret: His Wrongful Rejection
Beautiful.
Soft.
Sweet.
We end up in our nest every time, and I fall asleep content and sated, and wake up with the fear invading my chest like icicles.
And then comes the morning when Bevan and Seth Rosser hike into camp.
Cadoc and I are sitting by the fire, and Bevan hoots from a distance so I’ll know it’s him. Cadoc and I both rise. I grab Cadoc’s arm so he stands down.
They look like hell. Bevan’s lost at least fifteen pounds, and he was lanky to begin with. He’s dragging like his joints are stiff.
Seth hasn’t lost weight, but there’s a fading bruise on his cheekbone and a cut above his eye. He’s dragging ass, too.
Cadoc tells me to stay put, strides across the clearing to Seth, clasps his hand and slaps his back. “What news?”
“None good.”
Cadoc nods to me, and as I run to Bevan, I realize with an uneasy shiver that I waited for that nod before I joined them.
It’s forgotten in a moment as Bevan wraps his arms around me and lifts me, spinning, and my nose is filled with home.
“Put my mate down,” Cadoc says, but there’s no hostility in his voice.
Bevan does, holding me at arms’ length and giving me a once over. “What’s that on your neck, cousin?”
My fingers fly to my claiming mark, and my skin heats. “You know what it is.”
“Where’s yours?” Bevan asks Cadoc, grinning.
Our bond twinges. I know he wants me to claim him back. When we’re in the nest, he gives me plenty of opportunities. After we mate, he’ll haul me on top of his chest and cradle my head in the crook of his neck as he strokes my spine.
I’m not withholding it to be cruel or for revenge or anything like that. Cadoc’s my mate. I wouldn’t want to see him go.
It’d break me apart, to be honest.
My wolf is all for laying claim to him. She’d be happy to do it herself, but she’s hanging back. I think we’re probably past the “no more shifting” point in the pregnancy, or we’re really close. She’s less physical in my imagination these days. She’s more abstract—an impression of a big-ass wolf.
I don’t really understand what I’m waiting for, but I’m waiting for something. I trust myself. I’ll know when it’s right.
But I don’t like that Cadoc hurts, and not only because it hurts me through the bond. Cadoc is pack now in a way he wasn’t before. We are a pack of two, bite or no bite.
“Why are you here?” I change the subject. “What’s happened?”
“Can we sit and eat and talk?” Bevan asks, already moving toward the trailer, his nose twitching.
“There’s jerky in the cabinet.”
“I know,” he says.
Seth’s been taking this all in, straight as a soldier like usual, his dark eyes troubled. The fear in the bond swells. Despite the coolness, I break out in a sweat. This is it. Whatever Cadoc has been dreading. It’s this.
I follow him to the fire, and we lower ourselves to crates. Seth takes a water bottle from the rucksack on his back and drinks deeply.
I tense from head to toe. Cadoc sits close beside me, his hand resting my knee, proprietorial. It comforts me, helps me think past the agitation the bond is stirring in my brain.
Bevan joins us, mouth full, a bag in each hand. “Anyone?”
We shake our heads.
Seth clears his throat and addresses Cadoc, the second reporting to his alpha, so strange out here in our private wilderness. “When your mate left, the council decreed that scavenger rations be halved for the next moon as consequence for their ‘disorderly conduct’ in drawing me and the others off.”
Cadoc’s jaw tightens. “What business was that of the council?”
“None. With you gone and Brody acknowledged as heir, they feared unrest. It was an excuse to come down on the Bogs. Remind them of their place in the hierarchy.”
I can feel Cadoc’s disgust. Over what, I wonder? I believe he would not want to see my people hurt over his decision, but can he see the rot in all of it?
“And my father went along with this?”
“He was intervening with the council when he was called to Salt Mountain to mediate an incident with North Border. A stolen female.”
“That timing is—” Cadoc’s eyes glint. He’s working things out in that mechanical brain of his.
“Convenient?” Seth offers. “Suspicious?”
Cadoc lifts a shoulder. “Then?” he prompts.
“With Madog gone, Alban cut rations to the Bog entirely. He told them to hunt for their food.”
“It’s the end of winter.” My eyes find Bevan’s. The woods around Moon Lake are over-hunted as it is. It would’ve taken a few days to strip them bare. “How long ago did they cut rations?”
“Fifteen days,” Bevan answers.
They have minimal stores. They sent most with me. They’re starving.
I spring to my feet, grabbing Cadoc’s hand. “We have to go. We have to help them.”
Cadoc’s eyes find and lock onto mine, and as the steadiness of his gaze clears my mind, the bond begins to run clear. The fear is diluted until it’s gone, calm determination in its place. Cadoc isn’t thrown. He’s been preparing for this. He saw it coming.
Cadoc squeezes my fingers. “Will you go back with me, Rosie?”
“Of course.”
His voice drops low. “Can you trust me, Rosie Collins?”
I expect doubt, wariness. The quick, buzzing part of my brain is already thinking of the words to form a lie and make a promise I know I can’t keep.
Yes, I trust you.
I anticipate it, but it doesn’t come.
I cock my head. “You’ll protect me.” It’s the truth. I’m certain of it in my bones.
“I will.”
“You’ll help my people?” That, I don’t know.
“Our people,” he says.
And it’s not a promise or a vow, it’s more than that. It’s a claiming.
“Okay.” I squeeze his hand.
“Okay,” he repeats. “We go.”
It takes minutes for Seth and Cadoc to clear out the Land Rover—while Bevan polishes off a canned ham—and then we’re bumping eastward, back toward Moon Lake.
* * *
When we arrive at the Bogs, it’s eerily quiet. It’s mid-day. The pups and young folk should be at the Academy and some adults will be downtown, but there’s always males like Uncle Dewey sleeping off a drunk or females like Drona sweeping out the trailers or minding the babes in arms.
There’s no one. It feels like the Empties. Prickles creep up my spine.