Page 19 of Coveted By the Alpha Pack

Lorcan chuckles, his eyes dancing with a mix of amusement and understanding. “Four alphas, an omega, and a broken beta,” he muses, the corners of his lips quirking up in a half-smile. “It almost sounds like the start of either a terrible joke or a movie on Pawhub.”

“It’s more like a giant comedy of errors around here,” I admit, my voice tinged with a hint of wry amusement. “Ethan is Grace’s sire, for lack of a better term, since his wolf is the one that changed her.” I take a moment to swirl my drink in my mug, the liquid sloshing softly against the sides. “Barrett is her second favorite, most of the time, to be honest.” I pause, a soft chuckle escaping me. “Then again, they joke about being sister wives all the time, since Barrett is bonded to my brothers and me as well.” As I delve into the intricacies of our family dynamics, a sense of peace washes over me, like finally finding the missing piece to a complicated puzzle.

“I can understand that. The way he was talking about his relationship with Grace, he feels as if he’s her equal. That’s unheard of for an Omega to be given that level of respect in a pack. Most are just used and abused and tossed aside.” I nod, my mind flooded with images of Lorcan’s words, each one painting a vivid picture of the injustice endured by omegas. Lorcan’s voice carries a weight of bitterness, his eyes reflecting the pain of countless tales of abuse.

“But Grace... she’s different,” I interject, a swell of pride swelling within me as I speak of her. “She’s not just a leader; she’s a protector. A guardian of those who have long been forgotten or mistreated.”

The memory of Grace’s fierce determination flashes before me, her unwavering resolve in the face of injustice. “Grace would never allow such cruelty to persist under her watch,” I declare, my voice brimming with certainty.

Lorcan’s demeanor shifts, his usual lightheartedness replaced by a solemn acknowledgment. “Yeah,” he murmurs, a hint of admiration tingeing his words. “Grace doesn’t mess around when it comes to protecting her own from what I’m told.”

I offer a small smile, a ripple of amusement coursing through me at the memory of Grace’s fierce retribution. “Remember what Barrett said she did to his stepfather?” I remark, a chuckle escaping me despite the seriousness of the topic. “That bastard had it coming for years.”

Lorcan’s laughter echoes mine, a shared understanding passing between us. “True,” he concedes, his expression softening with genuine appreciation. “Having Grace as our mate definitely has its perks.”

I nod in agreement, though a pang of sympathy tugs at my heart for Grace, burdened with a power she never sought. “It’s not easy for her, you know,” I murmur, my gaze drifting to the horizon as if searching for her silhouette against the fading light. “The weight of that legacy... it’s a heavy burden to bear.” But even as I speak, I know Grace carries it with grace and strength, a beacon of hope in a world too often clouded by darkness.

Chapter 12

Lorcan

-Midnight Sun- North Atlas-

I’ve been back in America for a week now, and it’s been a whirlwind of events. Everywhere I turn, I hear Grace and her bonded mates tirelessly managing the local packs. Despite the chaos, I yearn for a moment with my mate, but each time, she’s summoned to yet another urgent situation.

In my heart, I understand I’m not being rejected, but the feeling of invisibility is becoming harder to bear. Thankfully, Agnes, ever empathetic, guided me out into the garden to find solace on the swing beneath the sweeping branches of the weeping willow tree.

Grace’s garden is a haven of scents; each bloom is more fragrant than the last. The warmth of the American spring envelops me, a stark contrast to the cooler weather I’m accustomed to back home. I can only imagine the intensity of the summer heat yet to come.

The snap of a branch draws my attention, and I turn to listen for whomever is approaching from upwind. “It’s just me,” Grace says, her tone carrying weariness.

“How’s your day been, lass?” I pause my swinging, offering her a space beside me if she desires.

Grace slowly leans her head against the ball of my shoulder, her breath heavy, almost like she’s carrying the weight of the world within her chest. The signs of exhaustion etch themselves deeper into her body as she wraps her arm around mine. She’s holding on as if she’s clinging to the last bit of strength she has.

“It’s a day,” she murmurs, her voice a mixture of resignation and fatigue. I can feel her exhaustion seeping into me, making my own shoulders feel heavier.

“I bet. You have the weight of the world on your shoulders, lass. Plus, you’re the mom of three pups and six men,” I say, trying to inject a touch of levity into the moment. I offer her a gentle smile, hoping to bring even a small spark of light to her.

Grace chuckles softly, but it’s a hollow sound, and she sighs once more. “I never asked for any of this.”

“Any of what, lass?” I ask, laying my hand over hers on my arm, giving it a reassuring pat.

“I never wanted to be Luna. Hell, less than a year ago, I didn’t even know shifters existed. They were merely characters in one of my romance novels I was writing,” she confesses, her voice heavy with the weight of her newfound responsibilities.

“What would you do differently if you didn’t have to manage everything?” I ask, my heart aching to know the burdens she carries, and the desires hidden within her heart.

Grace lifts her head off of my shoulder, and as she does, I feel a tug at my heart, as if her departure creates a void that only her presence can fill. She turns to face me, her eyes searching mine with a mix of vulnerability and determination. I can see the hazy outline of her turned to face me. Her fingers delicately weave through my thick beard, sending a shiver down my spine, while her thumbs caress my cheeks, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

Summoning courage, I mirror her gesture, reaching up to touch her face. Grace doesn’t pull away; instead, she leans into my touch, her skin soft beneath my fingertips. It’s as if a silent understanding passes between us, a language of touch that transcends words.

“Honestly?” Her voice quivers slightly, betraying the weight of her words.

“Honestly...” I offer her a reassuring smile, hoping to ease the burden she carries.

I feel the subtle shifts in her expression beneath my hand, her face becoming a canvas where emotions paint their hues. Now I realize her intention—to let me feel what she feels, to share her world through tactile connection.

“My life before the guys wasn’t the best,” she begins, her voice carrying the weight of memories. I sense the moment she looks away, her head dipping slightly as she retraces the paths of her past. “Coming back to Wolf Creek was the best decision to save my daughter and I. I also got to spend time with my grandmother before she passed.”

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