Alpha. Rachel Vincent
only three weeks in the ground, and we’d seen so much tragedy and disaster since his death that we’d had to put true mourning on hold. But his absence still snuck up on me at night, when I was lonely and needed someone to talk to. In many ways, Ethan had been the soul of our family, much as my mother was the heart, and his death had seared a hole through my own chest. Sometimes I thought we’d never truly recover, as a family or as a Pride.
“Did Marc come through here?” I asked, as my father rounded the front of the van.
“I thought he was with you.” He took the key I offered while the guys helped Bert Di Carlo with the luggage.
“He was. He just…needed some time to himself. He’ll be back soon.”
He raised one graying eyebrow, then nodded and unlocked the front door. I followed him into the living room, glancing around at the familiar worn furniture and outdated kitchen appliances. It looked about the same as it had when we’d left—was it really just three months ago?—and without my werecat’s nose, I couldn’t even smell the residual blood.
Ethan’s blood. My brother had been gored here, defending me and Kaci. And now he was gone. For a moment I got lost in the memory, and in the pain of my own loss. So much had changed in so short a time. Very little of it for the better.
“Faythe?” My father frowned at me as the guys trooped in with our luggage. “Quarters will be a little cramped, since we’re doubling up.” Last time, only four territories had been represented; this time, all ten Alphas were coming, with enforcer entourages. “I’m putting you, Marc, and Jace in the far bedroom, but I’m guessing Jace won’t mind taking the couch, if you think that would be…more prudent.”
“Yeah, about that…” My hands twisted together, in spite of my own best efforts to keep them still. To remain calm. Then I forged ahead before I could back out. “Dad, I need to talk to you.” I half whispered, hoping the others wouldn’t hear. Though they’d find out soon enough, anyway. “In private.”
Jace glanced at me on his way to the first bedroom, carrying four suitcases at once. My father took one look at my face and nodded. “Outside?”
“Sure.” I hunched into my coat and followed him back into the February cold, so much sharper and bitterer than it had been in November.
My dad clomped down the steps in hiking boots and jeans. It was too cold for his traditional suit and dress shoes, though he’d probably change before heading to the main lodge. “What’s wrong, kitten?” He slid one strong arm around my shoulders, and I leaned into him as we walked, treasuring the voluntary physical contact after spending most of the past week virtually untouched.
But I waited until we were on the edge of the tree line—out of casual earshot—to answer, trying to come up with an acceptable opening line while we walked. When my dad finally stopped and faced me, I made myself meet his gaze. Long gone were the days when I would stare at the ground and whisper confessions like a naughty little girl, even if that’s exactly what I felt like. I’d made a very adult mistake—which necessitated a very adult decision I had yet to make.
“Faythe…?” My father prodded, and I could read growing concern in his crinkled forehead and the tense line of his jaw. He even seemed to have more silver in the gray streaks at his temples. “Is this about Marc?”
“Yeah. Um, things have gotten a little complicated between me and Marc.” I crossed my arms over my chest to hold my coat closed. “And Jace…”
“Jace?” My dad blinked, and I saw the exact moment understanding surfaced behind his eyes. He closed them, and his next exhale was long and very, very heavy. He glanced at the cabin, then motioned for me to follow him into the woods, where he stopped before we lost sight of the van. “How long?”
“Since the day Ethan…” I leaned with my palm on a bare tree trunk. I couldn’t finish that sentence. “But I’m not…We’re not…I don’t think we need to get into details here, Daddy, but Jace and I…connected, and it’s not…Okay, it is physical, to some extent, but it’s more than that. A lot more.”
He sighed again and looked at me with his poker face in place, and something in my chest tightened. I desperately wanted to be able to read his reaction. “And Marc knows?”
“Yeah.” I took a deep breath, preparing to say the worst part. “As does half the council.”
“What?” His poker face collapsed beneath bold lines of anger and bewilderment.
“Dad, we were going to tell you when things got a little calmer and we’d had a chance to sort it all out. But when we went to the lodge to pick up the key, Jerald Pierce called me a whore in front of half the council, so I think it’s safe to say that this particular cat is out of the bag. And they’re probably going to try to use it against us.”
“How on earth did Jerald find out?” my father demanded softly, but I knew what he was really asking: How the hell can the entire opposing half of the Territorial Council know something so intimate about three of his enforcers, when he didn’t know?
“Alex Malone figured it out last week, while Dean was using my face for a cutting board. Then Dean told Marc. And evidently anyone else who would listen. But I wanted you to hear it from me. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. We didn’t want to give you one more thing to worry about.”
My father glanced at the forest floor, then sank onto a thick, dry fallen log. “How is Marc?”
I closed my eyes against the burn of fresh tears. “He’s pissed, and hurt, and about a dozen other complicated, volatile emotions he has every right to feel. He’s fighting his instinct to kill Jace, and he’s not exactly happy with me, either. Though for the record, I’m not even sure he could kill Jace. He says I have to choose. Soon.”
“He’s right. This could get ugly, Faythe. Marc’s thought of you as his since you were sixteen years old, and temporarily losing you to the human world was hard enough for him. But to another tom? One who’s shown some serious grit lately? I’m guessing he’s juggling a lot of pain and humiliation, and coming from a potential Alpha, those are both likely to look a lot like anger.”
“I’d call it more of an encompassing, blinding rage.” I swiped one sleeve across my eyes and sat next to him. The bark was cold and rough, even through my jeans, but the trees blocked most of the frigid wind.
“And do you understand why?” My father’s voice was soft, his gaze calmly searching.
The answer seemed obvious, but the quiet intensity with which he asked told me that this was important enough for me to dig deeper than my impulse answer. I was the first potential Alpha in history who didn’t have a personal understanding of the tomcat’s position in our world, and how tenuous that status really was.
“Because this is about more than me hurting him. More than our relationship.” Shit. My heart crumpled as the system of dots began to connect in my head, illustrating for me the complicated connections and hierarchies that defined a tomcat’s rank within our world. “I’ve damaged his status. They already see him as an outsider, as inherently weaker. Lesser. They’ll see this as me rejecting Marc on some level, and if he’s not good enough for me, why would he be good enough for them?” My father nodded, and I hated myself a little more.
I’d insulted Marc personally and politically. I’d stabbed him in the back and in the heart at the same time. And considering how very public our troubles were about to become, I now considered myself lucky he was even speaking to me.
“Is this going to hurt us, politically?”
“You’re not on trial this time, Faythe.”
But we both knew I was. We all were. Everything a Pride cat does reflects on his Alpha, and all of it was fair game during the vote. Which is what we’d been counting on, with respect to the bloodstained feathers still in my inside jacket pocket.
Unfortunately, that sword sliced both ways.