by RJ Blain
I sighed. “Without me, he wouldn’t have been in that situation in the first place.”
“I wonder about that. They wanted you, but why? Was it because they wanted you, or was it because you are close to Sanders? With a pack as strong as Seattle’s, it’d take Yellowknife’s pack to mount a successful challenge. If you catch the Alpha, you have the pack. If you catch the Alpha’s female, you have a good chance of catching the Alpha—especially if he loses his head. All it would have taken was a Fenerec watching Sanders for five minutes to know he was trying to court you. If it’s a group who had been working with that sorcerer, Sanders was probably the target from the start, and you were the one caught up in the resulting mess.”
If anything, Wendy’s admission made it worse. “Doesn’t that mean you’re at risk now, too? Desmond’s our Alpha now.”
Wendy grimaced. “We’re always at risk, Sara. That’s just part of who we are. Our job is to take over entire packs if needed. Any wolf capable of that is wanted by everyone. Fortunately, we tend to have a lot of Inquisitors lurking around, keeping an eye on the property from a distance. At least these arrangements will make the Shadow Pope happy. With Sanders and you staying here for a while, a full-out assault would be necessary for someone to grab you. Should they try, we’ll win, and we’ll put an end to this once and for all.”
“Do you know who is behind all of this?”
“Not a clue. Whoever it is, though, they’re good, and that’s a problem. Once word spreads you two were recovered, I hope they panic and make a mistake. Until they do, I don’t know if we’ll be able to catch them.”
By the time the stew was finished, I wasn’t hungry.
My wolf, however, thirsted for revenge, and I played along. Our mate was her target; she remembered his theft of our deer and the other animals we had killed. She remembered his bites, and with him human again, she was ready to exert her dominance over him.
To keep Wendy happy, I took a bowl of stew and kept it in front of me, pretending to eat while I listened to the table chatter. Richard sat across from me, with Nicolina across from my mate. Everyone else watched Richard and Desmond as they discussed the fate of the SUV.
“It’s old,” Richard declared, chomping at his spoon as though his enthusiasm for his food proved some point. “Shoot it and be done with it. I’ll even go with you to the dealership. When your SUV is older than Sanders’s truck, it’s a problem.”
Laughing, Desmond pointed his spoon at his son-in-law. “Stop instigating a car war. It’s not hard to have a vehicle older than his truck, Richard. It’s new.”
“I miss my old truck,” my mate grumbled, poking at his stew.
“Damn it, Sanders! I already said I was sorry,” Nicolina complained.
Pouting made my mate all the more handsome, and I forgot about my plan to steal his food, enthralled with staring at him. “What happened to your truck?”
My mate pointed in Nicolina’s direction. “She happened.”
“Someone please explain to him it was not my fault.”
“I love you very much, Nicole, but I’m pretty sure it was your fault,” Richard replied.
“Maybe if you hadn’t been distracting me, I wouldn’t have hit his stupid truck!”
Desmond cleared his throat. “In my daughter’s defense, you had been taunting her quite a bit, Richard. Perhaps if you hadn’t immaturely used a quartet of rabbit’s feet, she wouldn’t have felt the need to fling my baseball bat at you.”
“I was trying to give her better luck,” Richard replied, narrowing his eyes at his mate. “It didn’t work.”
“Maybe if you hadn’t given me the rabbits without their feet, I wouldn’t have hit his truck instead of you.”
Snickering, my mate propped his elbows on the table, staring at Nicolina. “Tell them what happened to the feet.”
While he was distracted, I stole the large chunks of deer meat from his stew, leaving him with nothing but vegetables. Wendy watched me, arching a brow. Burying my plundered meat at the bottom of my bowl, I nibbled on my vegetables and waited for my mate to discover the theft.
“Give me a break. Stuffing bloody rabbit feet under my pillow is not going to give me good luck.”
“I don’t know, it gave me good luck. You missed me with the bat,” Richard replied.
Sanders snorted. “At the cost of my truck.”
“And at the cost of your dinner, too,” Desmond said, pointing at my mate’s bowl. “Pay more attention.”
Sanders stared at his stew before turning his attention to my bowl. His eyes narrowed as he searched the dark broth for any evidence of his meat. With a puzzled expression, he met my gaze.
I deliberately reached over and took one of his potatoes, all without looking away from him. “I’m sure your truck deserved it.”
Nicolina laughed. “See? She’s on my side.”
“Let this be a lesson to you, Sanders. Never steal your mate’s kill. You may end up standing there, sighing and drooling pathetically, all the while wishing she’d share, but never, ever steal your mate’s kill. You have chosen poorly,” Richard said, once again smiling at Nicolina.
“Shut up, Richard. You’re digging your own grave. Last hunt, you stole my damned rabbit right out of my mouth, you freak.”
“It wasn’t dead yet. Until it’s dead, all is fair,” he replied.
“What did he steal from you, Sara?” Wendy asked, leaning towards me.
“The first time, he stole my doe,” I replied, sniffling. “I also downed a buck all by myself, and he stole that, too.”
“Little thing like you took down a buck?” Desmond asked, the surprise in his scent strong enough to make me sneeze. “I saw you at the Mississippi; there was no way you weighed in at any more than forty or fifty pounds soaking wet. I about ripped your head off pulling on your leash, thinking you weighed more than you did.”
“She may not weigh much, but she’s really good at breaking legs,” my mate said.
I narrowed my eyes and defiantly took another piece of potato. “You remember that?”
“It’s one of the bits I do recall. I vaguely remember being furious at you for trying a buck on your own.”
I pointed my spoon at him. “That did not give you the right to steal my buck.”
“Yet you expect me to lay my prey at your paws, you wicked little bitch.”
“I share, so that means you share.”
“Yet here you are, stealing my supper,” he complained.
Desmond’s cell rang, and with a sigh, our Alpha dug into his pocket and pulled it out. “Desmond,” he answered, wrinkling his nose. “Ah. I forgot. We’re having dinner with a show.”
There was a long pause, and with each passing moment, Desmond’s smile widened until it was a full-fledged grin. “The show is watching Mrs. Sanders tear into Mr. Sanders over his theft of her deer, sir. It’s highly amusing. Sure, one moment.”
Turning on the speakerphone, Desmond set his cell in the middle of the table. “You’re on speaker, sir.”
“Good evening,” the Shadow Pope said. “Welcome home, Matthew, Sara.”
My mate sighed. “Thank you, sir.”
“Did you have a pleasant trip?”
I snickered, and at a glare from Desmond, I bit my lip and quieted. My mate sighed again. “Can’t say I remember much of it, sir.”
“Pity. And you, Mrs. Sanders?”
“Muzzles and collars are terrible things,” I grumbled.
“Could you two, perhaps, enlighten me on what happened?”
Desmond cleared his throat. “They had just cause for being frightened of Inquisitors, sir. Their driver was involved. When the driver turned coat, he shot Sanders with the same drug cocktail we found in the limo and in that witch’s bloodstream. From what they’ve told me, he went partially wild at that point. Sara went with her mate. She’s too new of an Omega to have any ability to control her mate, let alone an Alpha.”
“I see. And at the Mississippi?”
Smiling, Desmond replied, “A simple case of not knowing anyone. After their driver shot Sanders, of course they were spooked. I’ll take the blame for that. If I had been with the first contact team, they probably would have come in willingly enough—or at least with only a fairly minor fight. We made some unfortunate assumptions about his little white and red wolf. We finally caught him two hours or so away from one of his lodges. He was headed home to den with his mate.”
Richard waved his hand to catch Desmond’s attention. “Sir, it’s Richard. It’s pretty simple to explain. Once she was muzzled, his protective instincts went into overdrive. He had exactly one job, and that was to feed and care for his mate. She’s pregnant.”
I flushed. Making a happy noise, Sanders leaned towards me and nuzzled my neck. “Puppy,” he murmured, his scent rich with his pleasure.
“Well, that is not what I was expecting to hear. I suppose that changes my order of business. Congratulations to the both of you. I’ll plan accordingly.”
Before I could thank the Shadow Pope, my mate kissed me, distracting me from anything other than the feel of him against me. He ran his hand through my hair, curling a lock around his finger to give it a gentle tug.
“They’d thank you, but they’re busy flirting, sir. Manners, you two—not at the dinner table. In the mean time, they will both be staying at my house. That should make it a little easier on you. I’m also refraining from returning Seattle’s pack to him for a few more weeks. He’s lost a substantial amount of weight, most of it in muscle,” Desmond said, pausing long enough to crack his knuckles. “I’ll probably keep them here until we find out who wanted them and why.”
“I’ll be posting guards around your property, Desmond. I trust you won’t interfere with their jobs.”
“You know the rules, sir—keep them at a distance from the house.”
“Of course.”
“Then I don’t see a problem with having guards around. Tomorrow, I’ll be taking them to Sanders’s greenhouse so he can check over his plants and reassure himself the folks I hired actually know what they’re doing.”
“I’ll send a couple of Inquisitors to keep an eye on things.”
Desmond drummed his fingers against the table. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? We don’t know where the leak is. You could be setting us up.”
“Go armed. You’re in your prime, Desmond. I’m sure you can take care of any potential issues.”
Wendy plunked her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her palm. “This is a terrible idea, sir.”
The Shadow Pope sighed. “Why is it a terrible idea?”
“This is going to be good,” Desmond muttered, reaching for his glass of water.
With a faint smile, Wendy watched her mate, waiting for him to take a drink before she said, “Two Alphas with pregnant mates worried about unexpected guests? You’re asking for people to get killed.”
Desmond choked. “Wendy! I’m sorry, sir. She’s yanking my chain.”
All she did was wave her hand in my mate’s direction. Sighing, Sanders said, “I can’t believe I’ve been brought into the middle of this.”
With wide eyes, Richard leaned towards Wendy, sniffing at her. The color drained out of his face, and when he turned to Nicolina, his mouth hung open, but all he did was splutter.
“Oh, hell no,” Nicolina burst out, rising to her feet. Circling the table, she headed to her mother, sniffing like Richard had. She staggered back several feet, pointing at her mother. Like Richard, her face paled.
My mate grinned. “Ten bucks says she fai—”
Nicolina made a strangled noise and slumped towards the floor. Diving to catch her, Richard knocked his chair over, getting his arm under her head before she could crack her skull on the floor.
Pulling out his wallet, Desmond pulled out several twenties and handed them to Sanders. “Tip for calling it.”
“What’s going on over there?” the Shadow Pope demanded.
“Maybe you do need a receipt for her,” I said, rising to look over the table at Richard’s sprawled mate. “She really fainted. Richard looks like he swallowed a frog.”
Desmond’s eyes widened, blazing bright yellow. “You’re really pregnant, Wendy?”
“She’s pregnant,” my mate confirmed. “Early, so you have to get up close and personal to smell it on her. I thought you didn’t want me telling so you could torture Desmond.”
“That was before I knew we were going to your greenhouse tomorrow.”
Desmond rose, circled the table, and rested his chin on Wendy’s shoulder, drawing in several deep breaths. “You sneaky little bitch,” he said, his tone full of admiration. “You tricked me.”
“I thought with the problems finding Sanders, you needed something to focus on, dear, and you’ve been whining about the lack of puppies in the house for years,” she replied, leaning her head against her mate’s. “That was before we found out Sara was still alive and pregnant. Not only will you replace my SUV, you’ll buy me a death trap to match my daughter’s.”
“Richard,” Desmond growled. “You’ve corrupted my Wendy. You’ll suffer for this, son.”
The Shadow Pope made a thoughtful noise. “Why is your SUV being replaced?”
“I attacked it,” Sanders said. “It won.”
The silence on the other end of the line was broken by strangled laughter. “You did what?”
“We must have been close to where he was denning with Sara. He attacked the SUV while we were driving it,” Richard said, and with a grunt, he rose, cradling Nicolina in his arms. “I’ll explain in a moment, sir. I’m going to settle my mate on the couch. She had to give him a pretty good zap yesterday, so she’s worn out.”
“It was a two-for-one special,” Desmond explained. “After Richard wrecked my SUV hitting Sanders, they had a bit of a brawl, which resulted in my daughter jolting them both to put an end to it.”
“There’s never a dull moment with you folks, is there? Okay. So, both of America’s strongest Alphas have pregnant mates. Is your pack aware of this yet?”
“No,” Sanders said. “I don’t even know if they know I’m here yet.”
Smiling, Desmond watched Richard settle Nicolina in the other room. “They don’t. I was planning on making the calls tonight after dinner and bringing them all in.”
“In the interest of making certain there are two healthy puppies, I’m keeping you attached to Seattle, Charles. Richard, do you have any bitches planning on puppies this year?”
“Only human ones,” Richard replied, grabbing a blanket from the back of the couch and covering Nicolina with it. “I’ve heard some rumblings about puppies for next year, though.”
“They’re your responsibility, Richard,” the Shadow Pope decreed.
“Sanders is almost as good at this as I am, sir. With one of them being his own puppy? They’re not going to need me.”
“That may be so, but let’s not take a single chance. You’ll be compensated all of your expenses.”
“I hate flying commercial,” Richard grumbled.
“What happened to your plane?”
“My mate happened to my plane.” Richard returned to the table, picked up his chair, and slumped onto it.
Both Desmond and Wendy jerked. “What?” they chorused.
“Did you crash again, Richard?” the Shadow Pope demanded.
“There were storms when I last flew it. I got it down, but Nicolina was waiting at the airport and watched me bounce on the runway more than normal. I did a little damage to the plane. The landing was a bit rough. Nicolina fried every electronic in the plane, shrieking something about never letting me fly ever again while she did it.” Richard scowled. “I wisely kept my mouth shut, but it’ll be a while until it’s fixed.”
“You may as well just buy a new plane,” Desmond replied, shaking his head. “No injuries when you crashed?”
“I’m not answering that question.”
“How badly?” Wendy demanded.
There was a reluctant silence, and when Desmond growled, Richard winced. “I got off lighter than I otherwise should have,” he admitted. “A minor concussion. I didn’t have enough reserves to get to a different airport. I circled for thirty minutes hoping the weather would clear. I think it scared Nicolina more than it did me.”
I narrowed my eyes and stared at Richard. “Is Nicolina the source of her bad luck or are you?”
Laughing, my mate clapped my shoulder. “You know, you might be on to something. Nicolina never had so much trouble until she met you, Richard Murphy.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Early the next morning, not long after sunrise, we piled into Desmond’s car and ventured across Seattle to where Sanders worked.
My mate’s eagerness to see his greenhouse made me smile. He fidgeted the entire way there, making excited noises in his throat when we skirted the city and went through a wealthy neighborhood rivaling Desmond’s. The road curved through thick forests, which opened to a field dominated by not one, but five massive greenhouses, all of them white.
“It’s huge!” I pressed my nose to the window in my effort to get a better view. “How can one person manage all of this?”
“One person can’t,” Desmond replied, parking his car in front of the largest of the structures. “That’s not quite true; Sanders is efficient, so he can if he must, but he hires and trains hopeful landscapers to work on the four auxiliary greenhouses. The main one he directly supervises. It’s the off season for him, so most of the greenhouses contain his personal projects or plants for next spring.”
My mate opened his door, dug out his keys, and without waiting for anyone, he went inside.
“He’s also extremely focused and likely has forgotten we all exist,” my Alpha admitted, shaking his head. “He’ll come back to his senses, probably as soon as he checks over his plants and wants to show you his prizes. You won’t be his second love for long, trust me.”
“I think it’s nice,” I said, sliding out of the car. “He has something he enjoys. He’s passionate about it. That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”