The Alpha's Mate

by Jacqueline Rhoades

  “No ma’am. That’s not the way of it at all.” Max looked like she wanted to cry. “Marshall, he wasn’t looking for a mate. It was the rest of us. We…”

  We? “Max, does everyone else know who, what I am?”

  “Yes ma’am,” Max admitted and at least she had the decency to look chagrinned. “We all knew from the get go, but we couldn’t say anything. You weren’t supposed to know anything about us being wolvers until Marshall gave the okay. But all hell broke loose and…” She shrugged. “I’m real sorry, but it has to be that way. You were an outsider and…”

  “And it’s okay to make a fool of an outsider.” She heard a car speeding into the yard. It had to be Charles. She pointed her finger at Max. “We’re not finished.”

  But she was. Elizabeth would make sure Charles healed his brother and then she was finished with them all.

  Chapter 27

  A crowd had gathered around the sporty silver car, but they parted, with glaring looks, when Elizabeth walked through. The bodies closed in behind her when she reached the car.

  Charles, who was dressed much as he’d been the other night in sharply creased khakis and a dark green polo shirt, was reaching for something across the driver’s seat. He came out with the white cowboy hat he’d also worn before, held it by the crown to his chest and bowed theatrically to Elizabeth.

  “My shining armor was at the dry cleaners,” he said as he settled the hat on his head, smiling. “My great white hat will have to do.” He looked around at the crowd. “For some reason, they always expect the black one.”

  “The white hat is charming,” she smiled, “Silver suits are so awkward.” After what she’d just heard, she should be angry, but Max was right. He was a product of his genes as much as she was of hers. And sexy tingle aside, she couldn’t help but like him. “Thank you for coming, Charles.”

  He looked her up and down. She was still in the clothes he’d seen her in the day before only now they were stained with mud and blood. Marshall’s blood.

  “You’re looking a little worse for wear there, my dear, and since you haven’t thrown yourself into my arms and begged me to take you away from this hillbilly heaven, I’m assuming I misinterpreted your call. Shall we walk while we talk?” He offered her his arm with another slight bow.

  She wouldn’t refuse to touch him in front of these people. In spite of, or maybe because of his over the top display of manners, she knew he felt awkward here. By the looks on the faces surrounding them, this had to be hard. For him, she’d play the lady accepting a gentleman’s arm. She could handle the tingle until they were away from the crowd. It was a small sacrifice for a friend.

  Her eyes widened when her hand touched his bare arm. She felt nothing but bare arm. Nothing.

  His eyes widened, too, mimicking hers. He laughed and patted the fingers holding his arm in an iron grip. “Proof, I’m afraid, that all good things must come to an end. Now, tell me why I’m here.”

  He was making this so easy for her and she loved him for it. She turned to face him, looking up into those beautiful green eyes. How could she have suspected, even for a minute, that he was a part of what had happened here. “It’s Marshall. He’s dying, Charles. He needs a healer.”

  Charles’ face paled. “Have you called Mikey? He’s the one you need.”

  “He’s in Europe at some conference. Roman tried to contact him. I don’t know if he was successful. It doesn’t matter now. You’re here.” He couldn’t refuse, could he?

  He turned away from her. “I’m not your man. I can’t do this.” He sounded ashamed.

  “But Maggie said all the Goodman’s had the gift.”

  “The gift.” He laughed bitterly. “Have you noticed how they use gift and talent interchangeably? It’s not true. Just because you have the gift, doesn’t mean you have the talent. I don’t have the talent. I can’t do it.”

  “You have to try, Charles. That’s all I’m asking. Try.”

  Charles didn’t speak, wouldn’t look at her. Didn’t he understand? Marshall was running out of time.

  “Just a little,” she begged. “Just a little. Enough to keep him going until Michael gets here.”

  He whirled on her, face stricken with grief. “If I call the light, I’ll kill him.” His shoulders slumped and he reminded Elizabeth of a defeated little boy.

  “What do you mean?” she said gently. She held his cheek in her hand. He shook his head as if telling her would be a waste of time. She waited, keeping her hand on his face.

  “Mikey was the first of us to heal something. We were out playing and one of us hit a bird with a slingshot. Its wing was broken. Mikey was all upset. He never could see an animal hurt. Anyway, he picked it up and this glow came out of his hands and that bird just flew away. We knew what it was. We’d seen the Alpha do it. We all ran home to tell him. First he laced into Mikey for blubbering over the bird and then he tells me if Mikey can do it so can I. I’m the oldest, right?

  “Next day he takes me out hunting. First rabbit he hits doesn’t die. Now usually, you break its neck, end it quick. He says, ‘Heal it.’ I didn’t know how. I tried, but nothing happened. We kept going out. He kept wounding animals. ‘Come on, boy. You’re a Goodman. You can do it.’

  Charles’ voice deepened. Elizabeth could hear his father in it. “It was too soon,” she said softly, “You weren’t ready.”

  “No,” he said, “I just wasn’t good at it. It got so I hated going hunting. I still do. But my father wouldn’t give up. I was a Goodman and by golly, that meant I had the gift and I needed to learn how to use it. Finally, he shot another rabbit. ‘Heal it,’ he says just like always. This time, that golden glow comes out of my hand. I could see where it was injured and what had to be done. ‘That’s right, boy. I told you you could do it.’

  Charles looked at her sadly. “That rabbit died.” He looked down at his open hand. “I broke its neck. And that’s what happened every other time after that. My father eventually gave up.”

  “As you wanted him to,” she said.

  “Hell yeah I wanted him to. It was torture. I hated it. I couldn’t do it.”

  Elizabeth almost laughed, but the subject wasn’t laughable. “Charles Goodman, I know you so well. You’re me. And my mother and your father were two peas in a pod. Fortunately for me, killing small animals wasn’t ever in vogue among the country club set. But there was Miss Lydia’s School for Little Ladies and Gentlemen; classes in deportment, etiquette, and ballroom dancing. I was nine and I hated it. I wasn’t an uncoordinated child. I could walk with a book balanced on my head. I could waltz without trampling some little boy’s toes. But in Miss Lydia’s School for Little Ladies and Gentlemen, I was a klutz. I was the one who always spilled my juice, always tried to eat my desert with my fish fork, and always stomped on my partner’s toes until they howled. My mother finally, and in great shame, took me out. I didn’t learn much about deportment, but I did learn how to wage war.”

  Charles was looking at her as if she had two heads.

  “Don’t you see? I couldn’t battle my mother head to head. I’d lose. She was bigger and better at it. So I learned to wage a war of wills. Small victories, I called them. You waged bigger battles than little Elizabeth could ever imagine. I never had the courage to totally rebel the way you did. You were much stronger than I ever was. When he saw the golden light, that angry little boy silently said to his father, ‘I’ll fix you’ and he did. The rabbit died.”

  “No,” he said, but his eyes looked hopeful. He looked off into the distance, weighing what she’d said and then he frowned. “There are things that can’t be fixed, you know. Strokes, cancers, certain injuries…”

  Doctor Palmer came running up, breathing heavily. “You said you’d be in the barn,” he panted.

  “What?” Elizabeth asked in a whisper. She reached for Charles’ hand and felt it grasp hers tightly.

  “He’s having trouble breathing. You’d better come.”

  Elizabeth ran pulling
Charles behind her.

  Two men stood at the door and she thought they were going to bar her way. Henry stepped forward, looking no better than he had before.

  “Let her through,” he said, “The Alpha wants her.” He took her free hand and led her up the stairs.

  Elizabeth held on to both men. Marshall was awake? This was a good thing wasn’t it? Her heart was beating wildly in her chest. As soon as Henry opened the door, she knew he had lied.

  Marshall lay where she’d left him, but his face was no longer serene. His chest was heaving. His mouth was open and he was gasping for air. His lips were blue around the edges and his eyes were open, but Marshall wasn’t seeing anything. He was struggling to stay alive.

  She looked around the room at the staring faces. “Henry, Maggie, get them out. Get them all out.” She spoke with authority and was surprised at how controlled she sounded.

  Maggie was the first to obey. “Come on boys and girls. You heard the lady.”

  A few of the men protested, but Henry was hearing none of it. “The Alpha said I was to listen to her. I’m his second and until he’s… We owe him. Come on.” He looked questioningly at Charles.

  “He stays,” she said and Henry frowned but didn’t protest.

  As soon as the door was closed, she was by Marshall’s side. Stroking his hair and speaking softly. “Your brother’s here. He’ll fix it Marshall. He’ll make you better.” And then she spoke to Charles, though she never took her eyes from Marshall’s face. “It’s time to stop warring with a dead man. If you don’t, he’ll rule you from the grave. It’s time to be the Alpha you were meant to be. You can do this. You can see what’s wrong. If you tell me then it can’t be done, I’ll believe you, but first you have to try.”

  Charles stood beside her and held out his left hand, palm downward, over Marshall’s chest. It shook as badly as Marshall’s had the night before. He stayed there for the longest time with his brother heaving and gasping on the bed.

  Elizabeth wanted to scream. How long could Marshall go on this way? “Charles,” she said, quietly and reasonably, “He’ll die if you don’t do this. Please, give him a chance.”

  The glow started at his fingertips and spread to the palm of his hand. Charles closed his eyes and moved his hand over his brother’s body. “There’s so much,” he whispered, “I don’t know where to begin.” His voice shook and Elizabeth shared his fear.

  “His lungs, he needs to breathe.”

  The glow brightened over Marshall’s chest and his breathing was suddenly easier. Charles’ breathing was easier, too. His hand steadied and moved to Marshall’s neck. Doc Palmer had done the best he could to draw the ragged edges of the tear together. Now Charles began to work his magic. Having watched Marshall weave the same magic only a few hours ago, Elizabeth knew he was healing from the inside out. She watched in awe as the wound healed.

  “You’re doing it,” she whispered.

  “Did you ever doubt it?” Charles asked cockily and winked at her. He used his right hand to draw the covers down and the healing golden glow ebbed and flowed from the palm of his hand.

  It was over an hour before he finished. In the end, Charles looked worse than Marshall. He was pale and drawn when he finally closed his hand into a fist and the golden light disappeared. When he turned from the bed, he swayed dangerously and Elizabeth had to catch him before he fell. She tucked herself under his shoulder and led him to the door.

  “Your precious Alpha will recover,” he told those waiting in the hall. “See if the horse doctor can start an IV. He needs fluids.” He looked at Henry. “You, too.”

  Elizabeth left him leaning against the door frame and ran back to Marshall. She stroked his hair and softly kissed his lips. “It wasn’t real. It was everything I dreamed of, but it wasn’t real.”

  Lust, like luxurious houses and expensive jewelry, was not enough to sustain a relationship. It was another lesson she’d learned from her mother, though it wasn’t one she’d meant to teach. Elizabeth didn’t want power or position. She wanted love. She wanted a man who loved her for herself and not because some genetic quirk tied them together. She wanted to love him the same way. With Marshall, how could she ever be sure? She would always doubt and that doubt would destroy whatever they might have had. Leaving now would be best for all concerned. Her broken heart would mend, or so she’d read, and Marshall would be free to find some other Alpha’s Mate better suited to the job.

  “It wasn’t real,” she whispered again, “But next time, I’ll know what I’m looking for and I thank you for that.”

  Elizabeth closed the door quietly behind her, knowing there wasn’t going to be a next time. She would have to be satisfied with the dream.

  Chapter 28

  The same woman was on the phone when Elizabeth and Charles walked into the kitchen. She looked up, saw Elizabeth, hung up without saying goodbye and scurried from the room.

  Charles looked at her and tried to keep a straight face. “I’m impressed,” he said. He started to laugh. “I’ll bet your library was as quiet as a tomb.”

  Elizabeth laughed with him, but it sounded false. “It’s the blood.” She lifted her lapel and wrinkled her nose. “It works every time. Let me get you something to eat.”

  She went to the refrigerator to pull out two steaks and forgot why she was there. She stared at the icy interior without seeing it.

  Marshall was alive. She’d made her small sacrifice, lost everything she thought she had and then found out she never had it at all. She wished she’d never come to this place.

  “Elizabeth? What’s wrong?”

  “Everything, Charles, absolutely everything.” She took the steaks from the refrigerator. She didn’t know why. “I can’t stay here.”

  Charles nodded. “Tell me what you need to do and where you need to be. I’ll make it happen.”

  Need to do. The words clicked in her head. She was doing again what Maggie had accused her of; wallowing in self-pity instead of doing what needed to be done.

  Charles had done what she asked him to and she would be forever grateful for it, but there was more he had to answer for. She needed those answers. Elizabeth looked around the kitchen and thought of the people milling about in the next room no doubt listening to every word that was said. She headed to the mudroom and the back door.

  “We need to go to the Home Place,” she said, “We’ll take my truck.”

  “Uh, Elizabeth?” Charles was following her without question, though he’d grabbed the pile of steaks and a bottle of something that was sitting on the counter. “I saw your truck. I don’t know what you did to it, but I wouldn’t be caught dead riding in it. I have my standards.”

  “Then give me your keys,” she said impatiently, “You’re in no shape to drive.”

  “Did you not hear me, love? I saw your truck. As much as I adore you, I will never, ever let you drive my car. Besides, you’re in no better shape than I am.” He caught the back of her jacket before she rounded the corner of the house. “Seeing us leave in the same car as me might not be a good idea.”

  “Worried about the rumor mill? My reputation? You’re way too late. They’ve already drawn their own conclusions.” She was done with these people. They couldn’t hurt her more than they already had.

  “No sense adding fuel to the fire.” He dangled his keys in front of her. “I’ll see you there.”

  Max and Gwenna caught up with her by the truck.

  “I told you I’d screw it up and I did,” Max told her. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You’ve got to let us explain.” It was clear she’d been crying.

  “Max, it’s okay.” It wasn’t. “I understand the process.” She didn’t. “But I can’t live with the results.” That was true. Regardless of the circumstances, these women had been kind to her and she didn’t want to hurt them. It was a culture clash, pure and simple, but one she couldn’t live with.

  “Don’t hold this against Marshall,” Gwenna said. She was crying openly. “It isn
’t his fault. It was ours. We called Mr. Begley. We asked him to bring you here. Marshall didn’t want a Mate, but he needed one. We needed one.”

  It was another slap in the face and they were only proving her point. They were at the root of this betrayal and Marshall was as much a victim as she was. It wasn’t real.

  “I have to go,” she said. Elizabeth pulled her seatbelt into place and closed the door.

  “Where?” Max cried.

  “Home,” she said and put the truck in reverse.

  “What the hell happened here,” was Charles’ greeting when she pulled up next to the Mercedes.

  “Marshall happened here. This is where he was almost killed. Saving me.” And I suspect it’s your fault.

  Elizabeth pushed past him into the kitchen, noting the screen door hanging from a single hinge and the broken door frame behind it. She pushed the overturned chair with her hip until she had enough room to right it and move it into the other room.

  Charles put the steaks and bottle on the counter and began to sweep up the broken glass with the broom that sat in the corner. It was the same broom she used to kill mice and fight off snakes; a symbol of her new life and new independence. It was a stupid thought and a stupid broom. She had all she could do not to cry.

  “We need to eat,” she said. She had to keep her mind on the business at hand. They both were exhausted and needed food; Charles more than she, because he’d expended so much energy healing his brother.

  While she was at the other house, away from all this, Marshall had been her first priority and she had divorced her mind from everything else that happened here. Now, looking at the mess, remembering her terrifying escape and the ultimate consequences that were its results, she wanted to vent her anger on the man most likely responsible for it. She clenched her fists and counted to ten and then counted to fifty for good measure. Screaming at Charles that this was all his fault would not get her the answers she needed.