Deep Dark Secret: Secret McQueen, Book 3

by Sierra Dean

  “I’ve tried to explain what I need from you.”

  “No, you don’t. You act and then explain why you’ve done whatever moronic thing you’ve done and expect me to be overjoyed about it. Do you think I like having this same conversation over and over?”

  “Probably about as much as I like to hear it.”

  I huffed. “I talked things out with Desmond. He won’t be coming over to punch you in the face again anytime soon.”

  Lucas forced a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I don’t want to fight with you.”

  “Neither do I. I’m just trying to figure out a way for us to stop butting heads over everything. There has to be a solution that will keep us from constantly being at each other’s throats.”

  “I can think of one,” a terse female voice said from the entrance to the lounge.

  Lucas looked past me and bit back a grimace, but I saw the line of worry cross his face before he was able to hide it. I knew the voice, so it made me wonder at his reaction. To confirm my suspicions, I cast a glance over my shoulder to see who had interrupted our discussion.

  “Morgan,” I said.

  “Secret.” She jerked her chin at me by way of greeting. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she didn’t look thrilled to see me. That made the feeling mutual.

  Morgan Scott wasn’t a woman I would qualify as beautiful, not in the standard interpretation of it, anyway. Her features were too strong to be considered feminine, and she had a brusque demeanor that didn’t make her a cuddly personality. Her eyes were huge, and if she’d known how to properly use her looks to an advantage, she could play the role of innocent girl next door to a T. But combined with her broad nose and a too-small mouth that never smiled, she looked more like a pissed-off Victorian doll than anything else.

  Right now that doll-like face was turned towards me, and she hadn’t picked tonight to start smiling.

  “Did you need something, Morgan?” I asked when the silence stretched into the awkward zone.

  “Did you?”

  My body went tense, ready to launch across the room at her. It wasn’t just that she was being unbelievably rude, but given my position in the pack, she was well out of line. No wolf in their right mind would speak to someone of a higher rank the way she was speaking to me. And ranks didn’t get much higher than mine in Lucas’s pack. Just because she had taken over some of Desmond’s duties didn’t make her Lucas’s second, and it sure as hell didn’t give her the right to disrespect me.

  “Morgan,” Lucas barked, rising to his feet. He could have said more, given her a verbal beat-down, but he didn’t need to. As king he was capable of projecting his discontent with nothing more than a tone of voice and a hard look.

  Morgan looked properly cowed. She dipped her head in my direction and let her arms fall to her sides. It didn’t keep me from glaring at her, but it did stop me from punching her in the head.

  “My apologies,” she said, her gaze directed at the floor. “It wasn’t my intention to overstep.”

  Like hell it wasn’t.

  “What did you need, Morgan?” Lucas asked, his tone still cool.

  “I was just going to see if you needed me for anything else tonight before I left.”

  “No, I think you’ve done enough for the night.”

  She turned to leave, but I couldn’t help myself. “What was your suggestion?”

  “Pardon?” She turned and met my gaze, caught herself and looked at the ottoman instead.

  “When you came in, you said you could think of a solution for Lucas and I constantly fighting. I’m dying to know what it is.”

  Lucas moved closer to me and put a hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. To the uninitiated, it might seem like he was offering me comfort. But something inside me understood the message within his simple touch. It was a warning.

  “No. Nothing like that. I was being a smartass, I’m sorry.” The flush in her cheeks and her raised pulse told me she was nervous, and a big part of me was happy I’d managed to unsettle her.

  “Good night,” Lucas said, dismissing her as curtly as he’d reprimanded her.

  Morgan opened her mouth like she had something else she wanted to say. Looking up, she must have seen something on Lucas’s face that made her think better of it. If the white-knuckled grip he had on my shoulder was any indication of what was going on in his expression, it was a wonder she was still standing and hadn’t fallen into a bow.

  “Sorry,” she said again, then bolted from the room.

  “I don’t like her,” I announced.

  “She’s a strong leader within the pack, she’s loyal and she’s smart.”

  “You and I have different definitions of smart.”

  “That’s not new.”

  I wrenched my shoulder out of his grasp and rotated it to loosen the tight discomfort he’d created. “I want to talk about our issues, but first things first, I think you need to tell me everything you know about this mate bond.”

  “It’s not that easy to explain.”

  “Will it help me understand why you can tell me what you’re thinking just by touching me? ’Cause that’s a new development.” I was looking at him again, and I’d never seen a werewolf get paler than a vampire. I was on to something.

  Finally he let out a sigh and collapsed back onto the sofa.

  “It’s complicated,” he began, and I got a strange sense of déjà vu.

  “Then you’d best start talking.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Two hours later I was standing in front of Rain Hotel with Lucas, wondering how it was possible for me to miss the good old days where all I had to worry about was my two-way soul-bond.

  And I thought my one-hour memory gap from Columbia was going to be the most messed-up part of the night.

  He was keeping a safe distance from me on the sidewalk while we waited for Dominick to come around with the car. I think Lucas was worried I was going to punch him. But the weirdest part of the whole night was how little anger I now felt towards him. In spite of how upset I’d been about him forcing the mate connection on me, all I felt now was empathy.

  I knew why Lucas had done what he’d done, and I couldn’t find it in myself to begrudge him for it.

  The air was cold and smelled clean, with lingering scents of the salt used to keep the sidewalks from getting too slippery and the flour-and-sugar smell of a nearby bakery preparing for the morning rush.

  Lucas edged closer, still hesitant to touch me, and crossed his arms over his broad chest. In spite of the cold February air, he hadn’t bothered to put on a jacket before we came downstairs.

  “There’s something else I need to talk to you about,” he said.

  I turned away from the nearly empty street and watched him. He was nervous, dancing from foot to foot. I found it endearing I could put him so out of sorts. After all, he was a king, and yet sometimes he still acted like a shy teenager when he was around me. It was equal parts flattering and frustrating.

  “Okay.”

  “Earlier this evening, I called your uncle.”

  My spine got so rigid it might as well have turned to a pillar of stone. “Why?”

  “He and I needed to discuss the situation down south, and I want to see if it can be resolved peacefully. Callum isn’t a stupid man, and anything he can do to stave off an all-out war is in his best interests as well as mine.”

  “Are you going to negotiate with him over the territory?”

  “He’s sending two delegates up this weekend. The plan is to negotiate his withdrawal from our territory.”

  I hugged my jacket tight around me and turned my attention back to the street. Where the hell was Dominick? “Did you force the mate bond because you needed to show a unified front to the delegates?”

  When he didn’t respond right away, I swiveled my head around, and the look on his face told me everything. He had deliberately made me his mate so he wouldn’t look weak to my uncle’s men.

  “Why di
dn’t you say so, Lucas?” I stuffed my hands in my pockets and tilted my head back, looking up at the bright, beautiful lights of the New York skyline mixed with the icy white curve of the moon. “You say I’m the pack protector, but when a situation arises where I can actually prove myself, you don’t have enough faith in me to let me make the decision myself.”

  “That’s not—”

  “No, listen to me, please.” My tone was soft, not demanding. I didn’t want to start a fight with him, but I needed him to hear me out. “I don’t want the East Coast packs to belong to the McQueens anymore than you do. Even though they’re technically my blood kin, my loyalty is to you. To your pack.”

  “Our pack,” he corrected.

  “If you want it to be our pack, you need to trust me with these decisions.”

  “Then I need to tell you something, and I need you to not get mad about it because it’s just me being honest.”

  “I can’t promise I won’t be mad. Given your past behavior it would be a pretty stupid promise for me to make.” I tried to laugh, but his wince told me I’d hit below the belt while the wound was still fresh. “Go ahead, tell me. I can at least promise not to hit you.”

  “It’s nothing I’ve done. Yet.”

  “Okay…”

  “I need you to understand the pack will always come first. Before my own needs, before my relationship with you, before everything.”

  Just what a girl wants to hear: I love you, but I love a bunch of slobbering wolves more. Again, my initial response of annoyance was quashed almost instantly by a swell of empathy. Fucking mate bond, it was going to make it almost impossible to be mad at him. At least when he was able to justify it to himself.

  Removing my hands from my pockets, I closed the distance between us and touched both of his forearms, giving him a gentle squeeze.

  “The only reason you talked to me in the first place was because of the pack. If you hadn’t recognized me as your mate, you never would have included me in all this anyway. I have to respect that your people will always be the most important thing to you.” The words of a pack protector and wolf queen, and they were coming out of my own mouth without being forced. Bizarre.

  He leaned forward without uncrossing his arms and kissed my forehead. I was thankful he didn’t try for more. It had been a long, long night, and I wasn’t ready to be pulled into an embrace quite yet.

  “I’ve invited Callum’s delegates to attend the opening of a new business school I donated to Columbia University.” The moment he said the name of the school my skin got cold, and an uneasy feeling started to bubble up in my tummy. Why was that name everywhere, lately? “I’d like you to come with me.”

  “Okay.”

  “It’s important to me that you be there, so they see you stand with me in all of my decisions, and I… Wait, did you already say yes?”

  I patted his cheek, his skin harder than usual due to the coldness in the air. It felt like touching a wax version of Lucas. “You asked, I said yes.”

  “No fight? No questions asked? No snarky comments?”

  “Come on. Give me a little credit, please.”

  He arched a brow at me and repeated, “No snarky comments?”

  I sighed. “Fine.” Then, with my voice a few octaves higher, in a spot-on impersonation of my vampire ward Brigit, I added, “Did you, like, want me to wear a leash? Or will the diamond-studded collar that says Queen Bitch be enough?”

  There was a long silence, then Lucas roared with laughter. He dipped down and gave me a chaste kiss on the cheek and rested his head against mine. “How did I end up with you, Secret?”

  “Fate. She’s a tricky mistress.”

  Someone cleared their throat, and we noticed Dominick’s arrival for the first time.

  “Pardon the interruption,” he said dryly, “but it’s cold as shit out here. Can we go?”

  I ducked out of Lucas’s reach and jogged to the passenger side of the car. “Thanks,” I said to Lucas as an afterthought.

  “For what?” Befuddlement clouded his expression.

  “For making an effort not to be a royal ass.”

  “Hey.” He shrugged and gave me the coy half-smile he had the night I’d first laid eyes on him. “I’m a work in progress.”

  The moment we pulled away from the corner, worry began to gnaw at me. I still hadn’t figured out what had happened to the hour I’d lost at Columbia, and I needed a sounding board to brainstorm the possible explanations with.

  “Dom, what do you know about magic?”

  The blond werewolf grunted noncommittally and kept his eyes on the road. “I dunno. Witches do spells. Fae have natural magic. Why?”

  “Do you know of any spells that cause memory lapses?”

  “No, but shouldn’t you be asking your grandmother this?”

  Smartass. Of course I should be asking Grandmere, but I couldn’t do that at four in the morning. She might be a witch, but she was also officially a senior citizen. Dominick had obviously never had to deal with a cranky, sleep-deprived witch when she’d been awakened from a peaceful slumber.

  “Just asking.” I fiddled with the car’s heater, lowering the temperature slightly since neither of us needed the heat to be full blast.

  “Penny keeps asking about you,” Dominick said, breaking the silence first.

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, apparently a sword-wielding, leather-clad, and I quote ‘Taylor-Swift-like’ girlfriend of Desmond’s makes quite the impression on a twelve-year-old.”

  It felt good to laugh. Desmond and Dominick’s younger sister, Penny, had been abducted over the Christmas holidays, and after I’d saved her, the Alvarez family had been pretty fond of me. Who knew the easiest way to win over your boyfriend’s family was to save its youngest member from having her brain chewed on by monsters? Penny also had an unnatural obsession with my blonde curls.

  “I should call your mom. She keeps asking me to come for supper.”

  “Forget supper, I think Penny wants to take you for show and tell.”

  A few more blocks and I felt almost normal again. We fell into another companionable silence, and it was nice to be with someone who didn’t want or need anything from me. My time alone with Dominick always seemed like a gift, because he made me feel as close to human as I ever had. I wasn’t defined by my status as an assassin, a mate, a princess or a Tribunal leader. Nor did I have to present a false version of myself like I did whenever I was with Mercedes. With Dominick I was just a friend.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “You just did,” he replied.

  Ignoring his cheekiness, I continued, “Do you ever feel like you got the short end of the stick, somehow? In the pack, I mean?”

  “How so?”

  “Well, your father was Jeremiah Rain’s lieutenant, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And now Desmond is Lucas’s.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And you grew up with Lucas, and he’s now your king.”

  “He was always going to be my king.”

  I’d never thought about it that way. “So it doesn’t bother you that Desmond is in a higher position than you?”

  “No. But that’s not really what you’re asking, is it? You want to know if it bugs me that you are in a higher position than me.”

  Though it hadn’t been the reason I’d asked initially, I had to admit he was right. I did want to know how the rest of the pack felt about me being so high up in the hierarchy, even though I’d never shifted with them and might never be able to do so.

  “Does it?”

  He answered without hesitation. “No, it doesn’t. You’re in the position you earned.”

  “Morgan doesn’t seem to think so.”

  “Morgan is a bit—” He caught himself and stopped. To call a female werewolf a bitch was a huge deal within the pack. Me calling myself one earlier to Lucas wouldn’t be such a big deal because he knew I had a warped sense of humor and a filthy sailor’s mout
h. If, on the other hand, Morgan had called me a bitch, it would be a much graver scenario.

  “Don’t hold back on my account.”

  “She’s loyal and smart,” he parroted Lucas’s earlier words.

  “She’s ambitious and cold,” I added.

  “And she wants your job,” he finished.

  “Yeah, I figured. Is it a common thread among the pack?”

  He shook his head. “No, Morgan is defying the advice of a lot of other pack members whenever she butts heads with you. For the most part the pack respects you. You did a really brave thing when you killed Marcus Sullivan, and we haven’t forgotten about it.”

  “Doesn’t it bother them that I’m never around for the full moon ceremonies?”

  “Sure, but…we can’t really explain the reasons to them.”

  No, that was for damned sure. A pack of werewolves wasn’t going to love knowing their leader’s mate was half-undead. Surprise!

  “I’m worried I’m not ever going to belong in the pack,” I confessed. “I worry Lucas is pinning all of his hopes on me, and I’m going to screw everything up so badly it can’t be fixed.”

  When he didn’t reply, I cast a sideways glance at him. We were stopped at a red light, and he had turned fully in his seat to look at me. “Did you tell him what you just told me?”

  “No.”

  “Did you tell Desmond?”

  “No, I’ve never said that to anyone before.”

  Dominick stared at the red light for a moment before he shifted his attention back to me.

  “I get it, you know? The not-belonging thing.”

  I snorted. “Right. You come from one of the oldest, most well-respected werewolf families in New York. You were raised in this culture, and you’re inside the king’s inner circle.”

  “That last one applies to you too,” he reminded me. “Does it make you feel any better?”

  “No, not really.”

  “The only reason I do belong is because of my family legacy. Part of what it means to be a good pack member is to help carry on the gene pool. Marry another werewolf, make lots of babies, and then hope those babies decide to be Awakened and continue the cycle.”