by Layla Silver
Finding the seam, I slid it into place. Checking the tension on the thread, I gently pressed my foot down on the pedal, expertly sending the machine and fabric into motion. I could still clearly remember my mother explaining to me why shifters didn’t need weddings.
“When you find your mate, Celeste, you’ll know. He’ll know, too. When you’re together, the rest of the pack will smell you on one another.”
“Like you and daddy smell the same but different?” I’d asked.
“Yes, like daddy and me,” she’d agreed. “We each have our own smell, but because we’re mates, we smell like each other, too. Shifters don’t need big parties or expensive rings the way that humans do. We know our mates in our bodies and our souls.”
It had all sounded so romantic. It wasn’t until much, much later that I’d learned the ugly truth. I’d never gotten to confront her about it, though. She and my father died in a car crash before I found the words to confess my secret romance and heartbreak. In one summer, I’d lost everything, and I promised myself I would never believe in pretty lies ever again.
“I think I got the final guest list nailed down,” Katie said, drawing my attention back to the moment. She flopped onto the cushy loveseat situated between the fitting room section of the studio and my sewing area. Tucking her ankles beneath her so she could comfortably sit cross-legged, she tugged her fine, jet-black hair out of the bun we’d put it in to keep it out of the way for the fitting and ran her fingers through it. “That was a pain. I had no idea we had so many freaking cousins between the two of us.”
I snorted and angled the fabric around the next dart. “You have six aunts,” I reminded her. “All of them have kids. Of course, you have a million cousins.”
“Not a million,” she huffed. “But ... a lot. Who knew weddings would be so much work?” Satisfied with her hair, she grabbed the messenger bag she’d left on the loveseat and started digging through it. “Or setting up house? Seriously, I thought we’d be done with that at least by now.”
“It can’t be that hard,” I protested, feeding another section of fabric under the needle. “You’ve both got apartments. It’s not like you have to go toaster shopping or something.”
“No, it’s worse,” she said, dramatically. “We have to inventory and compare everything—is my toaster better, or is his? Will it fit in the new place? Does it clash with the decor? What are we even doing about decor? It’s crazy.”
“Are you sure he’s worth it?” I teased, glancing at her over the sewing machine. “You can always move in here with me if you’re tired of living by yourself.”
“No way!” She feigned indignation. “I put a lot of work into catching Leo. I’m not turning him loose now!”
“Whatever.” I made a face at her and pulled the fabric from the machine. Snipping the loose ends of the thread, I started pulling pins from the finished area and dropping them in my collection jar.
“I’m serious, Celly,” Katie said, dropping the bag on the floor beside her and sitting forward. “We’re not as young as we used to be. We’re thirty-three, already!” She grabbed a throw pillow and plopped it in her lap, plucking fretfully at it as her expression scrunched. “I want pups, and the clock is ticking. If I don’t get married and have some soon, I may not get any.”
“You may not get any marrying Leo,” I couldn’t help but point out. No couple was guaranteed kids, after all, and although humans and shifters were technically compatible, there was a higher likelihood of problems conceiving between them than between straight human or straight shifter couples. I was careful to keep my tone gentle; while it had to be said, I didn’t want to hurt her. We don’t control who we fall in love with, and it wasn’t her fault her mate was born human.
“Well, I certainly won’t get any if I don’t try,” she retorted, undaunted. Then she cocked her head, her eyes narrowing in my direction. “When are you going to find a mate?”
“I’m not.” The words came out flat, and I tugged the next pin out of the fabric more roughly than necessary.
“But you’re great with pups,” she cajoled. “You babysit all the time, and everyone loves you.”
“I don’t have time for a mate,” I responded flippantly, trying to play it off.
Katie had been in South America with a study abroad program the summer my life had fallen apart. I hadn’t dared to write her about my secret romance lest anyone else found out, and by the time she’d come back, I’d resolved to simply put the entire thing behind me.
The man who should have been my mate had put me behind him easily enough.
“You don’t even want to consider it?” she asked, genuinely curious. “It wouldn’t kill you to try dating at least a little.”
There wasn’t much point in that, given that I already knew who my mate was, but I couldn’t tell her that. Besides, in theory, her point would still be valid. Shifters who lost their mates sometimes did find someone else. Pick a decent partner and make a life together work. But it would always be hollow. Being alone was better.
“You don’t need a mate to have family,” I reminded her, checking the seam I was working on to make sure I hadn’t missed any pins.
“That’s your mother talking.” She scowled at me.
“She wasn’t wrong,” I pointed out, pretending not to notice. “The pack is our family. We take care of each other.”
“You mean you take care of everyone,” Katie said, shaking her head. She started ticking things off on her fingers. “You watch pups when parents are busy; you sit with Mrs. Markus when her own kids are too busy to visit; you do all the record-keeping and planning for pack events. Seriously, you’re like the super-glue that keeps everything together.”
A fat lot of good it’s doing, I thought, sticking another section of fabric under the needle and stepping on the foot peddle to start the machine.
Five years without a proper Alpha had taken a toll, and even I was struggling to keep the pack from splintering under the strain these days.
More lessons of my mother’s automatically tumbled out of my mouth. “We all have a responsibility to the pack. We have to serve however we can.” The old lessons made my chest ache, but they’d been the guiding principles of my life, and I couldn’t help repeating them now. “Without a strong, healthy pack, we become prey to be picked off. I’m just doing my part.”
“You could still do your part while having a pup,” Katie insisted. Her expression went thoughtful. “You wouldn’t even need a man if you really don’t want one. I mean sperm donors are a thing, right? You could just borrow some DNA, have a pup, and start a family of your own.” Her voice softened. “You know I’m proud of you, Celly,” she said, motioning around us. “You’ve got your own house, your own business; you do the work of six pack members—you’re amazing. But you deserve to be happy, and you’re not. Not really, and we both know it.”
I sighed and lifted my foot from the peddle, bringing the machine to a stop. I lifted my gaze to hers over the machine. “I’m happy enough,” I told her firmly. “I’ve got nothing against having kids however you want to get them, but it’s just … not for me. I have my home, and I have my work, and I have the pack.” I summoned a smile. “And I have you. And you and Leo are probably going to have a whole pile of pups, and then I’ll have more than enough to keep me busy.”
Katie made a face at me, but she let the matter drop. Lifting up the bridal magazine she’d fished from her bag, she intentionally turned the conversation to wedding favors and tabletop decorations.
I nodded along and fed another section of fabric through the machine, grateful for the change of subject. Katie meant well, but I didn’t need a mate or a pup. I had the pack, and that was enough.
Chapter 3 – Nathan
“What about Nick?” Daniel asked, his eyes skimming over the page of the notebook in his lap. “We agreed last meeting that someone would speak to him about his trouble at work.”
“I’ve met with him twice.” I didn’t move from my
spot leaning against the wall, arms crossed over my chest. I was still in my suit from work—the dove gray one that Micah joked gave me the ‘tall, dark, and handsome vibe’—but I’d tugged my tie off the minute I walked in the door. It hung over the back of the chair behind my desk, and I made a mental note to take it upstairs when this interminable meeting finally ended. “I’ve looked into the situation and recommended he request a transfer. The bank has been moving managers around, and the new head of his branch is an asshole.”
Phillip looked pleasantly surprised. “That’s fast work, Nathan.”
“I take care of my pack,” I said, pointedly. To the extent you codgers let me, anyway.
Before any of them could find a diplomatic answer, the doorbell rang. I stifled a sigh, undecided whether I welcomed the break or was irritated by it. The sooner we got through the agenda, the sooner I could kick the Elders out of my house.
“Excuse me.” Pushing off the wall, I pivoted on my heel and walked out into the hall. Sunshine poured through the front door’s leaded glass panes, illuminating a familiar blue blob waiting on the other side. Opening the door, I greeted the postman cheerfully. “Let me guess. Certified mail?”
He chuckled and wiggled the clipboard playfully. “As usual, Mr. Sloan.”
“You guys must be making a mint.” Taking the clipboard, I scrawled my name on the page and handed it back. He fished the letter from his bag, and I accepted it. I touched it to my forehead in a salute. “Thanks.”
He returned the gesture, tapping two fingers to his temple, and then jogged off the porch back to his rounds. Shutting the door, I tried to suppress the wave of loathing that came over me as I registered Kurt’s smell on the envelope. I growled under my breath as I stalked back into the office.
“Nathan?” Gideon asked, standing up from his preferred chair. “Everything all right?”
“Mail,” I spat, tearing the envelope open. “From Kurt.”
I ripped the paper out and unfolded it, skimming the words. “About damn time.”
“What? What is it?” Phillip asked, worry suffusing the question.
“He’s going to man up and fight me for the pack like a proper Alpha.” I thrust the letter at Gideon and then strode to my desk. I dropped into the chair behind it and kicked a foot up onto the desktop, edgy energy crackling through me as I watched the Elders pass the letter around.
“Six months,” Daniel said, faintly, passing the letter to Phillip. “If you’re not officially pronounced Alpha in six months, he’ll issue a formal challenge for rights to the pack.”
“Let him,” I bit out, irritated by the way the man had gone pale. “I can take him—as a man or a wolf. I’ll break him in half for threatening my pack, and this entire mess can be over! Hell, it’d be a favor to his pack if I killed the bastard.”
“Absolutely not,” Phillip said, tossing the letter onto the low table in front of the sofa.
“Why the hell not?” I demanded, sitting up and slamming my hand on the desk with a crack. “I can take him—you know I can. The pack needs stability, and fighting Kurt one-on-one will get it. It’ll keep anyone else from getting ideas about threatening us, too.”
“No,” Daniel hissed, his eyes narrowing in a rare open display of concentrated frustration. “The only thing that will bring this pack stability is you complying with your father’s will.”
“You’ve had a few days to think on it,” Phillip coaxed. “Surely you can see—”
“It’s not going to work,” I interrupted, sharply enunciating every word. “I’m not an idiot. I know who you want as the surrogate. She isn’t going to volunteer, and I refuse to see her pressured into it ‘for the good of the pack’. We’re not that kind of pack.”
I’d met a few creepy lecher Alphas and Elders in my life; just the memory made my skin crawl.
“Nathan,” Phillip started.
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” I cut him off, harshly gesturing in the direction of the letter. “Kurt is willing to fight me. I’ll kick his ass and be done with it.”
“That is not your decision,” Daniel said flatly. “Until you are officially instated as Alpha, you require our blessing for such a confrontation, and we will not give it.”
“We can’t,” Phillip agreed, turning reproachful eyes on me. “Even if we did, it wouldn’t resolve the larger problem. You cannot be Alpha without a family, Nathan, and until you are, threats like these will keep coming. If not from Kurt, then from someone else.” He pursed his lips. “Frankly, even a mate of your mother’s caliber would be better for the pack than continuing like this.”
Fury erupted, scalding through my veins, and I jerked my feet off the desk. “Get out of my house. All of you.”
“Nathan,” Daniel protested.
Gideon stepped between us, placing a quelling hand on the other Elder’s chest. “It’s enough, Dan,” he said quietly. “Leave it. We’ve got another meeting Thursday. We can take it up then.”
Fuming wordlessly, Daniel and Phillip shot me murderous looks as they grabbed their coats and stormed out. Gideon collected his coat as well but paused at the office door. He looked exhausted, and I felt a pang of guilt at the toll this mess was taking on him.
“I'm sorry I can’t fix this for you, Nathan. You know if there was anything I could do, I would.”
“I know.” The words came out more gruffly than I’d intended, and I tried for something resembling a smile. “Go on,” I told him, waving at the door. “Get out of here. Give Mary my love.”
“You should come for dinner soon,” he said, pulling his jacket on. “She’d love to feed you.” Micah’s mother was the best cook in the pack.
“I might.”
Gideon nodded, gave me a small, tired smile of his own, and left.
When I heard the front door close behind him, I leaned over, both my hands flat on the desktop. All the anger seemed to bleed out through my feet, leaving me drained. Dull, weary resentment sat heavy in my bones, and I slowly became aware of the low throb in my head that promised a pounding headache and the empty feeling in my stomach.
Heaving a sigh, I left the office. Down the hall, I stepped into the kitchen and pulled the bottle Tylenol off the counter. I didn’t even bother to put it away these days. Popping two, I swallowed them dry and crossed to the fridge. I pulled it open, scanned its barren shelves, and promptly shut it again.
Of course, there wasn’t any food. I was supposed to shop on Sunday, but coming home to a porch full of Elders spouting wild ideas had completely derailed the day. I’d spent yesterday walking a client through a small crisis, and I’d been working since 5:30 this morning with nothing more than quick bathroom breaks.
For a brief moment, I toyed with the idea of just downing the untouched case of beer—the only thing remaining in my otherwise empty fridge—and calling it dinner. It was tempting. Too tempting.
You’re not that kind of Alpha.
Snarling with frustration with myself and the world, I grabbed my keys and headed for the garage.
***
They say you shouldn’t shop when you’re hungry. Something about hunger making for impulsive shopping decisions. It was advice I’d never heeded—and not just because my schedule didn’t always allow for nice, scheduled, well-fed grocery shopping trips.
In my experience, shopping while hungry was a great way to speed up the process. When you’re hungry, you don’t stand around in front of the meat case debating whether you should get the pork chops or the ground beef. You just buy them both, which means you go home with more groceries. The more groceries I bought per run, the longer I could put off the next shopping trip. That’s what I told myself, at any rate. Anything to make the tedium and inconvenience more bearable.
I was hunting for the protein bars and muttering curses under my breath at whoever kept moving things around in this damn store when I stopped dead in my tracks. The entire world seemed to narrow to a single figure standing at the end cap two aisles over. Celeste.
&nb
sp; She was reading the back of a box, her usually sweet face scrunched in a frown. Her dress was too perfect to be anything but one of her own creations, some kind of soft red fabric in a loose, wrapped cut with split sleeves. Like everything she made, it was stunningly well done. It somehow managed to be practical and modest while doing absolutely nothing to hide the delicate lines of her slender form.
I’d teased her once about being a fairy child hidden among the rest of us boring humans. Playfully accused her of bewitching me with her people’s magic. She’d laughed and insisted I was ridiculous, but looking at her now, I felt just as caught in her web of enchantment as I had all those years ago.
Tucking a strand of honey-blonde hair behind her ear, she put the box back on the shelf and looked up—directly at me. She froze, and her trapped, panicked expression made me sick.
Part of me wanted to turn away, to give her an out. But pack mores required that I speak to her, and now that she’d seen me, there was no way to bow out without making things worse.
You’re the Alpha, I reminded myself sternly. Act like it.
Taking a deep breath, I pasted a pleasant, businesslike expression on my face and closed the distance between us. “Celeste.” She’d let me call her Celly once. Back then, catching sight of me had made her cobalt eyes light up instead of bringing a hunted look to her face. “How have you been?”
“Good.” She gripped her basket tightly. “Thank you.”
“How’s the business? Katie mentioned you had a ton of customers over the holidays—custom orders, or something?”
“Yes.” She licked her full pink lips, and her eyes darted away from mine as if tracking escape routes. “There’s always a rush, around Christmas. It’s evened out now, the pacing. But, um, it’s good.”
Watching her fidget was excruciating. Being this close and unable to touch her was worse.
“You’re shopping?” she asked, fumbling for something that would satisfy the social rules that bound us. Her parents had been just as strict on pack etiquette as my father.