Across The Line. Amy Lee Burgess
Will in my arms so I could pass him to her. She surprised me when she reached out a hand to touch my face.
“I love you like a sister. You know that, don’tcha?”
“Of course,” I answered. “Right back at you, Alpha.”
I listened to her croon an Irish song to her son as Will nursed while I threw on jeans and a turtleneck sweater. It didn’t matter what the hell I wore to the hunt—I’d only have to take it off to shift. But maybe there was a ceremony or something for the pack bond part.
In the kitchen, Murphy was stirring a pan of scrambled eggs. His attire was no help—jeans and a sweater.
Ah, fuck it. I’d change if he and Fee dressed up, but I could eat breakfast in jeans. If I could eat. My stomach gave another ominous churn. I found my mug of tea on the table and took a hasty sip. Cold. Barf.
“You’re my rock, you know that?” Murphy kept his attention focused on the eggs, so he missed my shocked stare. “I’ll take you to that French restaurant soon, I swear, Stanzie.”
“How did you know?” I hadn’t told him in case things hadn’t worked out. Good call on my part because they hadn’t.
“Restaurant called to confirm the reservations last night,” he said. I winced. Damn. Why hadn’t I taken my cell phone into the bedroom?
“There will be other times.” I headed for the electric kettle to boil more water. Cold chamomile tea was disgusting.
“But we’ll have to wait a whole year for it to be our anniversary again,” he said, and a flood of warmth rushed through me. He remembered. I hadn’t been sure he would. It was not as if our bonding had been all hearts and flowers romantic. He’d done it to save my ass from Councilor Celine Ducharme. We hadn’t even slept in the same bed the first night. He’d been fleeing the ghost of Sorcha, and I’d ended up drunk and sad on a bottle of champagne. Fun times. But still, he remembered.
“Pack don’t celebrate anniversaries like Others do. It’s not a big deal, Murphy.”
He took the kettle out of my hands and set it down on the dark granite counter so he could hug me. In the cocoon of his arms, I felt safe. Loved. How long had it been since we’d hugged each other? I couldn’t even remember.
I buried my face in his neck and inhaled his unique, beloved scent. Autumn wind and leather. God, I loved this man.
“You’ve been so damn patient, Stanzie. I keep waiting for you to get angry, but you never do.” His mouth was so close to my ear, the warmth of his breath sent shivers down my spine.
“Angry about what?” I was honestly confused.
“You see? That’s why you’re my rock. Everyone in this damned pack is falling to pieces expecting me to pick them up and put them back together but you don’t. You suffer just as much, more even, and you don’t come crying to me to be fixed.”
I swallowed past an obstruction in my throat. So many times I’d wanted to cry in his arms, and let him cry in mine, but Fee or their mother, Siobhan, or any number of Mac Tire pack members had always gotten there first.
“I know you don’t want to take the pack bond, but I can’t wait. They’ll turn to Colm after that. Colm and Deirdre because they know Fee’s too close to the grief. I’m walking such a fine line, honey. I try to send them to Colm, but they won’t go.”
I hadn’t thought of the pack bond from that perspective. Nor had I considered Murphy might be uneasily aware he was close to usurping Colm’s position as Alpha. In times of crises and grief, a pack member’s natural inclination was to turn to his Alpha, but they’d been turning to Murphy. But the realization they hadn’t also turned to Colm and Deirdre was new to me.
That had to be a dilemma for Murphy. Another one. More than ever, I was glad I hadn’t added my neediness to his already heavy load.
“I guess they remember what a wonderful Alpha you were.” I brushed my fingers along the side of his face and his lashes swept his cheeks.
“You’ll be fine today, Stanzie,” he told me when he opened his dark eyes. “You and your wolf.”
For a shiny moment I even believed him. No wonder the whole damn pack turned to him.
* * * *
The moment the three of us alighted from Murphy’s black BMW, a crowd of jostling pack members surrounded us. Intent on getting to Fee, Murphy or both, I soon found myself on the outside of the cluster.
I took Will in his car seat out of the BMW and shouldered his diaper bag. The kids of the pack, including the more responsible teens who would not be shifting, were inside the castle and would watch over the baby during the hunt.
I shuddered when I looked at the cold gray stones of Mac Tire’s castle. Technically, it belonged to the Ireland and UK Mac Tire packs, who contributed to its upkeep. Also a safe house, both the Regional and Great Councils paid into the funds used for taxes, grounds keeping, and general repairs.
But the Dublin pack truly owned it. We shifted here on the private land that abutted the Donadea Forest Park.
I hadn’t been here since Paddy’s funeral. I’d come here after his murder, broken and grieving, to attend the tribunal of the man who helped kill him. Murphy and Fee’s father, Glenn, tried to strangle me on the main staircase and if not for Ryan Kelly knocking him down the steps where Glenn broke his neck, I would be dead too.
I wasn’t a huge fan of the damn castle.
Gwenith McCarthy, one of the pack’s young teens, rushed down the gravel walkway, her face aglow. She adored babies and I let her take Will and his diaper bag so she could coo over him as she walked back to the castle.
The day was cold and dismal and I thought about lecturing Gwenith over her lack of a jacket, but couldn’t find the heart. She loved babies so much. I didn’t want to burst her happy bubble. Christ knew, I wished I had one.
The pack gathered in the front courtyard. No one but the kids went inside the castle.
Every step I took seemed to take more and more effort. On the castle steps, Colm’s bright red hair shone even in the muted November daylight and he had one large, muscled arm around frail Deirdre Collins’s shoulders. She was nearly six months pregnant and the round bump of her belly swelled beneath her tight blue winter coat. Paddy’s death at least ensured Deirdre’s baby would live because Fee bonded with her and Colm after the funeral.
Only Alphas could have children. Deirdre discovered she was pregnant a few days before Paddy’s murder. She’d been scheduled to have an abortion until Grandfather Mick’s knife ended Paddy’s life and reign as Alpha.
Sour bile rose in my throat. Had they made the pack bond elixir yet? Didn’t they need Fee’s blood too? Maybe Colm took her blood yesterday. Shouldn’t it be fresh? What would it taste like? Hopefully not as vile as my father’s blood mixed with herbs had tasted when I drank it to break his pack bond.
What would the new bond feel like inside me? Would it chain my wolf the way my father’s shackled her?
Panic, white-hot and nauseating, gathered into a fist in the pit of my stomach. Oh God, I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t willingly swallow any Alpha’s blood and chain my wolf to his and the others in the pack. No.
I darted into the bushes beside the gravel path and puked. My legs went out from beneath me and I crouched on the gravel so it dug into my kneecaps. The brittle sticks of a winter-sleeping bush scraped at my cheek. I spewed again, half-digested chunks of eggs and toast, and the smell made me gag.
“Mother of God, tell me you haven’t gone and gotten yourself pregnant,” scolded someone I knew well. And dreaded. Siobhan Carmichael—Murphy and Fee’s mother. She hated me. Hated me for bonding with her son. Hated me more for causing her bond mate Glenn’s death. She thought he’d had a heart attack under the strain of the tribunal which I’d called against Declan Byrne. She