Page 43 of Owned By Four Alphas

Selena didn’t ask him where he went. She didn’t care. She was too tired, too drained, too hurt to worry about his scheming. After all, he was Fae. It was in his nature to be deceptive and sly. When her mates cornered him, he merely said he was chasing a solution to all their current problems.

They were moving slowly, much to Kaelen’s anger. He was insistent that they should put as many miles between the Marble Halls and the pack as possible, as there were sure to be alphas hunting them through the woods. He wanted to go back to the Palace of Embers to the north, back to his people. He claimed they’d be able to defend themselves from there.

Ronan disagreed. He didn’t want to bring war to any of the clan lands. He believed they would be safer in the woods until the baby was born, as Selena’s magic was too volatile, her condition too delicate, to risk trusting anyone but themselves.

Not that he seemed to trust Kaelen or Elian at all. The only times they spoke were to argue. When Kaelen grumbled about their speed, Ronan was quick to snarl that Selena couldn’t move faster. When Kaelen talked about the merits of returning to his territory, Ronan would refuse point-blank. If Kaelen got aggressive, Ronan would get more aggressive.

There wasn’t much Kaelen could do about it. Selena had decided to follow Ronan’s judgement, whatever that might be. And she only let Ronan or Malek carry her or help her or even talk to her.

After all, as long as she was physically safe, what did Kaelen care? Her bitterness had only increased with their travels.

It had been two weeks since the outburst. Two weeks since she had killed those nobles. After she had sobbed her heart out into Malek’s chest, a strange sort of numbness had swept through her body, leaving her vacant and uncaring.

Not even her baby, kicking and wriggling, mere weeks away from birth, brought her any measure of joy.

She was a ghost. Malek, or Ronan, would carry her through the woods, and she would offer no protest. Sometimes, they would set her down and she would glumly walk, unfeeling of the branches that caught her dress or the brambles that bit into her ankles. They would soon pick her up again. She knew they were trying to coax some life out of her, but she didn’t have anything to give.

Not when she’d taken so much.

At night, her dreams were plagued by her father, calling and desperate, the woods melting into fire as he begged her to find him. She would wake, screaming, flames still licking at her skin, until Ronan or Malek would comfort her. Normally both of them. At night, one of them would shift, and the other would cradle her against the warm fur in his arms until she slept. Sometimes, after a particularly stressful day, both of them would shift, curling around each other creating a nest to cocoon her.

It never kept the nightmares away.

Kaelen was beside himself. With every stumble, every waking scream, he would lurch towards her before stopping himself, his muscles tense, his jaw set in anger. Selena couldn’t bring herself to feel sorry for him. He had said he didn’t care if she hated him, so long as she was safe.

And now she was neither.

She didn’t know how the break between them could ever be fixed. Sometimes, she would Ronan or Malek looking at him with a funny glint in their eye, almost as if assessing him for weakness, sizing him up. The same with Elian, when he was around.

And sometimes, she would see Elian and Kaelen engaged in some kind of silent conversion, looking back at them, their eyes narrowed.

Before, she might have spoken. Might have tried to heal the torn rifts between them all.

But now?

Now, it was an effort simply to open her eyes in the morning.

Whatever magical reserves she had left after the outburst were entirely focused on the health of her child, feeding it, cocooning and nurturing it. Out in the wilds, completely reliant on her mates, her physical body was deteriorating, too. She knew she could do more to look after herself, but she was just so tired.

The faces of the alphas that she had killed floated behind her eyes whenever she blinked, their dying screams echoing through her skull. It turned her stomach. She hardly ate. Despite the baby, she knew she had lost weight.

Ronan didn’t understand. He tried to ply her with all manner of meats and berries, even stole some cakes from a nearby settlement of Fae. She didn’t accept any of it. He would get frustrated, telling her she needed to eat, needed to look after herself, that it hadn’t been her fault.

His words fell on deaf ears.

It was her fault. She deserved to suffer.

They were moving through the neutral territory towards the center of the realm. Later that day, they would enter Ronan’s territory, or what was left of it. Ronan guessed that many of his people would have travelled north to join with the Northern clan, leaving the south of his lands free for them to use. He knew the territory well, knew which camps would be safe to stay at, where hopefully there would be food, clothes, and medical provisions left for her upcoming birth.

By his estimate, they were apparently only a few days away.

She was being carried by Malek, her arms strung loosely around his neck, his gait gentle. Once, she had asked him if he ever got tired carrying her, and he had given her a strange look. She hadn’t asked again.

“How is the baby today?” he asked, his voice rough from not using it. Like her, he had retreated within himself, destroying himself over and over again with guilt. She hummed, burying her face into his neck to hide the welling tears. He didn’t say anything, just held her closer.

He was the only one who understood. The only one who seemed to know what she really needed. Ronan, as safe and secure as she felt in his arms, couldn’t understand what was going through her head. She trusted him to look after her physical body, but had closed her mind to him.

It was better that way. If he saw the chaos, the guilt, the self-hatred, there was no telling what he would do. He might even leave her. He was so noble, so moral. He wouldn’t understand the truth.

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