Page 24 of Impregnated By the Alpha

“I need a walk,” she said, “and I don’t need company.”

“I know you don’t, and I know you’re more than capable of handling yourself, but it’s late, it’s dark, and you’re drunk,” he said in a rush. “I won’t say a word the whole time.”

There were moments in Moira’s life when Vera’s voice became the one inside her head. Right now, she heard her sister telling her not to be so pathetic. That Moira must be so desperate for approval and attention, she’d even take it from the man who had made her life hell so many years ago.

“Don’t say a single word,” Moira demanded, snatching the jacket out of his hands.

She wrapped it around her shoulders, hating how warm it was, how it smelled like him, like soap and coffee and something that must be all Jonah, wild and sweet.

The tidy streets of Rosewood were safe, lined with streetlights and glowing lamps on front porches. She didn’t need an escort. Was it fear that stopped her from telling him to leave, some remnant of that bullying where she found it easier to just go along with what he said rather than try to fight it?

Whatever it was, she couldn’t stop stealing glances at him from the corner of her eye. She caught him looking at her more than once before he’d drop his gaze to the sidewalk, hands deep in his pockets. In the silence, she could pretend there was no history between them. She'd be thrilled if he were just a man, just a stupidly hot man walking her home.

Emotions twisted inside of her until it all became too much. She shifted and felt the sharp burn of human feelings fade away to a dull ache, the scents, and sights of the night flooding through her to take their place. Before Jonah could respond, she took off.

The Rosewood streets were so familiar, even at a run, she knew exactly where to go, winding closer to the town center. She felt Jonah on her heels, the thud of his paws on the sidewalk, his animal scent, and put on a burst of speed. Up ahead, the tree stood like a sentinel in the center of the green.

She fled to it, seeking shelter at its base. The grass was soft against her paw pads, and the leaves on low-hanging branches brushed against her back in greeting as she made her way to the trunk. There, she threw herself down against its roots, into the moss that pillowed the ground there.

Jonah loped up, hesitant. His eyes glowed in the night, autumn-leaf orange against his coffee-brown fur. He sat down a few feet before her, head quirked to the side. She could have run home instead and shut the door in his face, but she hadn’t. There had been something driving her to that tree, something that compelled her not to shut him out, even as her fear drove her to do just that.

Was it fate? The Silversand soothsayer had decreed it, and even through her denial, she knew it would come true. She imagined their bond as chains, wrapping them together and dragging them down.

For the first time, she considered how Jonah must feel. He had never liked her, obviously, his bullying had told her that much long ago, and now he was doomed to be mated to her for all time. Yet he hadn’t run away or lashed out at her.

Adria had said that he might have changed and not be the person he’d been so many years ago. People didn’t really change, though. That’s what Vera said, and when Moira looked at herself, she couldn’t deny it. She was still the insecure, unambitious girl she’d been in high school, content with her small-town life and her little joys. If she hadn’t changed, had Jonah?

She didn’t want to run before she found out. She was tired of running in her home, tired of looking over her shoulder for the bogeyman. Her bogeyman was here, in front of her, and he wanted to talk. And if she wasn’t the kind of woman who could confront her bogeyman, she would have to pretend to be. For one night, she could pretend.

Shifting, Moira settled herself into the root’s embrace, finding a crook to lean against. She settled Jonah’s coat on her shoulders and, with a steadying breath, patted the spot beside her. “Come and sit. We need to talk.”

Her voice did not shake, nor did her hands, even as he came closer and shifted, taking the spot she’d indicated. He drew one knee up to his chest and wrapped an arm around it, tilting his head to look at her sideways.

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” he said, voice raw with an emotion she couldn’t place.

His father had died. He’d left his pack to come here and found out he was fated to mate with a Rosewood. Jonah’s world must be tilting on its axis, just as hers was. He was not the implacable bully from her childhood. She had the power right now when he needed something from her. Moira grasped that thought like a life raft as she pushed on.

“You’re not leaving anytime soon, are you?” Moira ran her hands over the moss, focusing on the texture of the miniature forest rather than on the tension crackling between her and Jonah.

“I can’t.” He sounded desperate, trapped. “I thought when I first came here, I’d just pay my respects and go, even though I know it’s my duty to take my place as alpha.”

Moira interrupted. “You don’t want to be alpha?”

It was surprising, based on the Jonah she’d known. In high school, he’d looked for the approval of his friends and classmates and sought it out in the laughter garnered from his bullying. Becoming alpha would mean a steady supply of approval and power.

He laughed quietly and looked down at his shoes, at her hand between them. “No, not at all. I liked helping Devon, being second-in-command, supporting him. But I don’t want to be anyone’s leader. I’m not… I’m not cut out for that. They’d just be disappointed.”

You’ve got that right, Moira thought but didn’t say. He looked so broken there, with the moonlight illuminating half of his face, that the words died on her tongue.

“You can’t be worse than your father,” she offered. “Sorry, I shouldn’t speak of him that way, now that he’s gone.”

Jonah shrugged. “No, you’re right, and I appreciate honesty. That’s why I was torn on whether I should stay or not. My father dragged the pack down, nearly ruined it. Isn’t it my duty to try and fix it now that he’s gone?”

Moira thought of expectations, the way they settled on to shoulders and pressed down, harder and harder, as they were left unmet. They came from the outside, from family and friends, and from the inside as well, from self doubt. She knew all too well how they could overwhelm the inner voice that spoke of what was truly desired.

“I think you need to do what brings you peace,” she said, after a long moment of silence.

“Is that what you do?” Jonah asked. He seemed eager to shift the conversation away from himself, and his eyes lit up when they landed back on her.

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