Page 12 of Ruffled Feathers

However, the fact that the house was mine, that the money she was given as an allowance came from the trust funds set up with my money, all that petty shit, it weighed far heavier on Tillie than it did on me. My Alpha had leapt at the chance to provide for the little spitfire. When she was a teen, she’d argued with our parents that it was charity, that she’d rather work than live off my scraps.

And she had. No one could ever call Tillie a freeloader. But I think it still irked her that she had to take some of the benefits, because she’d have to work two jobs to find a place she could afford here, and whatever she found probably wouldn’t allow pets. So she was stuck in this house, and I had no doubt that most of her allowance was paying for the food and upkeep of the menagerie of animals.

I didn’t care. If that made her happy, she could have a whole fucking zoo. I’d learned really early on that I wanted nothing more than for Tillie to be happy. She deserved the world, and I could give her a small slice of it, with no strings attached.

So I gave her a stern look. “It’s your home too; don’t be petulant. I won’t get in the way of whatever”—I waved at the zombie-dog, who was licking the floor—“thisis.” I put my hand over hers, and she looked down at the contact like my fingers were about to burst into flames. “I just want you to be safe and happy, that’s it. And I want to be someone you can fall back on while our parents are out of town. Me and Truett.”

Chewing her full lower lip, her cheeks pink with embarrassment, she finally nodded. “Okay, sorry. Of course you can stay. I swear, it’s not as bad as it seems, and the charges won’t stick.”

Of course they wouldn’t. I trusted Truett to get her off the hook for that. I trusted no one else the way I trusted him; he cared about Tillie as much as I did.

Nodding, I gave her a soft smile. “I guess you better introduce me to the rest of our housemates then.” I lifted my chin at the dog so fat, it looked more like a barrel than anything that was supposed to walk on four legs.

“That’s Honkers. He’s ten, and his owner recently went into a rest home. The rescue said he needed extensive physiotherapy and exercise, but that it would probably be more humane to just put him down.” The dog in question looked up at her so lovingly, it was hard to imagine anyone suggesting he be euthanized. She scratched his head equally as adoringly, and I melted.

Late at night, I’d rage that she couldn’t be mine. Sometimes I wondered if I could say fuck it to having an Omega, and just keep Tillie. Surely, even if I was depriving my Packmate of an Omega, he could see that Otillie-James would be enough.

But eventually, she wouldn’t be. We’d go into rut, and she’d suffer. We might even hurt her. She was Unshown. She wasn’t made for my world, my designation. The old ache in my chest burned, and I rubbed at it as she ran through all the animals on the property, along with their laundry list of problems.

But by the end, I found myself smiling more and more. Tillie didn’t give up on the hopeless cases. She stood up for the underdog—literally. She believed everything deserved a chance, and that’s what made her so damn special.

That’s what made me love her.

Five

Otillie-James

Although I lived in a city, high society was small, and the gossip grapevine was far-reaching and as noxious as a weed. Which meant I wasn’t surprised when my dad video-called me later that night. I honestly considered dodging the call and sending him a generic text that pretended everything was fine, but I knew he wouldn’t quit calling until he heard my voice. We both knew I couldn’t lie to him if I had to see him face-to-face.

Pressing the green answer button, I pasted a cheerful smile on my face. “Hey, Dad, how’s Alaska?”

“Good. Saw a Dall Sheep yesterday,” he answered gruffly. “How was prison?”

I winced.Fuck.“It was only a holding cell, and I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just a big mistake.”

“You werejustmistakenly at a cockfight on the bad side of town during a police raid?”

Damn it.I’d hoped the gossip mill had left out the reason I’d been picked up by the cops. “You know I wasn’t participating in a cockfight, Dad.”

“Of course not, Peaches, but you werethere, in a dangerous situation. Willingly, I hope?” he asked lightly. I wished I could lieto him, but he knew me too well. For most of my life, he’d been my only parent, and sometimes the only person I saw for weeks, aside from my online classroom friends. He knew all my tells, knew when I was lying, and he’d call me out on my bullshit in an instant.

Sighing, I pinched my nose. “Yeah, I was there willingly, but I tried to do what you said. I went about everything the right way. I reported that cockfighting ring over a month ago, and they did nothing. How was I supposed to know that the one night they’d decide to actually do something would be the night I decided to rescue the roosters from their painful deaths by the cruelty of man?” Okay, I was laying it on a little thick, but I was in trouble otherwise. “Besides, Sonny and Truett bailed me out, and you know Truett won’t let anything serious come of this. He’s way too anal-retentive to accept anything but a complete dismissal.”

The fact Dad hadn’t led with Lancelot being here meant that whoever had tattled to him and Citrine hadn’t been my stepbrother or his Packmate.

Dad harrumphed, and I changed the topic to his research up there with Citrine. They were working with some university, and while I didn’t understand the complete breadth of their research, it paid them very well to be there in the freezing cold tundras of Alaska.

We talked for a little longer, and I managed to finesse him off the phone without bringing up my charges or court case again. I wasn’t fooling myself into thinking that was the last I’d hear about it, but at least I might have more answers when he called again.

Moving back down the stairs to the garage, I did my nightly rounds of feeding and medicine. It was exhausting, but it gave me a purpose. It was something I was good at, and I wouldn’t give that up. Eventually, I’d have to, especially once Dad andCitrine returned from Alaska, but that was almost a year away, so hopefully I’d have another plan by then.

Lancelot knocked on the doorjamb of the garage. “Do you need a hand?”

I glanced down at the six kittens, each one mewling and lurching around, like they knew it was dinnertime but couldn’t find the food. They had a special incubator they lived in, keeping them warm and helping them grow, but I knew they probably missed their mother. She’d been found dead on the side of a road, with ten kittens in a nest behind a dumpster. The rescue had split the babies, and I’d ended up with six of the worse-off ones. They were hard work, though.

Looking up at Lancelot, I gave him a small smile of thanks. “Please.” I handed him one of the tiny bottles, and he grabbed up a kitten in gentle hands. I couldn’t help but watch. He had soft eyes; they were the reason I’d brought him home. They held empathy, but also so much pain that it made my chest hurt.

Despite what Truett thought, I hadn’t just met Lancelot and invited him home like an idiot. And honestly, he hadn’t easily accepted my invitation either. I’d gone back every day for a week, taking him lunch, before he’d decided I was serious in my offer, not just obligated to repay him for his kindness. He and Akio had come home with me, and he’d been nothing but polite and helpful since.

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