Page 24 of Sinful Shifters

Thale clears his throat. "The Mountain Pack needs an alpha one way or another, and I'm glad to step in, if it means keeping the wellspring out of someone else's hands. But there are four connected packs in this region, and four of us here. How—"

"We're not going to kill the other alphas," I tell them, injecting more confidence into my voice than I feel. "If we explain things to them, maybe they'll step down. If they won't, we can try to get their packs to rebel. Or... figure something out, something with magic. But I don't want to see another alpha needlessly die."

Especially since I still have Morgan's blood on me, staining my clothes and drying beneath my fingernails. It won't matter how much I wash up or how many times I change my outfit—the expression on his face as he was brutally slaughtered will stay with me forever.

"I don't want blood on my hands," I tell the guys, my voice softening. "If you can't accept that, tell me now, so I can walk away."

"We won't kill anyone, Darling." Lucian brushes my face with his hand. "I promise you. Right, everyone?"

"Absolutely not," Thale swears, while Everett nods and grumbles, "On my life and on the ocean's waves, I swear."

My sweet, fiery Adar lifts his chin to me, his eyes ablaze with determination. "I will not kill the Fury Pack's alpha. There will be no more blood on your hands, I swear."

Looking down at my rusty, red fingernails, I feel the bitter press of relief.

Seeming to realize I'm in need of a cleaning, Everett offers, "I can clean those stains off."

"I'd love that."

I gladly let him wash me with the caress of his warm water, followed by a warm dry from Lucian and Adar. As heated air sleeks down my hair into a perfect sheen, I realize that I could get used to this.

It feels nice to be taken care of completely.

And the flirty touch of the water between my thighs, the brush of hot air against my skin, makes me hungry for something else. Noticing my shivering, Everett steps up to me and asks me possessively, " What did he do to you?"

I swallow, thinking of how close I came to being like that omega in Teller's vision. How easy it would've been for him to overpower me and hurt me.

"We can talk about it later," I tell him, feeling the press of the pack's need, its hunger for a leader. "Right now, we've got to take care of things."

"I will follow up on that, Sweet Thing." He kisses the top of my head and holds me protectively. "Good omegas tell their alphas what's going on with them, so they can be taken care of and protected."

"I'll tell you. I promise." Hesitating, I add, "It didn't go all the way. Close, but... not that far."

"Good. Though he will pay for what he did, and then some."

He will pay. At my hands, he will pay, and I will never be afraid like that again.

Thale clears his throat and motions for us to follow him.

Stepping out of the ruins of the mansion, we discover much of the pack is already gathered here and waiting. Some of the warriors have gathered Morgan's body and covered it with a white sheet. The witches are helping them build a pyre underneath him. Once burned, his ashes will go to the Elder Tombs.

Though Cassandra says, "We need to locate Morgan's key to the tombs, since he seems to have misplaced it."

Remembering Adar slipping the key away from him, I look over at him sideways, but his face reveals nothing.

My mother Talon is here, and she rushes to me and hugs me tight when she sees me. "I'm so glad you're alright, my little Rina."

"How is Ali?"

"Harry is with her. She's okay, I swear." Stepping back, she looks into my eyes with tears glimmering in hers. "I'll have to go home soon to help take care of her, but I had to see you first and make sure you're okay."

"I appreciate that," I tell her, squeezing her hand. "I'm glad you're okay, too."

Maybe we can fix our relationship. Maybe she'll even tell me who my father is, instead of playing coy. I dare to hope.

There are others here I recognize. Farrah and the others from the bonfire. Laila Canyon, Morgan's mate, who's silent for once. Countless warriors look to us—to me, and to Thale, and the other gods. One elder steps forward to ask the question on all our minds, "Now what?"

Thale steps up to the plate. "Now the Mountain Pack mourns the loss of its leader, Morgan Hawthorne. We tend to our wounded and bury our dead. The coven shores up our magical defenses, and the pack renews its bonds to the earth and to each other."

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