Page 45 of Forced By the Alpha

“I think we should put you back in confinement. It keeps you safe and shows that I’m not just trusting you blindly. We shouldn’t act too comfortable with each other, either. Let them think we’re still fighting.”

“We are still fighting,” Beth said, poking him in the chest with the eraser. “You are still in serious trouble. This is just the first step toward you getting out of said trouble. Trouble with me, trouble with your sister, trouble with your pack.”

She’d counted his problems off on her fingers, one by one. He’d never enjoyed a lecture more.

Devon focused again on the present, resisting the urge to look over at Beth and make sure she was still on board with the plan. He just had to trust her.

“We get the land, we keep our luna, and the Rosewoods are no longer our problem to deal with. We can expand as we please up here,” Devon finished.

He looked to Jonah first. He hadn’t told them about the plan, not yet, because Jonah was the worst poker player in the world. If he’d known the truth of the matter, it’d be written all over his face. Out of the loop, Jonah’s face was wrinkled with worry. Good, they were selling it.

Emma, for once, seemed struck silent. She peeled the label off her beer bottle into long, narrow strips, and piled them next to her plate.

It was Caleb who broke the silence. He slapped the table and got to his feet, raising his beer bottle in a toast.

“To a whole new world, boys!” He crowed, then he turned and raised his beer again, this time toward the head of the table where Devon and Beth sat. “And to our Alpha and Luna and the pile of puppies we expect from you!”

Beth choked on her water. Devon raised his beer and clinked it against Caleb’s and everyone else he could reach. Even Emma, in the end, joined in. Only Beth refrained, playing, he hoped, just playing, the reluctant prisoner.

When he took his seat again, he let his hand fall onto her lap. Only after he felt Beth's smaller, softer hand settle into his own could he breathe out.

Chapter 17 - Beth

When playing the prisoner, Beth realized it was too easy to fall back into the melancholy and despair she’d first experienced when arriving at the White Winter house. Even with Jonah’s constant and cheerful banter through the door and Devon’s regular, if clandestine, visits, it was hard to remember that it was just an act now, a charade to achieve their ultimate goals.

Each time Devon returned to her room, she searched his face for signs that it was still an act for him as well, that he was not playing her for a fool. When he left, it was impossible to avoid believing the worst. Around and around, she went, trapped in her room and in her mind. She was desperate for him to stay longer, angry when he couldn’t, and spiteful when he came back to her at last.

The days were running into each other. She found she spent most of her time asleep, lying down on her bed to read, only to find, hours later, the book strewn on the floor and the sun lower in the sky. Jonah would wake her to tell her it was dinner time, and it was impossible, she’d insist, since she’d only fallen asleep a moment ago.

She blamed it on the isolation and the way she could exhaust herself, running circles in her mind, questioning Devon’s intentions, feelings, and plan. Sitting on the windowsill, one of the few places in the room she could guarantee she wouldn’t fall asleep in, she felt those early urges return. To run away. To get a message, somehow, to Adria. To be back with the Rosewoods.

Devon knocked at the door sometime after dinner, carrying her plate and his own. He sent Jonah away and shut the door behind him.

“Do you eat with the others and then have a second meal with me?” Beth asked, taking the plates and setting them on her desk. Their new tradition.

“Have to keep up appearances,” he said, pulling her chair out for her. Part of the tradition was the mock seriousness of it, acting like they were out for a date. “Besides, I need my energy.”

“At your age?” She smirked, eyeing him up and down. “Hardly a growing boy.”

Besides silver strands threading through his brown hair, there was little to belie his age. Creases that wrinkled at the corners of his eyes when he smiled, yes, but the sparkle of gold in those eyes pulled all the attention. His taut chest might have belonged to that of a college athlete. She could hardly keep from wanting him each time she looked at him.

He scowled but kissed her all the same. “If I had known I was in for a lifetime of mockery, I might have found someone older.”

“A lifetime? If you’re lucky,” she said.

“Very lucky,” he agreed. He sat down beside her and filled her in on the day, beginning with an excellent impression of an old-timey radio anchor to make her laugh. It always did.

“Now tell me seriously, is Emma on the warpath?” she asked when their laughter died down.

“She’s only just returned home from scouting. I sent her out just so she wouldn’t have time to cause too much trouble, and we got the message out to the Rosewoods today.” She noticed that he pushed his plate away, not entirely clear, and stretched his legs out long in front of him. He always seemed too large for her room, after so much time spent alone in it.

Beth sat up, food forgotten. “And did they respond?”

“Not yet. I’m sure they’ll need time to think it over and talk it over before they send anything back. It could be days, it could be weeks.”

“Weeks?” Beth’s voice came out more strained than she’d wanted it to. She looked around the room, frantic, feeling the walls close in even smaller.

Devon knelt in front of her chair and took her head in his hands. Even kneeling, he was tall enough to kiss her. He planted soft kisses on the corners of her mouth and up her cheek.

---