Why I can’t call her mine or go thinking she truly is—there are simply far too many complications for that type of true-love, fairy tale nonsense.
My gaze tracks the clusters and pairs that make up the members of our pack, names rattling through my brain and responsibility stacking like bricks on my chest.
Even when Conall first agreed to marry Natalia—a foregone notion that causes a jealous flare of sizzling, bubbling heat—Kerrigan had stayed at the compound, treating every single injured werewolf who couldn’t regenerate.
Even though most of the pack was still accusing her of being a witch.
She loved Conall enough to save his people, even when she didn’t believe she could have him in the way she so desperately wanted.
Now those faces have turned their hate-filled leers toward my wife.
Letting my alpha power flow, I level a glare at every single sneer and disrespectful glance aimed at Natalia, until nobody dares to look our way.
Yeah. That’s what I thought. Assholes.
Except I should probably point that sentiment right back at myself and make a decision already. Who was she to me? Enemy? Ally? Villain? Wife?
Shifting my weight from one foot to the other, I frown at the downer thoughts that creep up as if I’m not painfully aware of the stakes.
As if I need another reminder that I’m responsible for every person gathered around the fire and all of the people gathered to watch the ax throwing event, as well as those who stayed indoors during tonight’s festivities.
It’s not just about keeping the peace or enforcing rules or even about being super nice and giving a witch we barely know a chance.
It’s about ensuring that none of them—her included—die.
Talia and her powers might be the only thing standing between us and a war we can't win. The other wolves didn’t get a glimpse of the Hollow like I did.
Not the darkness lingering just inside, watching and waiting, clawing toward her the instant she stepped inside.
It wants her.
So do I, which is playing a huge part in my confusion and conflicted feelings.
Since I still don’t know what to do with them, I decide to go my usual route. Stuff them inside, shove a lid on top, and pretend they don’t exist.
It’s not like I can do it forever.
But every single person in this meadow deserves a break before hell comes to greet us, be it vampires or hunters or whatever other threat is out there lying in wait.
Just for tonight, I decide to let my people laugh and drink and get a little rowdy and shout. It might be the last carefree night they get for a long, long time.
I shove up my sleeves and throw down the gauntlet. Might as well treat them to a real competition, too. I hold my hand out to my wife like we’re about to fuckin’ dance in some fancy ballroom. “Ready to take a spin?”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Diego’s arm snaps back,the ax a blur of metal and wood as it arcs through the air.
It lands dead center, splitting the handle of the ax Conall had lodged in the bullseye.
The crowd whoops and hollers, and Diego lifts his arms, eating up the applause and riling his audience up some more.
“Now who’s the showoff?” Conall mutters from the log he’s perched on next to Kerrigan, but there’s a proud gleam I didn’t expect after all the shit-talking they’d done when Diego told him to go ahead and leave the ax in the target so everyone could see the clear winner.
Then Diego waves me closer, signaling it’s my turn.
I skip over, excitement driving my bounce and my pace. There’s an itch in my palms and anxious energy coursing up and down my arms. The werewolves have shown me such a great time, I’m eager to contribute to tonight’s entertainment however I can.
Someone’s already dislodged Diego’s ax, as well as Conall’s mangled one. But there’s a whole freaking pile to my left to choose from, as if they’re doomsday-prepper lumberjacks.