Page 87 of What a Wolf Demands

Lily tensed. The voice obviously belonged to Maxime Simard. Over the past few days, she hadn’t given much thought to what the New York Alpha might think of her—or if he would welcome her to his territory. Now Luc was in New York and probably spoiling for a fight. Oh, and he was recovering from a gunshot wound.

And it was all because of her.

Dom’s voice tightened. “Has he tried anything?”

There was a soft laugh. “Non. He’s too busy trying not to shit himself.”

Some of the tension drained from Lily’s shoulders. Max didn’t sound angry. Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as she thought.

“However,” Max said, “he’s adamant about going ahead with a trial.”

The tension blazed back with full force.

Dom looked her way, his blue gaze steady as he said, “He’s in no position to demand anything. He killed one of his own wolves in cold blood.”

“Sans aucun doute,” Max replied. Without a doubt. “But the wolves with him tell a different version of events.”

A powerful gust of wind rushed over the car, as if an invisible giant tried to shove it sideways.

A hard edge entered Dom’s voice as he steadied the wheel. “They’re lying. A Tracker will smell it the minute they speak.”

Max’s voice went silky. “You worry too much, Beta. There is no universe in which I would take the word of a ragtag pack of loup-garou over the sworn statement of my second-in-command.”

The deep voice sent a faint tremble shivering through Lily. Even over the phone, it was clear Maxime Simard wasn’t a wolf to trifle with. But he was also an Alpha, and that meant he was a political animal by nature. Even he couldn’t send Luc away without responding to the allegations against her. If he did, he’d anger every other Alpha in the country.

Worse, her relationship with Dom complicated things. The Mississippi wolves who escorted them to the airport weren’t fools. They’d known right away what she and Dom had done in that room.

Her cheeks heated, and she wiped her suddenly sweaty palms on her jeans.

By now, half the territories probably knew she was sleeping with Dominic Prado. How could Max host her trial without someone claiming it was rigged in her favor? That was the first thing Luc would say.

She drew in an unsteady breath as her heart started to pound. She was so tired of being on edge all the time. What she wouldn’t give to be back at Bart’s, slinging beers for smart-mouthed assholes and bad tippers. Sure, life had been boring then. But it had also been uncomplicated.

The thought of Bart made tears prick her eyes. She’d been so wrapped up in her own worries, she hadn’t thought about him. Or maybe her brain had forced the memories of the basement to the back of her brain. Trauma and loss could do that. After her parents died, she hadn’t cried for six months. It was as if she’d lost the ability to weep—to feel anything. Then the floodgates had opened.

Dom spoke again, pulling her back to the present. “I want your word Lily will get a fair trial.”

There was a pause, then Max replied, his tone whisper soft. “Are you implying I would allow anything else?”

The hairs on Lily’s arms lifted. Danger. Every cell in her body screamed it. Somehow, the quiet, measured calm in Max’s voice was worse than shouting. If she’d been capable of Turning, she would have cowered on the floor, her tail between her legs.

But Dom didn’t cower. His voice was steady when he said, “I won’t let anyone harm her.” It was clear he counted Max among “anyone.”

Oh no. Dom was going to side against his Alpha over her? Max could kill him for that kind of insubordination. There wasn’t an Alpha in the country who would tolerate that type of talk from a Beta.

There was a long moment of silence over the line, then Max said, “So Remy was right. You love this female.”

“I do,” Dom said without hesitation.

She stared at him, her heart pounding. He’d already said the words to her, of course, but hearing him admit it to someone else was altogether different. More meaningful. Before, when he’d kept it between them, he could have backed out.

Not now. He was putting everything on the line—his position as Beta, his relationship with Max, his reputation as a Hunter, maybe even his life.

For her.

The pounding in her chest increased. She couldn’t let him do this . . . couldn't let him risk his whole future on someone who might not have one.

Suddenly, the car felt smaller, as if the air had grown heavier. Her seat belt was too constrictive. Even her clothes felt tighter. A high-pitched whine filled her ears. Nausea burned her throat. Maybe she was carsick. When she got that way as a child, her mother used to tell her to look toward the horizon. She focused her gaze on a vague spot in the distance. Leaves blew across the road.

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