Page 142 of Altius
I took a moment to absorb his words before asking carefully, “You don’t think Owen cares about you?”
“I know he does. Or at least, he tries to.” Running a hand through his sweaty hair, Wyatt slumped backward. “He also thinks paying the mortgage early is a head alpha’s prime directive. And yes, I know, I’m staying here rent-free, and he loaned me the down payment for my car. All of which I am immensely thankful for.” Wyatt fixed me with a cold stare. How very Redmond of him. “But it’s transactional, isn’t it?”
I crossed my arms. “Not sure I follow.”
“You were fine waiting for Cal’s grandfather to kick the bucket until Alijah came along. A pack needs a minimum of three people. Who was he supposed to lord over if you decided you’d rather be mated than stick around? So, he gave you thebare minimum. Registration paperwork and a pack residence. Nothing else changed—did it?”
Fists digging into muscular thighs, he continued.
“You do the chores he assigns. Eat together when it’s convenient for him. Decorate with things he tolerates. Serve party food with his stamp of approval. You can’t even pursue Morgan, our perfect omega, without his permission.”
“He wasn’t sure about her at first, because of business ethics. You know he changed his mind.”
At least, I thought he had, given all the paperwork shenanigans. But he hadn’t said anything definitive, which could prove problematic in the long run. I’d just assumed we were all on the same page.
Wyatt’s laugh was harsh. Dismissive.
“Hismind. Not because Alijah’s crazy about her or because you lick your chops every time she walks into the room. Or because I’ve been in love with her for years.” He leaned forward. “No, it’s becausehefinally wised up and realized Morgan’s a fucking goddess who deserves a pack of Cals, not whatever we’re pretending to be. After seeing how she grew up, what her parents are like, and how her siblings interact with their packs, can you honestly saythisis a pack? A proper, healthy pack?”
“Never said it was,” I admitted quietly. “We might not all be at Cal’s level, but this ismypack, and it has potential. We’d be stronger with you, Wyatt. You know that.”
“But that’s not good enough for me. I refuse to fuck things up with her again.” He got up, pulling his shirt off as he headed for the bathroom, leaving the stench of rotten, almost oily plant matter in his wake. “You can get out now.”
The bathroom door slammed shut. He wasted no time in starting the exhaust fan and shower.
I turned, reaching for the doorknob, when the first trickle of scalding, acerbic tea reached me.
Owen was outside the door. Eavesdropping. And livid.
“Fuck,” I muttered and turned the handle.
He stood pin-straight in the dead center of the walkway, steely eyes fixed, unseeing out the expansive double-height living room windows.
Calm, too calm, except for his right ring finger, tapping steadily against the seam of his suit pants.
After a tense moment, he said in a voice as thin as black ice and just as treacherous, “What, pray tell, constitutesa pack of Cals?”
“Ooh, did that touch a nerve?”
Closing the door, I sauntered toward the relative privacy of the upstairs living room, trusting he would follow. I refused for our bedroom to smell like emotionally overwrought Earl Grey.
Owen matched my pace. “Answer me.”
“Why? You already know.”
“Joaquin.” He barked.
Owen fucking barked. At me. Using my name as a command to disarm me.
Something my deceased alpha fathers did preciselyoncethe entire time I was growing up, because I lied about cheating on an algebra test.
What a weak, spineless move from our glorious leader.
His dominance slammed into the center of my back, making me stagger forward.
I grabbed onto the side of the gray chaise for support. A tremor rattled my knees. Sweat broke out along my hairline.
“Very. Fucking. Mature.” I ground out each word, refusing to play his game. Cal might have me beat in height and money, but his dominance wasn’t second to Owen’s.
