Claiming Shayla, Book 6

by Zena Wynn

  He could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she considered his words. He went on. “Think of how Alex is with Kiesha, Hugh with Mary Elizabeth, even the vampire with my sister. Do you honestly think I could do or be anything less with you?”

  Shay sighed as she rolled her eyes. Finally she said, “You’re right. You do what you do, and I’ll handle the rest.”

  He cupped her jaw. “As stated, there’ll be some friction at first. A period of testing and adjustment because I’ve been without a mate for so long, and because I’ve made known my intentions never to take one. You and the babe will be a shock, but they’ll get over it and if they don’t, they’ll deal with me.”

  She considered his words. “What about the enemy within?”

  Her words threw him. “What enemy?”

  “Your enemies,” she clarified, her gaze intent.

  Her expression indicated there was some bit of knowledge she wasn’t sharing with him. He wanted to ask, to push. Instead he decided to bide his time. Build trust between them and the rest would come.

  “Everyone has enemies, and every pack has dissenters. If I’m not powerful enough to hold the pack and protect what’s mine, then I don’t deserve either one of you.”

  Eyes narrowed, Shay pointed a finger at him and commanded, “Watch your ass.”

  “Yours and mine, always.” Rory patted the body part in question. Though she smiled, she still seemed worried.

  Part of him was offended. “Shay, I’ve been alpha more than eight years. You think someone handed me the position? I had to kill for it, my own father, and while I was still tired from the battle, had to take on five others who thought they were the better wolf for the job. In the years since, I’ve proven by combat and by wits that I’m more than tough enough, powerful enough to hold it.”

  Rory rolled away from her, intending to get out of bed and put space between them. How dare his own mate doubt his abilities? How dare she think him too weak, too feebleminded to protect her and their babe?

  “Rory…” Shay laid a hand on his arm. He shook it off and made to rise. Suddenly her arms were around his neck as she gripped him in a headlock.

  “Oh no you don’t!”

  “What the bloody hell is wrong with you?” He pulled on her forearm. In response she tightened her grip to near strangling and wrapped her legs around his waist.

  “You’re not going anywhere until we finish discussing this like rational adults. Well, I’ll be rational. You try not to be so hardheaded.”

  “I’m done with this subject,” he grunted, still trying to pry her loose.

  “I’m not.” She bit his ear—hard. “Think, damn it. Shove your ego to the side. Do you think I’d be here with you in the midst of a bunch of freaking werewolves who want my blood if I thought you couldn’t keep me safe? Hell, Rory, you fought off two horny wolves for me, or don’t you remember? You think I’d have been screaming your name at the top of my lungs if I hadn’t believed you’d do otherwise? And that’s when I thought we hated each other’s guts.”

  The reminder of that night, the first night of the blue moon, calmed him. “Then what’s this about?”

  “Conor.”

  He stiffened and dropped his hands to his sides as the lightbulb in his head clicked on. Looking straight ahead, his tone neutral, he asked, “Are you ready to tell me now what the seer said?”

  Shay was quiet. Through the link, he could feel the war going on inside of her as she debated whether or not to trust him with the truth. Tell me, baby.”

  She released her hold, and the mattress shifted as she retreated, putting space between them. Rory turned and caught her by the wrist. “Trust, Shay. That’s what relationships are built on.”

  She tilted her head to the side, her gaze bouncing between his hold on her wrist and his eyes. He knew the minute she dropped her guard. Felt it deep within as their mate bond strengthened.

  “Don’t get crazy,” she warned.

  “I won’t,” he promised.

  “I’m serious.”

  “I know.”

  She narrowed her eyes in stern warning. “You blow up at me, and I’m going to be pissed.”

  “Shay…”

  “Oh, all right,” she said with a sigh. “I’m paraphrasing, but Conor said for me to be careful. That I’d be surrounded by treachery and that my safety and the safety of our daughters depended on you and I working together to defeat the enemy.”

  Rory stared, unable to believe he’d heard right. Then what she said sank in.

  UNDERNEATH HER BREATH, Shayla counted down. “Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three—”

  Rory surged to his feet, and the words that came out of his mouth had even her flinching. He paced across the room and back. It was more of a prowl, that of a caged predator. Suddenly he spun and pinned her with a glare. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

  “You’ve already tried to send me away once for my protection.”

  He visibly winced before shutting his eyes. Rory pinched the bridge of his nose and took a couple of deep breaths. “Shay, that was completely different.”

  “Uh-huh.” She made certain he saw the skepticism in her facial expression.

  He stared a moment, shook his head, then resumed pacing. A thought must have struck, for he paused midstep before turning to face her. “That’s why you refused the pack’s midwife.”

  “Yes.”

  “And why you were suspicious of Ashley,” he continued.

  “No.”

  “What do you mean, no?”

  “I already told you my reasons for disliking the…” Biting back the word she wanted to used, she finished with, “skank.”

  He waved the Ashley issue away. “You said Conor told you not to trust anyone in the pack?”

  Shay shook her head. “I told you I was paraphrasing. His actual words were, ‘You must fight to hold on to what is yours. Treachery surrounds you. Only by uniting together will you be victorious. Show no mercy. Your daughters’ safety depends on the decisions you make now.’” She left out the part about Rory loving her totally and completely, just the way she was. It wasn’t pertinent to their current conversation, and Conor had proven to be right about Rory loving her.

  Rory let loose with another string of words. And she thought she knew how to curse. Compared to him, she was a naive amateur. She waited for him to settle down. When he quieted, she told him, “You can’t talk like that once the baby gets here. She’ll have a potty mouth.”

  Nonplussed, he stared at her.

  “Besides you promised not to blow up.” She pointed at him. “You, Mount Saint Helens, just erupted all over the place.”

  “You can’t tell me my family’s in danger and not expect me to react!”

  Shay arched an eyebrow and waited for him to calm. He looked like he wanted to hurt someone. Then he eyed the wall. “You punch a hole in that wall and you’ll have to fix it…tonight.”

  The look he shot her should have singed the hair on her head. He paced in short, angry strides, back and forth. Shay placed some pillows behind her back and propped against the headboard, ready to wait him out.

  After about five minutes of muttering and movement, he stopped with his back to her and clutched two handfuls of hair. Good thing he was a werewolf. If he kept pulling like that, he’d go bald. Finally he came and sat on the bed beside her.

  “I don’t know if I completely buy into all this mumbo jumbo stuff—”

  “You mean like werewolves and vampires being real?” Shay murmured wryly.

  “But…he’s right about one thing. We’re a unit. Two halves of a whole. For this…us…to work, we have to learn to trust each other. And we can’t keep secrets,” he stated with a pointed stare.

  She met his gaze with a bland expression, knowing she damn well would continue to determine when and what to share with him. An open book she wasn’t, and neither was he.

  Before the silence could drag out too long, she asked, “So what’s th
e plan?”

  When he didn’t say anything, she added, “You do have a plan, don’t you? We only have five months to figure this shit out or some folks are going to start dying. I will not have my children threatened.”

  Rory seemed to come to some inner decision. The lethal smile that crept into the open boded ill to whomever it was aimed toward. Anyone else viewing it would have been chilled. “I’ll handle it,” he said. His tone was equally deadly.

  Shay felt the pulse of temper tattoo a beat in her left temple. “You mean we’ll handle it, right? Mr. We’re a Unit, Two Halves of a Whole?”

  He scowled. “No, I don’t. This half of our unit knows where the threat lies, so I’ll take care of it. No need to involve you and the babe.”

  “Excuse me, but the word ‘treachery’ implies that you don’t know who the enemy or enemies are. You only think you do,” she snapped.

  He leaned forward and planted his hands on either side of her hips. “I know my pack. I not only rule them, I live and grew up with them. I know who’s the most likely to want to do you harm.” His hazel eyes bled to gold, and a hint of fang showed in his mouth.

  “And if you’re wrong?”

  “I’m not!”

  “But if you are? This is my life you’re talking about.”

  “Wrong! It’s our lives because you are my life,” he roared as he shot to his feet.

  Talk about taking the wind out of someone’s sails. His words weren’t flowery, but they were heartfelt and knocked the building anger right out of her. She no longer felt like arguing. Besides, Conor had said the decisions she made would be the determining factor.

  “You’re right.” Her tone was so calm, so reasonable it had him observing her suspiciously. Probably waiting for the catch. “Your child and I are hungry. Feed us.”

  Without waiting for him to react, Shay rose and went to one of the dressers, pulling out a pair of shorts and a tank. She still smelled like sex and Rory, but the scents appealed so she dressed without washing. She turned to find him still standing there.

  “Food,” she prompted and, as her gaze fell on the discarded luggage, added, “and do something with those.”

  Muttering something about pregnancy, mood swings, and incomprehensible women, Rory snagged his pants from the floor, donned them, and then snatched up her suitcases.

  “The small one fits inside the larger for storage,” she told him.

  From the doorway he glanced over his shoulder at her and snarled, “I’m not a bleeding idiot!” before leaving the room.

  Patting her still-flat stomach, Shay told her child, “Your daddy’s pissed with me. Let’s give him a little time to calm.”

  She remade the bed and rearranged the items on the dressers. Then went into the bathroom and straightened the medicine cabinets. While she worked, she went back to her earlier line of thought.

  The decision she’d made. Hmm…

  What she’d told Rory was correct. She did trust him to protect her from any and all threats of which he was aware. The problem was Rory had a huge blind spot when it came to his pack.

  In this area she had an advantage. Sort of. Since she didn’t know the people, she could be more objective. Of course, her unfamiliarity with the pack was also a huge drawback. How did she distinguish between normal and suspicious? Maybe this was why Conor said it would take both of them. Rory’s knowledge coupled with her objectivity.

  The smell of marinara sauce drifted into the bedroom. Dinner was almost done.

  Sighing, she gave the thoughts circling in her head a break and went down to join her mate. “Can I help with anything?” she asked as she entered the kitchen.

  “No, I have it.” His tone was brisk but not angry. The space from each other had helped, as she’d hoped it would.

  Rory gestured her to the table. He served up the spaghetti, then joined her. “Let me know if the tomato sauce gives you a problem. Some pregnant women find it too acidic.”

  Shay poked at a piece of ground beef with her fork. “You have so much meat in this, I doubt it will be an issue.”

  He grunted in reply. A comfortable silence settled as they ate.

  After the worst of her hunger was sated—she hadn’t lied about being hungry—Shay waved her fork at Rory. “Tell me more about the Sparrowhawks. Who are the major players and what do you think of them?”

  The fork paused halfway to his mouth as he looked at her. “Why?”

  She chopped up a few more noodles as she answered. “Because I’ll be meeting them—” She broke off as she remembered Rory said he was calling the pack together but didn’t say when. “When exactly are we having this little shindig?”

  “Tomorrow night.”

  “Tomorrow?” Her eating utensil clattered onto the table. “Why so soon?”

  “This is a small town, a small pack. Word travels quickly. I wanted to have you to myself for a few days before having to share you with the others. That won’t be possible now that members of the pack know about you. Better to take control and make an official announcement.”

  Shay rubbed wearily at her forehead. “All the more reason for you to give me an idea what to expect.”

  Rory nudged her fork closer and motioned for her to continue eating. He waited until she’d eaten another mouthful to respond. “Wouldn’t you like to form your own opinions of them?”

  Shay held up a finger until she’d swallowed. “I will, but forewarned is forearmed.”

  “Makes sense. Something I’d do myself.” He rose, went to the refrigerator, and pulled out a gallon of milk.

  “If that’s for me, I’m not drinking milk with tomato sauce.”

  Rory ducked inside and came out with a bottle of apple juice instead.

  “Don’t you have any punch, lemonade, soda? Anything with sugar?” she demanded.

  “This is better for you.” He poured her a glass of the juice, grabbed a bottled water for himself, and returned to the table. “Where do you want to start?”

  She motioned with the fork. “Who takes over if you’re”—she searched for and discarded several words before settling on—“incapacitated?”

  He arched a brow. “It’s not that simple. There’d be fights to see who’d take control of the pack if I’m no longer able to lead.”

  Shay thought for a moment. “Your second—what’s his name?—he wouldn’t automatically step into the gap?”

  “Caleb Jones,” he supplied.

  “The dude with the dreads?”

  He nodded. “In the short term, as second he could act on my behalf.”

  “And who’s his backup?”

  Rory frowned. “MacDougal, my third.”

  He didn’t seem to like this MacDougal guy too much. The tone he used when he said Caleb’s and MacDougal’s names was totally different. “Ranks are based on strength, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “So who’s after this Mac guy?’”

  “If we’re speaking pecking order based solely on strength, next would be Wesley. He’s one of the council. A strong beta, but brash and impulsive. His wolf is powerful but unseasoned in combat.”

  “Is he one of the shifters you fought when you assumed leadership?”

  Something flashed on his face. “No.”

  Hmm, something there. Something Rory didn’t want to talk about. “You said there were five contenders,” she probed. “If Wesley wasn’t one of them, then who?”

  Rory looked over her shoulder. “MacDougal.” The response was clipped.

  When he fell silent, Shay pushed a little harder, aware she was treading on dangerous ground. “Caleb too?”

  He shook his head. “No. He’s never wanted to be alpha.”

  It was obvious he didn’t want to talk about it. Should she let it go? Shay wanted to. She could literally feel his agitation, his internal distress. But what if one of these guys hadn’t let go of the desire to be alpha? What if they were going about it in a subtler, more treacherous way? She couldn’t take that chance.
/>   “And the others?”

  “Dead,” he stated flatly.

  Shay felt her eyes bulge, and her mouth dropped open. “You killed…?”

  Rory lifted his head, and she trailed off. His eyes were pure gold. But what got her was the pain in them. “Aye. I killed five men that night. Four of whom their only crime was wanting to improve their status within the pack. My first official act as alpha was to ban dominance fights to the death.”

  “Shannon said your father forced you to kill him,” she stated slowly.

  “He set the terms of the battle, yes. To the death. No surrender.”

  Shay placed her hand on top of his fisted one where it rested on the table. “I’m sure, if there’d been any other way, you would have taken it.”

  Rory gazed at his hands, flexed them a few times before holding them up. “There’s blood on these.”

  “Did they give you a choice?” she asked quietly. “Any of them?”

  He swallowed hard, then placed his hands under the table, out of view. “No.” When he looked at her again, his eyes were bleak. “My mother called me a murderer. Screamed it at me.”

  Shay felt such rage it was a good thing the woman was already dead. Shay would have killed her otherwise. “She was wrong,” she bit out. She wanted to curse, but more importantly, Shay wanted to soothe her hurting mate.

  “I could have walked away.”

  “Could you, really? And leave the pack you grew up expecting to lead to someone else? And Shannon—don’t alphas typically mate the strongest female? Could you have left your sister unprotected?” Shay knew the answer. Rory knew, but he hadn’t accepted it yet.

  “No.” It came out strangled.

  “Then you had no choice. Are you going to eat that?”

  Rory frowned at his half-full plate. “I’m no longer hungry.”

  Shay rose and gathered both their plates. “Where’s the foil?”

  He grabbed her wrist and held it so that her plate lowered to the table. “You need to eat to keep up your strength.”

  “I’ve had enough. I ate more than you.” She tugged free and placed the leftovers on the countertop, then hunted in the pantry until she found what she was looking for. After putting the food away, she took a dish towel, moistened it, and wiped down the stove and table.