“Exactly,” she said firmly, leaning her arms against the breakfast bar. “You’re mine.”
He laughed. “Well, yes. I am that.”
She skewered Mikkel with a look. “And you’re mine too.”
“I’m not going to argue,” Mikkel retorted, but she knew that wasn’t his way of accepting her claim either. He literally wasn’t going to argue with her. The jerk.
“You can’t deny it,” Rafe countered. “I know you have to feel it.”
“I’m human. We don’t react to mate bonds like Lykens do.”
She snorted. “I call bullshit. I’ve seen humans fall for Lykens before. They fall harder.”
He swallowed, and she watched his Adam’s apple bob—she knew he’d seen his mother react to the mate bond. “Look, I don’t want to talk about this.”
“There’s very little point in arguing, period,” Rafe rejoindered. “We have to move onto the fact that this is right. This is us. We’re a triad until we become more.” He shot her a look. “There’s another one, isn’t there?”
She licked her lips, wondering why he asked when he already knew, when they’d already shared this information with her newest mate. For Mikkel’s benefit, she asked herself?
“Yes. A third one,” she whispered, casting the other male a look.
Mikkel grimaced, lines of tension banding about his mouth. “Because it wasn’t getting crowded enough around here.”
Flinching, she whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said softly, his gaze trained on his coffee. “I’m just… This is a lot to take in.”
“For all of us,” Rafe inserted gently, as he reached for the coffee pot and poured himself and Thalia a large mug of the brew. “You want it black or with milk or creamer?”
She gnawed at her bottom lip. “I don’t know.”
“Shit, you were being serious about the ‘no coffee’ thing, weren’t you?” Mikkel demanded, his eyes wide with horror.
“Yeah, I was.” She cleared her throat. “I’ve only been allowed herbal teas for a long time now.”
“Well, that blows.”
“Being under house arrest blows harder, I can promise you,” she said wryly, but there was no heat to her words. Not that that stopped his cheeks from blooming with heat in response.
She hid her smile—he was angry on her behalf. Didn’t that warm her up inside and out?
“I can imagine.” His nostrils flared even as he remarked, “I’d have it with milk. And sugar. Lots of sugar. You like things sweet. I’ve watched you eat.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I might have had a sweet tooth last night. We were on the plane! You’re supposed to eat junk.”
“Nah, you’re one of those women who could live off junk food. I can tell.” He tapped his nose. “I’ve got a lot of sisters.”
She heaved out a breath. “I don’t know if I am or not.”
He scowled. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’ve never been allowed to really try any junk food. Yesterday was probably the fourth time I’d had a burger and fries.”
“In your life?” Mikkel exploded.
Rafe gaped at her. “Are you being serious?”
“Sadly,” she said wryly, nose crinkling. Even then, those burgers had been purloined from sneak visits to McDonalds. “My food was controlled too. Very little sugar. All nutritious stuff.”
“Boring stuff,” Mikkel countered immediately.
She snorted. “You don’t look like that,” she groused, wafting a hand at his very sleek, very strong, and very muscular self, “by living off crap.” And boy, if he was an advert for clean living, she didn’t mind being signed up to it for life.
God, he was a dreamboat. With hair as light as hers, but with a silvery fleck to it, it was in stark contrast to his slightly tanned skin—considering she knew he’d come off a deployment recently, she knew that color wasn’t earned at the side of a pool but by work in the sandbox.
His eyes were a mossy green that had bronze flecks around the pupil when he was agitated—like he was now, but they were also gray, flinty. They were as volatile as the weather, and they were just as beautiful. His nose was sleek but sharp-tipped, and his brow was set off with a widow’s peak. He had the face of a model, but his body was pure warrior.
Yum.
“No. But a little bit of what you fancy does you good,” he retorted, breaking into her drooling—and it wasn’t over hamburgers, but him. “Jesus, I need pizza at least once a week. We need to rectify this situation. Stat.”
“I agree.”
Thalia huffed at Rafe’s retort. “Aren’t you a cardiologist?”
“Exactly,” Mikkel grumbled. “Now it’s under a doctor’s orders.”
That had her laughing. “Doctors’ orders to do bad things to my heart, huh?”
“Yep,” Rafe murmured, shooting her a grin so wicked her toes curled.
“Okay, so the first item on today’s agenda is to stuff you with bad food. After that, what’s the game plan?” Mikkel asked, fixing another mug of black tar for himself.
She licked her lips, finding it strange and soothing that they wanted her input. Although, she supposed it was only normal. After all, the males always deferred to their mates. Even if, in pack hierarchy, the males were the dominant of the species.
Was that because of her rank?
She didn’t want that, Thalia knew. She wanted them to make decisions as a unit. This wasn’t a dictatorship, but a family.
“We need to meet Rafe’s parents, his siblings if they can make time to visit. Then, we need to travel to Florida to catch up with my grandparents.”
Mikkel blinked. “Okay. We’re doing all that today?”
Rafe shook his head. “No. We’re going to have to throw in some kind of meeting with the Alpha too, don’t forget. He won’t be happy about last night.”
“You can’t blame him. The Triskele shows up, kicks Beta ass, and makes an example for the entire nation on his watch? I’d be pissed too. Well,” Mikkel tacked on, “pissed and worried.”
“Worried? Why?” Thalia asked, leaping up onto one of the high stools that lined the counter. As the cold chill of the seat hit the bare backs of her thighs, she fidgeted in discomfort. Especially as that chill contrasted greatly to the inferno going on between her legs.
“Well, my knowledge of pack politics is limited but even I know last night will put him in the perfect spot for being challenged.”
“Because he didn’t control the situation and outside help had to come in?” she asked, seeking clarification. While she’d done a lot of reading, a lot, on the internal politics of local, state, and national packs, that was nothing in comparison to hands-on experience.
She’d have to learn the minutiae quickly. Knowing theory was all well and good, but in the real world, it wasn’t enough.
Her fathers were fools for keeping her in the dark. She’d tried to rectify their mistakes by reading up on as much as she could, but shadowing them would have been priceless experience.
“Yeah. It’s not good. Just because he’s Alpha, doesn’t mean there aren’t others Alphas in the pack who are following his leadership at the moment,” Rafe told her, and for a second, she could only focus on those chestnut eyes of his.
Caelus, they made her melt.
“That’s rare, though, isn’t it?” she asked, embarrassed by the squeak in her voice.
Rafe shrugged. “Not necessarily.”
Mikkel nodded. “In my stepdad’s pack, there are about four Alphas.”
“Four?” Her eyes widened, and she realized just how out of the loop she was when it came down to local pack hierarchy. Even as that thought crossed her mind, she wondered if her fathers were better informed or, from their lofty towers, were they even more out of the loop? “Why aren’t they always challenging each other?”
“It’s actually good for the pack on the whole if there’s more than one Alpha,” Rafe explained. “It makes sure they’re n
ot complacent and don’t become complete bastards.”
“What went wrong here, then?” she groused.
“The issue in question was about Gammas. Nobody cares about them.” His tone was so bland, so emotionless that it hurt her. Deep inside. His dismissal was what everyone else in the pack did, and she needed to change that. Gods, it was more than just a need. It was a compulsion.
She sucked in a sharp breath. “Well, I care. And that means everybody has to start caring now.”
Thalia didn’t give a damn if that made her sound like a brat. The situation with the Gammas was untenable. And if it took one poor little rich girl to sort it out, then that’s what it would take.
She clenched her teeth as her hands formed fists, and she banged one carefully against the counter as she murmured, “So, the Summerford Pack Alpha is about to be challenged. Good. Let’s keep him on his toes.”
Mikkel nodded, but Rafe was the one who replied, “He probably won’t survive the challenge. He’s old. The other Alphas are a lot younger.” He grimaced. “The pack is probably in for a few years of infighting now.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“He means that one will challenge the current Alpha, then, after, when he’s no longer an issue, they’ll fight among themselves until the strongest comes forth.”
Mikkel’s explanation had her wincing—how did a human, who claimed to know very little about pack life, know more than she did? “Did I not do right?” she asked, hesitantly. “I-I had to do something with Torres.”
“Of course you did. Just because the pack is unsettled, doesn’t mean that isn’t exactly what it needs. Summerford has needed new blood for a long while. The Alphas will just have to argue among themselves until they figure out who’s strongest. When that happens, it will be for the good of the pack. Nobody needs weak leadership,” Rafe told her, rounding the counter with her coffee mug in his hand. He placed it in front of her then curled an arm about her shoulder. “I’ve laced it with Stevia, because hopefully that won’t make your body go crazy. If you’re not used to sugar, then we don’t want you to get a high. There’s a lot of milk in there, but we can see how you find it.”
When he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, she sucked in a shuddery breath as she turned her face into his throat. He was gorgeous, her man. Not like the other males she knew. He was smaller, sleeker. Just like his Wolf. But she knew he worked out because his body in human form was like something from GQ—and she knew what that was. Only the Supra Web had been rationed, not the Internet the humans used.
Rafe was as tall as Mikkel, but that was short for a Lyken. Six foot was small in her world, with the average Beta and Alpha coming in at six-five. And, considering her own ranking, that was who the Gods should have matched her with.
Not that she was complaining.
Not one bit.
She nipped at his pec, loving the firm resilience of his muscles. He laughed, kissed her crown again. “You keep doing that.”
“I like it. You taste good.”
“She’s a mauler,” Rafe murmured, his words both a joke and a warning.
“I figured as much when I saw the bites on you on the plane.” Mikkel cocked a brow at them both, but Thalia refused to blush.
As she tried to find words that would change the subject, the door bell sounded. Relief blossomed through her because whatever he thought, she wasn’t ready to discuss this. Sex. With him.
Rafe stiffened, then released a breath. She wasn’t sure how she knew, wasn’t sure if their connection would let him whisper things to her without his intention, but she was wholly aware of the path his mind had taken him down…
“He’s dead, sweetheart. Gone. Torres can’t hurt you anymore.” She reached for his hand, squeezed it. “Nobody can hurt you anymore.”
He swallowed, his eyes wide and his pupils like pin-pricks—how long had he been living under threat for him to respond to the door buzzer like that? The notion destroyed her and made her want to execute Jason Torres again—except, this time, without waiting for him to double cross her.
“I shouldn’t need you to protect me,” he whispered, and the shame in his voice, in the tension in his features, had her mood spiking from relative calm to instant fury.
“I’m not just anyone. I’m yours. I’m all yours. We protect each other, don’t we?”
He licked his lips, and she could see how hard it was, how dry his mouth had become. He stank of fear, and she wasn’t used to that—his scent was like citrus to her, blended with the flame of sun-drenched earth of an orange grove, and her She-Wolf loved it. Loved the bright, fresh scent that permeated her senses and lightened the air around her.
Her beast growled, hating that her mate scented of distress, and wanting to find the source to eliminate it. Thalia barely managed to dampen down the creature’s rage, and because the human felt it too, it was twice as hard.
“I-I know you’re right.”
“You healed me yesterday, didn’t you? You saved me,” she whispered insistently, urging him, needing him to realize how true her words were.
He gulped. “Yes. I did.”
They totally needed to have a conversation about that, she knew. When they had a moment to catch their breaths, they needed to confer on what his new ability meant for them in the long run.
“Well then… We’re vital to each other. Aren’t we?” His nod was hesitant, and she squeezed his fingers once more. “Go and get the door, sweetheart. We’ll face whoever is there. Together. Won’t we, Mikkel?”
Mikkel’s eyes were wide as he studied the tableau before him, but he coughed and got out, “Yes. We will. We’re a unit.”
Rafe’s head swung to the side so he could look at him. Whatever he saw on the other male’s face, Thalia wasn’t privy to. But, it seemed to calm Rafe for her mate took a shaky inhalation and stepped away from her. He hesitated again. “I don’t even know why I’m nervous. It’s a gated community, it’s not like anyone can get in unless they have permission.”
Thalia knew the answer to that—reaction had set in. Raphael Santiago, for the first time in his life, was safe. He’d never been that before, and his Wolf, as well as the human, was finding that realization hard to come to terms with.
He didn’t wait for either of them to reply, and swiftly after he’d spoken, she heard his footsteps as he headed for the front door, the padding of his bare feet against the tile as he moved away.
When he was out of the room, she told Mikkel, “Thank you for that.”
He blinked. “You don’t have to thank me. I might not be…” He licked his lips, took a sip of coffee. “I’m not happy about this situation, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know it’s not true.”
“Why fight it then?” she wondered out loud. “Why fight what you know to be true?”
“Because this wasn’t supposed to be my life,” he said on a low growl.
“And what was it supposed to be?” she asked, her tone calm in the face of his tension.
Then, like he realized he wasn’t being fair in blasting her with his sudden temper, he blew out a sharp breath. “I should be in Afghanistan or Libya or wherever. I shouldn’t be here. Babysitting.” He imbued the word with a loathing she shared—she’d had enough of being minded. That was the last thing she needed.
“Babysitting?” Her brows rose. “I thought we’d established I don’t need a babysitter. And, anyway, if you’re minding anyone’s child, it’s the North American Pack… You can’t have a problem with that, surely?”
His teeth gritted. “I’m not a Lyken.”
“A fact I’m fully aware of,” she said calmly, picking up her own cup and taking a careful sip of the drink Rafe had doctored for her. She winced at its sweetness which had a chemical tone to it that set her teeth on edge.
Seeing it, Mikkel snorted. “He’d have been better off giving you less sugar than that Stevia shit.” Before she could say another word, Mikkel grabbed another mug, dosed it with a small teaspoon of
sugar, then poured milk and coffee into it. After he stirred it, he passed it over to her. “Try that.”
Her nose wrinkled with distaste but as he’d made the effort, she took a sip. Her eyes widened. “That’s much better.”
He laughed a little. “Glad to hear it.”
She took a deeper sip and sighed with pleasure as different notes fluttered over her tongue, sharp and acrid, sweet and creamy. “It’s delicious.”
His lips twitched. “We’ll corrupt you yet.”
“I have no doubt that’s the truth,” she retorted wryly, then placing her mug on the surface, asked, “Are you ashamed he’s Gamma?”
That had him rearing back. “No. Why would I care? I’m not Lyken, Thalia. Rafe is just another guy to me.”
“But he was scared then. Surely even you could see that.” Mikkel’s nod was hesitant. “You don’t take me as a man who’s scared of much.”
He sighed and ran a hand through his close-shorn hair. There wasn’t much to riffle through, so the act seemed more like he was scratching his scalp. “No. I’m not. But then, I’ve been in some tough situations. As I’m sure Rafe has. He’s a cardiologist, after all. Is there are a harder medicine to be involved in?”
She shrugged. “I’d guess not. Maybe things to do with the brain?”
Mikkel jerked his chin up in agreement. “Anyway, we all have our strengths. And our weaknesses. And the reason I fought in the first place was to protect those weaker than me. Man, woman, or child.”
“As long as you keep on thinking that way,” she murmured, her tone part warning. “I won’t have you making him feel bad for what he is. He’s only coming into his powers.” Though the thought wasn’t founded on much, she knew it to be the truth—it was why he smelled of fire, Thalia was coming to realize.
A burning heat that seemed to swell in surges from his pores.
He scowled a second at her warning, then took another sip of his coffee. “Doesn’t it bother you? Your She-Wolf? I thought they wanted strength. I know my sisters do.”
“Does what bother me? That he gets scared?”
Triskele (The TriAlpha Chronicles Book 2) Page 5