Page 50 of Depraved
Pluto’s laugh isn’t kind. When he looks at me, he shakes his head. “You just figured that out now?”
I swallow hard. So, he doesn’t think it’s working? Or he doesn’t think I’m a beta elite? I’m not quite sure how to respond. Something about the way he stares at me makes the hairs on the back of my neck rise.
Instead of outright asking, I just continue with my train of thought. “Something just feels wrong. Off. It shouldn’t be this hard.”
He smacks his hands together in a sarcastic clap. “No shit, it shouldn’t be this hard, Sherlock.”
“Well, what’s wrong? What am I doing wrong?” I rub a hand over my head in frustration, feeling the short, buzzed strands.
“Your wolf is what’s wrong.”
I bristle at that, just like any shifter word. My wolf snarls.
“What do you mean my wolf is what’s wrong?” I’m careful to keep my tone even and curious, though my wolf wants me to shift right this fucking second. I push him back.
Pluto stalks right up to me, his feet clapping against the mat. I can smell his sweat and his fury, which is not a good combination.
“I mean,” he says in a low voice as he stops right in front of me, “that this beta elite crap is bullshit. You’re just a fucking beta with an identity crisis.”
“What the fuck you mean it’s bullshit? We’ve been working on this for days—”
“I mean, that it’s fake. Getting blown up caused your stupid ass wolf to have a panic attack or some such bullshit. And I’m here dealing with the fallout so that you don’t become a lone wolf and get yourself killed in two seconds.” His anger grows, and so does his pitch, until he’s shouting right into my face. “Because for some idiotic reason, our pack alpha doesn’t want you dead. Even though I think it would make his life a hell of a lot easier.”
He might as well have kicked me in the head. I reel back, my thoughts dizzy. I think my brain might be bruised from all the crap he just threw at me. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to think.
Is he right?
I stare up at him, and I don’t see the patient guy who’s been trying to work with me for the past four days. I see an angry alpha with eyes rimmed in gold, his nostrils flaring as he tries to keep his temper in check.
I speak slowly and softly as I try to process what this means. I have a sinking feeling that it means I’m broken beyond repair. “So, you’re saying there is no such thing as the beta elite?”
“Nope. It’s a goddamned kid’s story.”
“So what the fuck are we doing here?”
“I’ve been biding my time.”
“For what?”
“Waiting for you to realize that you don’t belong.”
I barely keep my jaw from dropping. Just barely. My stomach, though, hits the floor hard.
“That’s what you think?”
“That’s what I know. Black doesn’t need any more shit. And you’re just another problem.”
I swallow, and my eyes drift down to his feet out of habit as I listen to him.
“Your wolf isn’t complying. And you’re competition for his mate.”
“He doesn’t seem to have a problem with that.” I offer the only defense I’ve got. Pluto’s fucking right about my wolf. But Black seems to have accepted that Elena and I are important to one another. I thought that problem was solved. Has he been telling Pluto differently? I look up.
Pluto’s sneer cracks my belief like it’s an egg. “He might not. But what about the pack? What the fuck do you think is going to happen when people find out about this little arrangement?”
I feel like a fucking cartoon character. One of the idiotic ones in the old-school black-and-white films that gets a piano dropped on his head. I thought they knew. I thought everyone knew what was going on.
But if they don’t … and Thomas Stone is challenging Black’s ability to keep everyone safe … and people think a lowly beta is challenging him for his mate … what will happen to him? If something happens to him, what will happen to Elena?
