Page 9 of Forced By the Alpha

A knock at the door interrupted her tirade. Jonah poked his head in, ever the peacekeeper.

"You two alright in here?”

“Here’s your puppy now,” Emma snorted.

Devon was one second away from putting her through a wall. He pushed her, hard into Jonah’s arms.

“Get her out of my sight.”

Jonah whistled. “Guess that’s a no. Come on, Em. You can kick my ass at a round of pool.”

“Get off of me,” Emma said, twisting out of his grip. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

She skulked out of the room, Jonah on her heels. Devon watched them go, jaw clenched. He poured himself a glass of whiskey, downed it in one before grabbing the bottle and following them out. He wasn’t ready to head back to the den, still fuming, still ready to throttle Emma. Every time he looked at his pack, all he could see were the cracks.

Instead, he took the stairs up to the Rosewood’s room. A guard was at the door, looking bored.

“Go get some food. I’ve got this.” Devon waved him away.

He didn’t need to tell him twice. He flashed him a grateful salute and trotted past him down the hall. Devon listened at the door for a moment. He didn’t know what he’d expected to hear—her throwing things against the wall, crying, yelling for her release? Any of those would have made sense to him, but it was silent.

Maybe she was sleeping. He decided not to risk waking her with a knock and turned the knob instead, letting himself into her room. It was dark, and the electric fireplace on the far wall was the only light. She lay across the bed, but her eyes were open, pale in the fire’s glow.

“Didn’t your parents teach you to knock?”

“Oh, you’re speaking to me now?” Devon slipped in and shut the door behind him, leaning back against it. “That’s new.”

She sat up. He could see her favoring that leg despite her attempt to hide it.

“Why are you here?” She pulled her good leg into her chest and wrapped her arms around it, a shield between herself and Devon.

“Well, my house and all,” he said, gesturing around the room with the whiskey bottle. “Care for a drink?”

She huffed out a breath. “I don’t want to have a drink with you.”

He poured himself one and sipped it, watching her. Her eyes were wary, tracking him. Doe-like. More deer than wolf.

“Fair enough.” He waved his glass at her. “Clearly not poison, though.”

“Obviously. If you wanted me dead, you wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of bringing me here.”

Devon tilted his head to one side. “I wouldn’t be too sure of that. Plenty here want you dead.”

“You mean that girl. Emma.”

“She’s one of them, sure.”

“Just one? You White Winters are as bloodthirsty as I thought.”

She rested her head on the top of her knee. Her eyes drifted down his body, from the top of his head to his feet, and back up again. He wondered if he had passed the inspection.

“We do what we have to.” He wouldn’t apologize for his pack or for the choices he’d made. If he started, he’d never stop.

Those doe eyes fixed on his. “Are you blissfully unaware that Emma wants to be alpha, or are you just ignoring the problem until it comes and rips out your throat?”

His fingers tightened on the neck of the whiskey bottle. “She’s my problem. You’ve got enough of your own, don’t you think, to be worrying about mine?”

“Not really. She wants me dead. You want me alive. Seems in my best interest to take this particular problem of yours on for myself.”

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