Page 44 of Possessive Alpha

I angle my head back to meet Ty’s gaze. He’s back to frowning again. “You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”

“No, I’m fine,” I say, distracted. I search his face for any sign of… something. Because I’m not about to ask what he was doing, I back up. “You looked busy.”

He doesn’t release my hip. Instead, he guides me toward the house. “Not so busy I wouldn’t want to see you. Layla wanted to ask my opinion of Jackson.”

Suddenly the name is familiar.

She arrived a couple of days ago, but she’s been quiet, more so than most new arrivals. I don’t think I’ve seen her during breakfast and only briefly at the start of dinner. “Why you?”

Did that sound like I might be jealous?

He squeezes my hip, a sure sign—at least to me—that yeah, I don’t think I’m fooling him.

“I mean, whatever,” I say, feigning casualness.

He stops and stares down at me. “So you were just going to leave me out there talking to Layla?”

“No, I was going to scratch her eyes out for making you laugh.” I snap my mouth shut. Way too late to take back the snarl I let slip out.

What does Ty do?

He grins down at me, pleased apparently at the jealousy I couldn’t bottle up. “I’d do the same. Come on, sweetheart.”

We walk up the porch steps, and Ty holds the door open for me. “She was an enforcer in her old pack before a new alpha took over and decided women would be better in the kitchen than protecting a pack. She wanted to know if she’d face similar opinions here.”

“Did she now?”

I jump at Jackson’s voice.

He’s just inside the kitchen, Regan alongside him, and his expression is blank, which is unusual for Jackson. He’s usually an open book.

“She did.” Ty nods.

“And is she still around?” Jackson asks, stepping out of the kitchen.

Ty releases my hip and backs up, shouting out the door, “He wants a word with you, Layla!”

I stick close to Ty, curious.

Layla takes seconds to appear at the door. Her expression is wary, growing more so when she clocks Jackson observing her. “Yeah?”

“Come here,” Jackson quietly orders.

Visibly stiffening, Layla crosses over to Jackson and stands directly in front of him. “Yes, alpha?”

“You want to be an enforcer.” There’s no hint what he thinks of that.

“I do,” Layla responds without hesitation.

Clara isn’t the only one lured to the entryway by the sudden drama. She parts her lips, probably to ask what’s going on. I subtly shake my head and refocus on Jackson and Layla.

“Why?” Jackson demands.

“I want to protect. And I’m good at it. If you think?—”

Jackson lifts a hand, and she falls silent. “That’s enough.”

Silence reigns in the entryway as Jackson scrutinizes Layla. Is he quietly judging her? Deciding if she can do what she said she could? Or something else.

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