Page 83 of Want It All
Come out, you fucking coward, the dark-haired boy shouted, striding across the front lawn of a suburban home.Come out and look me in the eye.
Nothing stirred.
Come out, Byron roared, and this time, the sound was carried by his alpha bark. Even second-hand, my spine straightened without me telling it to; behind me, Sebastian tensed.
The front door opened and a sandy-haired alpha stumbled out, clearly against his will. Byron wasted no time, dragging the man down onto the grass. I winced as his fist connected with the other alpha’s cheekbone.You killed her, Byron said, calmer now.He pulled back, then let his fist fly again, this time straight into the sandy-haired alpha’s nose.You killed my sister.
I closed my eyes as the sound of fists on flesh continued, keeping them closed until Byron’s voice came again.Get up, he barked.Get up. I’m not even close to finished with you.
Somehow, the other alpha got to his feet. His body looked wrong; all kinds of noises came from his limbs as he straightened them beneath the force of Byron’s bark. The alpha’s packmates stood on the verandah, watching, but they made no move to intervene. Numbly, I wondered why; Byron was one boy in the face of four grown men.
Had the sandy-haired alpha made a terrible, tragic mistake? Had he not realised how much he’d drunk when he’d scented Byron’s sister – Christina – and convinced her to go home with him before he’d lost control of his car? Or was drink driving something he’d done before?
And either way, did his pack think hedeservedthe justice Byron was offering? Was that why they made no move to help?
I held my breath at the thud of Byron’s fists meeting flesh once more, then exhaled when another man sprinted across the lawn, throwing his arms around Byron and putting his own body between the two alphas.
No, no, no,Carwyn Griffiths pleaded, his glasses askew, his black hair in disarray.Stop, B. You’ll kill him, and we can’t lose you too. We can’t.
I shut the laptop with a click and burrowed into Sebastian’s arms.
I didn’t sleep – how could I? – but I did think. For hours, I thought about what I’d learned: what Tristan had done, what Sebastian had kept from me, what Byron had been through. The hurt I was feeling melded with the hurt I felt on their behalf – for the insecurity that Tristan hid so well, for the pressure he put on himself to give Sebastian the things he wanted, rather than accepting that Sebastian loved him for his own sake. For the torn loyalty Sebastian must have felt in keeping secrets, even in the face of his own guilt. For the way that Byron’s actions years ago cast lasting shadows over the potential for his future happiness.
Sebastian stirred awake in the early hours of the morning, and I slid onto him, taking him inside me and rocking slowly until we came together in a gentle explosion of soft gasps and even softer kisses. He nuzzled my neck, scraping his teeth over my skin. I brought his lips back to my mouth. I wanted his bite –badly– but not until I’d worked through what I needed to do to fix all this.
Because I’d had enough of crying, that was for sure. Butthinking?
Thinking was something I could never get enough of, and it was something I was good at.
I’d solve this, one way or another.
It was, of course, more difficult than I’d expected; Byron didn’t come to class for the next week. Nor did he respond to messages or calls, and neither did Tristan see him at the gym, or in the pool, or in the gardens.
Sebastian and I pushed each other to work on our final essays. We’d chosen different topics, so we bounced ideas offone another, testing our arguments, checking our references, helping each other with word choice. It was hard to focus, so we’d work in short bursts and be rewarded at the end with cups of tea, made by Tristan, who spent every waking hour keeping a watchful eye on both of us.
By the weekend, I felt largely like myself again. I’d stopped trembling, my temperature returned to normal, and I could eat properly once more.
I resented my reaction as much as I resented anything about my designation, and I hated the reminder that alphas held so much power.
‘It’s not right,’ I growled.
‘No,’ Sebastian agreed, absently stroking my calf as he sat on the floor before me, reading through a journal article on his tablet. His fingers paused. ‘What’s not right?’
‘Alphas,’ I answered.
He looked across at Tristan, who was in the kitchen, making caramel slice because Sebastian had asked for it, a pained expression on his face. ‘Um.’
I put my laptop aside. ‘I have to do something.’
‘What kind of something?’ Sebastian said warily, watching me get to my feet. ‘Rosebud? What kind of something?’
I blew him a kiss. ‘Don’t wait up.’
‘Rose, what –’ Tristan started, but I dodged past him, smiling, and closed the apartment door behind me.
From their point of view, this would seem impulsive. But I’d thought about this non-stop for a week. I was tired of tiptoeing around my own instincts and the quirks of my designation. I’d been letting things happentome, rather than making them happen for myself, but it didn’t have to be that way.
I didn’t have to wait for the pack I wanted to form around me.
