Page 65 of Want It All
‘There won’t be anext time,’ I hissed, my control snapping. ‘This isit. You’repack.’
He studied me in the soft light of the stars, and I gazed back, trying to take in how truly beautiful he was. His expression was closed and his eyes were cold; a moment later, he pushed past me, barging my shoulder.
‘Pack is achoice, Grace.’
WhenTristandidn’treturnafter a couple of hours, I tried not to worry.
My mind played out a hundred different scenarios. Best case was that he’d found a complementary scent and was blowing its owner’s mind beneath a tree, getting ready to bring them back to our room so we could make sure they were complementary with me, too.
Worst case, someone had spiked his drink and he was lying dead under said tree, with a bunch of drunk alphas fucking all around him, taking no notice.
Which was impossible.Everybodynoticed Tristan.
At two in the morning, I gave up and texted Rose.
To my surprise, she answered immediately.What’s wrong?
Tristan isn’t back yet.
She called a moment later. ‘Byron hasn’t checked in, either,’ she said, by way of greeting.
I stretched out on the couch, staring at the ceiling. ‘Maybe they got wasted together.’
‘I don’t think Byron can drink. Because of all the medication.’
I sighed. ‘Tristan refuses to drink anything that costs less than three hundred dollars a bottle, anyway.’ I rolled onto my side. ‘All I could see from my window were cans of bourbon and cola.’
Rose made a noise which could have been disgust at the alphas’ drink choices, or a scoff at Tristan’s pickiness, or perhaps both. ‘Maybe … Maybe they’re just having a really good time?’
‘I don’t know if I prefer that thought, or hate it.’
‘Because you’re not out there, too, being the centre of Tristan’s world?’
I snorted. ‘I’m the centre of his world whether I’m with him or not.’
Rose was silent for a moment. ‘That must be nice,’ she said, not bothering to hide the wistfulness in her tone.
I’d never really thought about whether it was nice or not; I’d always taken it for granted. I frowned, shaken by the notion that other people – thatRose– didn’t have the same kind of unwavering devotion, the same kind of steadfast security.
A moment later, I realised that I wanted togivethat feeling. To her, specifically.
The realisation shook me further.
I took a shuddering breath. ‘Rosebud –’
A scratch outside interrupted me, and after some scraping noises and some thumps – maybe Tristanhaddrunk some of the pre-mixed drinks? – the door opened.
‘Alpha –’ I started, intending to playfully needle him, but something was terribly wrong.
Tristan staggered into the room, looking all kinds of wrecked. His curls were a mess, his glasses askew. His shirt was crumpled, the buttons undone to just below his pecs, showing a stretch of skin I wasn’t sure hewantedexposed.
I didn’t freeze because of any of that, though. It was his eyes, glazed and unseeing. He stumbled to the couch and collapsed to sit, cradling his head in his hands.
I darted to close and lock the door behind him, seized by the sudden notion that someone was after him. I’d been briefed by his family, after all; I knew it was a possibility, and always would be.
But no one came after Tristan; no one beside the demon he was battling, anyway. I knelt before him, tentatively placing my hands on his thighs. ‘Alpha?’
He gave a shuddering exhale. ‘Seb. My love.’
