Page 43 of Forced By the Alpha

“What do you have to say for yourself now that we’ve gotten the obvious out of the way?” She stood beside the bed while he sat down on it, leaning forward to put his head in his hands.

He didn’t deserve her. The realization struck him suddenly, and he felt like a fool for not seeing it before. She was a far better person than he could ever dream of being, and here she was yet again, giving him a chance. How many had he already gotten, and how many did he have left? He didn’t want to find out.

“I was nervous to leave the pack when we did, especially with Jonah and Emma leading them. When we got back, Emma said something had happened. Well, I thought my worst fears were coming true, and it was finally happening. I was losing the pack.” He realized how pathetic it sounded even as the words left his mouth. His father would have laughed in his face—spilling his guts to his second in command and his mate? He might as well roll over and show his vulnerable throat to the world.

Beth waited for more, eyes distant. The silence stretched on, but Devon couldn’t force out another word, not with his father’s derision stopping his tongue.

“That’s it? You got scared, so the first thing you thought to do was shut me out?” Beth sounded exasperated and, worse, hurt. And why wouldn’t she be? He’d failed her.

Devon threw up his hands, felt the reliable streak of anger spark beneath his shame. “And maybe I thought great, Beth knew I was leaving the pack alone and found a way to tell her pack it would be a good time to strike.”

She reeled back as if he’d slapped her. In a sick way, it was what he wanted. He wanted her to rage at him, yell at him, tell him that he was every bit as pathetic as he knew he was. Devon surged to his feet, ready to take whatever she threw at him, but when her words came they were cold, seeping into him like frostbite.

“After you promised me this time, we’d move forward together? After that, after everything we shared, your first thought was that I would betray you?”

Fat tears rolled down her cheeks, dripping off her jaw to splatter her dress like rain. They were harder to take than her anger. Devon turned away, unable to face her hurt.

“Don’t,” she said, crossing the distance between them and taking his chin in her hand, wrenching it around to face her. “Don’t you dare hide from me. What kind of person do you think I am? I meant what I said to you in the cabin. I just thought you meant it, too.”

She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of dropping down to his level, of fighting like he wanted to fight, and he almost hated her for that. Almost. Since he couldn’t fight, he wanted to hide, anything but stand there and listen to how she felt, and accept how he’d hurt her.

“I did mean it, of course, I did,” he said when the silence had gone on too long, and the disappointment and hurt on her face had started to calcify into something more like resignation.

She waited, expecting more, but he had no explanation to justify his actions, so he gave nothing at all.

“Do you remember what I said about the White Winters? They’ve done terrible, awful things, but it does not mean they are past the point of redemption. They can’t get there without accepting their actions and who they are.” She wrapped her arms around herself again, looking past Devon to the window behind him. You need to accept it, too, Devon. You’re scared, so you’re swayable. When you think violence will make you an alpha, you’re violent. When you think peace will make you an alpha, you’re peaceful. You’re my partner one second, and locking me out of the room the next.”

Devon collapsed back onto the bed like a puppet with his strings cut. He could hear the truth in her words, and he hated them, hated her for it. They were not so unlike the ones his father had said to him so long ago, delivered without the physical blows, the drunken yelling, the threats of disownment. His father’s specter grew until it seemed to fill the room.

Beth sat down beside him, hands in her lap. “We all have our flaws. It’s okay to have them. But you can’t please everyone, and trying to is only going to drive you crazy. What matters toyou?Start there.”

Cautiously, he reached for her hand. “You matter to me.”

She didn’t recoil from his touch or seem to see his father’s shadow behind him. Interlacing her fingers with his, she said, “Then don’t ever lock me out again. I don’t expect you to be perfect, but I can expect that much. If you ever treat me like that again, I will leave, Devon, and I won’t go to the Rosewoods, or anywhere else you can find me.”

Her matter-of-fact words, spoken out loud, had the weight of an oath. He took them seriously. “I promise I’ll try. But you know what they say about an old dog and new tricks.”

“Then be a wolf,” she said, kissing his cheek.

***

“Why is she here?” Emma froze in the doorway, glaring at Beth with naked hatred. “She’s probably the reason the Rosewoods—“

“Say one more word, and you’ll be sitting this out,” Beth snapped before Devon could open his mouth.

The pack was gathered in the kitchen. Beer bottles in hands, they draped themselves in chairs and filled the room with a charged, anticipatory energy, like a sports team before the final game. Or, less generously, barbarians eager for the call to battle. A single word would set them off, and they watched the volley between Beth and Emma with keen interest.

Jonah was at the oven, pulling out dish after dish. He buried himself in cooking when the tensions rose, Devon thought, a way to be a part of the pack without taking part in the worst moments of it. He wondered, watching his best friend stir a saucepan with a look of complete concentration, if Jonah ever regretted following him down this road.

“And are you going to make me?” Emma snarled.

“We will,” Devon said, touching Beth’s lower back and guiding her to a chair. They took their spots at the head of the table. Jonah had set it for two, and neither of them minded the snugness, their knees bumping under the table. “So sit down or get out.”

Emma snapped her mouth shut and shot Caleb a look. He shrugged, good man, and took a seat on Devon’s other side. Devon raised his beer to him.

Maybe Emma’s hold on him was slipping, or maybe he’d fallen in deep with Amy; whatever it was, Devon was grateful for one more wolf solidly on his side. Now, he just had to convince the rest of the pack to get there as well. Beth squeezed his thigh, a silent reminder that she was there and had his back now. He didn’t have to do this alone.

They’d talked until Devon’s throat was sore, and the ghost of his father, so solid before, had shrunken down to almost nothing. He’d laid out his guts for Beth, and she hadn’t laughed at him or been repulsed by his weakness. Hadn’t even thought it was a weakness. He was still getting used to the idea.

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