Page 50 of Impregnated By the Alpha

Devon caught Jonah in a one-arm hug, and Moira knew she should take the opportunity to leave, to run off before they shifted and caught her, but she couldn’t drag herself away. She was hanging on every word the men had to say.

“They’ll come around. Like I said, you’re the best guy I know.”

Jonah said something she couldn’t hear, something that made Devon laugh, and then they both shifted into their wolf forms. Moira laid flat in the sand and held her breath. Their scents grew further away, but she still waited. Everything she’d feared turned out to be false. The truth was, Jonah cared about her, cared about the Silversands, and was everything he said he was trying to be.

She knew Vera wouldn’t believe her words, no matter what she said, but if they could catch the real culprit, she’d have no choice but to admit that Jonah was not at fault for everything. Five minutes later, when she was certain the beach was empty, Moira got to her feet and shook the sand from her fur.

She felt lighter than she had in months. Their situation was complicated, messy, anything but a simple fairy tale, but it was their story. If she dared to, she could let her feelings for Jonah blossom into something she didn’t have to hide.

If she hurried, she could still make it to the Rosewood meeting and make it clear that she supported Jonah. They’d be wasting time if they focused on him, and the real villain would get away. Moira couldn’t stand the idea of Mrs. Alden being hurt as part of a plot to get to her, so she put on an extra burst of speed.

The Rosewoods were out hunting. She heard the howling calls back and forth as they kept track of each other, crisscrossing the town and into the dense thicket of woods that ringed it. They were drawing nearer to each other, coming together at the Rosewood tree, she guessed. Moira made her way there.

“There you are,” Vera said, shifting into her human form when she reached the tree's overhanging branches. She pushed one aside and joined Moira.

“Did you find something?” Moira asked, tense. Her fingers dug into her palms.

Adria joined them, shaking her long hair out while shedding her wolf form. “We caught Mrs. Alden’s scent, mixed with a shifter’s. Whoever they are, they led us in circles and slipped away from us, somehow. They’re crafty.”

Spencer growled his frustration and snapped at the air. When he shifted, his eyes were stormy. “Bastard. Did anyone get a good look at him?”

Vera shifted, hands linked behind her back. Moira knew the gesture; it was the one she made when she wanted to conceal the truth. She gave Vera a jab with her elbow to push her forward.

She shot Moira a venomous look but relented under Spencer and Adria’s hopeful gazes. “I did.”

“And?” Spencer prompted, rounding on her. He was fired up from the hunt and seemed eager to get back to it, to sink his teeth into the wolf that had been terrorizing his pack. “Who was it?”

“Was it Jonah?” Adria asked with an apologetic look toward Moira.

Vera looked at Moira sideways before admitting, “No, it wasn’t. It was someone unfamiliar. A new wolf, I think.”

Moira’s heart swelled even though she knew it couldn’t have been Jonah they’d been stalking as she’d had eyes on him all night. It was the relief of the rest of the pack knowing that it wasn’t her mate at fault for everything. Even Vera had to admit it now.

Spencer scratched the stubble on his chin, thoughtful.

Moira jumped in to add her own weight to the accusation. “Was it tan and large, bigger than most wolves?”

Vera nodded. “From what I saw, it might’ve been tan. It was hard to tell in the light, but he was big.”

Moira realized she was cradling her arm, concealing it from the others behind her back. On closer inspection, she could see the lines of pain on Vera’s face that she had mistaken for exhaustion after her run with the pack. The crinkles around her eyes were tight with it.

“What happened?” Moira demanded, pulling Vera’s arm forward carefully. Her palm came back wet with warm, red blood. If she hadn’t been so distracted, she wouldn’t have been able to miss the rusty tang of it in the air.

Vera glanced down at the wound and shrugged it off. Under the flickering lights of the tree, Moira could make out the raking scrapes down her forearm, the skin peeled back to reveal the angry flesh below.

“He was out for blood tonight,” she said, pulling her scarf from her neck to wrap it tightly around the bleeding gash. “He jumped me when I was on my way to the meeting. Bastard caught me before I shifted, or I would’ve ripped his throat out and fed it to him.”

Blood rushed from Moira’s face. She couldn’t help picturing what might have happened if Vera hadn’t reacted so quickly, if she hadn’t been such a capable, scrappy fighter. A human was no match for a wolf, and definitely not one of that size.

“How did you get away?” Moira gasped.

She wanted to pull Vera into a hug and never let her go, but knew the gesture would not be appreciated right then. She felt at fault for what had happened to her, as if she could’ve stopped it somehow.

Adria stepped in. “I was just across the street when it happened and heard her yell. He was quick, though. By the time I’d shifted and howled for the others, he’d taken off into the woods.”

Spencer crossed his arms and glared around the green like the wolf in question might reappear at any moment. He looked older, shadowed crags in his face, after the struggles of the past few weeks. It must be eating at him, unable to catch the monster that lurked so closely to those he loved most.

“And then the hunt was on,” Vera said, clutching her arm. Blood seeped into the scarf and stained it crimson, the fabric ruined. “I should go stitch this up and get some antibiotics. Who knows what kind of filth was in that mouth.”

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