Page 42 of Impregnated By the Alpha

A White Winter sigil was carved into the bookstore’s door. Someone was trying to pin this on him. Someone wanted Jonah chased out of town. Unfortunately, the list of people with a vendetta against Jonah could be a mile long, starting with Evelyn and ending with Moira. It wasn’t helpful to narrow it down.

“And you don’t think it was me?” Jonah couldn’t resist asking.

Rami was the closest thing he’d made to a friend since moving to Silversand, other than Moira, and he didn’t want to lose the connection he’d built with him. He might be his only ally in his bid for alpha.

“No, of course not. You’d have to be really diabolical for that,” Rami considered. “Come back and finish the Silversand pack off by turning the Rosewoods into enemies?”

Jonah slumped his head into his hands. “Oh man, don’t let Evelyn overhear you saying that. It sounds too plausible for her to ever forget it.”

“Someone wants us to believe it’s you, though,” Rami said.

“That’s what I was thinking.”

Jonah thought of Moira’s sister, Vera. Originally, she’d wanted Jonah to stick around in hopes that it would drive Moria away, and push her into the future Vera imagined for her. But now that Jonah was thinking of staying, had her plans changed? With Moira and Jonah mates, she’d have to drive both of them away to push Moira out of this town.

It was possible, if unlikely, and he wasn’t sure how he’d be able to delicate question either of the sisters about Vera’s possible involvement without stirring up more trouble. The other trail led to Evans. Evans wanted to be alpha, but would he stoop to eliminating his competition to make it happen?

He filed both of those possibilities away, not ready to share his thoughts with Rami just yet. If he started accusing Evans without solid evidence, people would just think he was jealous of the competition. Jonah needed more to go on, first.

“Can you do me a favor and cover up the sigil before too many people see it?” Jonah asked, cringing. “I’ll come over and repair it after work.”

“Already done,” Rami said. “I hung a big sign on the door, promising a half-off sale today only.” He looked at his watch and stood up. “Speaking off, I gotta get going. See you later, Jonah.”

“See ya,” Jonah said, clearing the teapot and cups away.

The second his shift was over, Jonah was out the door. He barely waited for Evelyn to tie her apron on before leaving, earning another glare from her, but he had no time to waste. It was a short walk over to Rami’s bookshop, and he took it at a jog. The sign was still up, and a few people were browsing inside. Jonah promised himself he could grab two books once his work was done on the door.

“Got a toolbox I can borrow?” He asked Rami after he rang up a set of customers.

“Sure thing, let me grab it.” Rami went in the back and came back with an old, beat-up toolbox that was overflowing and unable to close. “It’s been back there for ages but it should have everything you need to fix it up. Thanks for doing it. I’m not very handy, honestly.”

Jonah couldn’t imagine the slim, scholarly man lifting much more than a fountain pen. “No problem. I’ll have to remove the door, but it’s a nice enough day.”

He set to work, sanding and repairing the scratches gouged into the wood. Rami was right about the sigil; it was the mark of the White Winter pack etched boldly across the door. It felt good to work, to grind away the damage, sweat prickling his brow.

Rami brought out a can of paint that matched the forest green already on the door, and Jonah brushed it on, the paintbrush in his hand ringing back memories of working on the lighthouse with Moira. They needed to head back and finish it soon, but he knew the incident had spooked her. She wouldn’t feel comfortable there until the culprit was caught.

“Aren’t you a handyman,” a woman said from behind him, her voice similar enough to Moira’s that he knew it was Vera before she turned around. “What happened?”

He eyed her, remembering his suspicions from earlier. “Just helping out a friend. What are you doing in this part of town?”

“Just visiting the beach. Don’t forget, I was a Silversand once.” She nodded at the toolbox. “A lot of tools just for some new paint.”

Did she know what had happened to the door already? Was she coming by to check her handiwork and make sure it was having the impact she’d hoped for? It was impossible to read her face, yet unlike Moira’s, it was all hard angles and sharp lines.

Subtly, he tried to inspect her nails, looking for any that might have broken off during the assault on the door, but she kept them tucked under her arms. “You know these old buildings,” he said, turning back to his work, “nothing is ever simple.”

She didn’t take the hint and move on. “Is it true what Moira said? That the soothsayer called you fated mates? Or is that just part of your plan to get what you want out of her?”

“It’s the truth. We’re fated to be together,” he said, his chest warming at the words. “And it’s tied, somehow, to the future of the Silversands. Moira is meant to be here, Vera. She’s meant to be a part of this place.”

Vera’s lip curled as she looked around at the shabby street with its dilapidated buildings and empty homes. “Only the best for her, huh? Some prince charming.”

With that, she left, and Jonah was no closer to figuring out whether she’d had a part in the latest vandalism. It was suspicious, her dropping by the day after it had happened, but it wasn’t enough to base anything on. Not enough to bring it up to Moira.

He left the door to dry and stepped inside the bookshop, deciding to pursue his other idea. Rami was alone, and the shop cleared out.

“Hey Rami, what can you tell me about Evans?”

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