With a shudder, I let the tears come. He holds me and kisses along my shoulder blades as I relax, slipping off into a troubled, exhausted sleep.
WHEN I WAKE, MIKE IS with me and Clay is gone.
I have no idea how much time has gone by. I sleep for long stretches now that I’m pregnant, my body taking rest whenever it can, and sometimes nights slip by without my noticing and I wake to a new day without even realizing it. I’ve mostly given up on trying to keep track. Zoe is keeping the calendar of my pregnancy for me. I don’t need to do anything but protect these babies and help them grow.
Mike’s fingers trace up and down my inner thigh, and I’m only slightly surprised to realize that I’m already aroused again. I give his hand a squeeze between my legs and he takes the cue and slides his fingers higher.
“Morning, sunshine,” he teases as he strokes me.
“Mmm — is it?” I don’t care.
He chuckles. “You’ve been asleep for a while.”
I don’t care. I roll my hips against his hand, seeking more contact, trying to increase the pace, and Mike obliges. Mike always obliges. It’s one of the best things about him. He’s so intuitive about what I want, what I need, and he always gives it to me right away.
He rolls me onto my back and sits back on his heels to take me in. “You’re so hot like this,” he says, pupils dilated, skin glossy with sweat, and I glance down and realize he’s just as turned on as I am. The sight of him makes me ache with need.
Careful not to put any weight on me, he leans over to kiss me. Slowly, he makes his way down my neck, across my collarbone, and down the line of my sternum, making me gasp. He moves to my breast, kissing, sucking, and I positively writhe beneath him.
“Mike,” I moan. “Now. Please.”
He enters me with his mouth still latched on my nipple. His tongue is magic, and just as I think I’m about to lose my mind, he switches from right to left. I can’t help it. I cry out.
Mike silences me with a kiss and I come, arching my body to meet his, shuddering.
But he’s not done yet. I’m completely spent, lying limp on my pile of blankets, and he’s still going. Watching his face contort into expressions of shock and pleasure, it doesn’t take long for my body to wake up again, and by the time Mike comes, I’m right on the edge myself.
He knows, of course. He always knows. With a wicked grin, he lowers himself between my legs and sets that tongue to work. It takes less than a minute. I wrap my hands around the back of his head and pull his face against me as I come for the second time, sobbing with ecstasy.
He gets up — I’m too worn out to care that he’s leaving or wonder where he’s going — but he returns quickly with a bottle of sports drink in hand. “Electrolytes,” he says solemnly. “Can’t have you and those babies getting dehydrated.”
I take the drink. “You take such good care of me,” I murmur, nestling into his warmth.
“Of course,” he says. “You’re my mate.”
I’m Bruno’s mate too. But that doesn’t seem to matter. I won’t take any of them for granted.
I was so thankful to Zoe for not telling them I was pregnant. I assumed she would have, and that that might even be why they decided to come after me. There was something wonderful about realizing they came without even knowing their babies were at risk. It was just for my sake. I felt truly loved in that moment, by everyone in the pack, and Bruno most of all. He’s the one who makes the decisions. If he’d said no, nobody would have come. Because he said yes, everyone did.
But the way he looked at me when I confessed my pregnancy shocked me. It was as if it was the worst news he’d ever heard. Mike let out a celebratory whoop, and Clay pulled me into an embrace, and Greg and Robbie lined up for hugs of their own, and that night we all ate twice the usual amount of fish in a celebratory feast. But Bruno was distant throughout it all, and since that day he’s hardly spoken to me.
And it’s awful. It’s not just the loss of one of my best friends and mates, although that part is excruciating. But there’s also the fact that my body is craving him. Clay and Mike aren’t enough to keep me satisfied, not now. Every time Bruno passes within five feet of me, I want to jump on him or rip off my clothes. It’s a constant, painful struggle.
I have no idea what’s wrong with him. I wish he would tell me. But every day he gets up without looking at me. Every day he avoids me. And every day is one day closer to the arrival of his children, who deserve so much better from their parents than this awkward, stilted attempt at coexistence.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
BRUNO
At six months pregnant, Lane is too big to ride on a motorcycle, and I’m not comfortable with her shifting and walking long distances either. So, when the time comes for the pack to leave the woods at last, a different mode of transportation is necessary.
Which is how I find myself at a used car dealership, signing the paperwork for the keys to an SUV that’s definitely seen better days.
I can’t stand the thing. I belong on a bike, and as I drive down the highway to where my pack awaits me, I feel foolish. I’ve driven cars before, but not with any great frequency. This thing feels as big as a house around me. I know we’re going to need it, especially once the babies come, but hopefully I won’t have to spend too much time in it.
At this point, my savings are pretty much cleaned out. I was hoping to send some money back to Emily — I hate to think of her in Harlan’s house, unable to get away from him — but that’ll have to wait until I have a regular income. For now, it’s all I can do to provide for my own pack, and that’s going to have to be enough. I’m the alpha. They’re my responsibility.
I can’t believe I resisted my position as alpha. It’s as natural as breathing to me now. It’s not about giving orders and having them followed, and the fact that I ever thought it was proves how green I used to be. It’s about keeping them safe and making sure they’re provided for. It’s about giving them the best life possible. Every time I start to feel nervous about my impending fatherhood, I remember that I’m already the alpha of this pack. Babies will definitely be different, but I’m not new to having someone’s wellbeing in my hands.
Mike is waiting by the side of the road when I pull up, and he hoots at the sight of the car. “Taking us to soccer, are you?”
“Shut up.” I slam the door. “You know I had to get something big enough for everyone.”
“Hey, I’m just glad I get to take my bike,” he says. “I don’t envy you, driving this monstrosity. I bet it handles like a pile of bricks.”
“Pretty much. Is everyone ready to go?”
“They’re on their way. I came ahead.”
“You took down the shelter, like I asked?”
“And burned what we could,” Mike says.
“Good.” I don’t want anyone coming upon the site and picking up our scent. Especially not Lane’s. Hopefully they’ve destroyed what we left behind in a way that doesn’t make it too obvious that someone was staying there for the past several months.
The others emerge from the woods led by Greg. He’s proven himself to be a capable second to me, able to lead the pack in my absence, and I think it probably has something to do with his experience as a father. I may be the alpha around here, but it’s nice to have someone to look up to all the same. I never had a father — not in any real sense of the word, I mean — so it helps me to see someone who’s done a good job raising his children, teaching them how to be strong, and preparing them for the world. I hope I can be like him. I’m glad he’s going to be around while my kids are growing up, to help guide them.
Clay is at the back of the pack, supporting Lane. Her back has been hurting lately — one of the earliest signs to me that it was time to get us all out of here and stop sleeping on the ground. Seeing her is agonizing. The way she leans on Clay, smiling up at him, the way her body is swelling to accommodate the babies — she’s beautiful, and I ache for her every day.
But I’m
angry at her too, and I can’t forget it. God, I wish I could forget it. I wish I could set it aside and let things go back to normal. But every time I think about what happened in Montreal, my whole body tenses and I feel the need to go run some laps.
I’ll get over it. She’s the mother of my children. One of these days, I’ll have to get over it.
“Everyone in the car,” I say, and even make it a point to touch Lane’s shoulder as Clay helps her to her seat. She looks up at me, eyes wide, and I can no longer deceive myself into thinking that maybe she’s been so distracted by her pregnancy that she hasn’t noticed me keeping my distance. It was a ridiculous thought anyway. Of course, she’s noticed. She’s much too smart to have missed something like that.
Clay leans in to kiss her goodbye and steps back toward the tree line, where Mike and Zoe are waiting. The three of them will be bringing the bikes, probably riding well ahead of us. I’m sure this car can’t keep pace with our bikes. I shake my head at it again and climb into the driver’s seat. “Everyone got everything?” I call back to my passengers.
“All packed,” Greg says.
“You guys don’t want to go get one more trout dinner before we leave?” Robbie asks.
In the rearview mirror, I see Lane swat at his arm. “I’m never eating fish again as long as I live.”
“Yeah, time to introduce those babies to a broader cuisine,” Robbie says. “I bet you didn’t know I could cook.”
“Never once have I seen you cook,” she says as I start the car and pull out onto the road.
“You’ve never seen me in a kitchen,” he points out. “None of that campfire garbage. I’m talking about real cooking.”
“I notice you weren’t too highbrow to eat that campfire garbage, though,” she laughs. God, I miss her laugh. She used to laugh with me all the time.
I won’t miss living off the grid, I think to myself as we pick up speed on the highway. I won’t miss having to fight for every meal or the nights when it rained and water leaked through the roof of our little shelter. I won’t miss how unsafe it felt to be exposed all the time.
But I’ll miss the forest. The sounds and the smells that surrounded us, day in and day out. Nights by the campfire with fish crackling as it cooked, and picking it off the bone to eat. The stars at night, brighter than any I’ve ever seen in the city. And the way my animal side rose within me and lurked close to the surface, ready to take over at any moment, ready to run through the trees and splash into the cold water and be more bear than I could ever be when I lived in the city. It’s been an experience like nothing I could have imagined, and I’m sure I’ll never have anything quite like it again.
IT’S THANKS TO GARY that we have this house on the very edge of Quebec City. Even with all the money I’ve saved up over my life, I could never have afforded a down payment. The house is small, barely big enough for a family of four, but we’ve been living in a shelter that barely sleeps all of us, so this is actually a huge step up.
I park in the driveway and lead the others inside. The motorcycles are already lined up against the garage, so I can see that Zoe, Clay, and Mike have beaten us here. Sure enough, when we open the front door, we find them with beers in hand, lounging on the floor of the unfurnished living room.
Zoe sits up as we enter. “This place only has three bedrooms,” she says.
Of course, she would lead off with a complaint. “Get a job if you want to buy someplace bigger,” I tell her. “This is what we could afford.” Personally, I love it. It’ll keep us all close. Harlan’s house was too big. Someone was always wandering off, and I never knew where everyone was at once. As an alpha, I know that would drive me crazy. I need to know where they are.
Not knowing where everyone was at Harlan’s almost ruined everything.
“You’ll be in the master bedroom,” I tell Zoe.
Her eyes light up. “I get the master?”
“You share it,” I say. “With me. And Robbie, Clay, and Mike.”
Her face falls. “What the hell, Bruno.”
“Greg, are you good with the small room at the end of the hall?” I ask him.
“Sure,” he says easily. Greg and I have already been here once, just the two of us, so he knows the room. I want him to have his own space as a sign of respect. Just because I’m the alpha here doesn’t mean I can’t acknowledge my elders.
Zoe has no such inclinations. She huffs. “I should get a room to myself,” she says. “I’m a girl.”
“Oh, come on,” Mike says, grinning. “You don’t want to sleep in the pile?”
She scowls at him, but I can see a smile trying to make its way onto her face. She does want to sleep in the pile. Of course, she does. Zoe lives closer to her animal side than any of us.
“The middle room will be the nursery,” I say. “For the babies, and for Lane while she’s pregnant and after they’re first born.” I lock eyes with her. “Okay?”
She nods mutely. I know she’s picking up the distance in my tone, and for a moment I want to forget everything and run to her. I want to take her into my arms and tell her I’m wrong, wrong to be angry, wrong to hold onto my anger for so long. I want to tell her I should have talked to her months ago, the very first night, instead of letting my feelings fester all this time.
But I can’t. My initial anger is an infected sore now. I’ve let it go too long. It’s too big. I can’t just tell her I’m sorry and expect it to be all right.
I have no idea what I’m going to do.
I LIKE THE SIZE OF the house, but the trouble is that there’s nowhere to go for me to be alone. Except for outside, that is.
There’s a tree that grows a few feet away, sturdy and tall, and I’ve used it to climb onto the roof. Flat on my back, I know I can’t be seen from the ground, and that no one will find me here unless they also think to climb the tree. My odds of remaining undiscovered are good.
Up here, I can think about Lane without running the risk of her walking in.
I still love her. I’ve never stopped loving her for a moment. And I’m so tired of this rift, which I know I caused. I know Lane never meant to hurt me.
But in Montreal, when she stepped forward and offered herself up for Robbie’s release, she destroyed me.
I told myself in the moment that she had every right to do it. It was her own life. She reminded me herself that I’d always told her she would be free to go at any time, and as much as it stabbed me in the heart to have my words used against me that way, she was right. If she chose to spend her life on saving Robbie, I had no right to be angry.
And yet I was angry. I care for Robbie, and I’d do almost anything to protect him as a part of my pack. But Lane...I’m in love with Lane. Lane is worth more.
How could I feel that way? It was awful. It was unforgivable for an alpha to consider one of his packmates more expendable than another. The whole way home, I berated myself for my gut instinct that Lane’s self-sacrifice was too much to accept.
And then we arrived at the campsite and she told us she was pregnant.
It was the perfect excuse. Of course, she was more valuable to me. She was carrying my children, and the children of two of my packmates! I must have sensed it! That’s why I couldn’t let her go. That’s why I valued her life over Robbie’s. It was for the sake of the children.
But as I lie here, I know I’m lying to myself. I’ve known it for months. I didn’t intuit that Lane was pregnant. I had no idea. I just wanted her safe because I’m in love with her, and I haven’t been able to cope with the fact that I almost lost her. And none of that is her fault. It’s mine. I’m the one I need to forgive.
I just don’t know if I can.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
BRUNO
Sometime after midnight, I swallow my pride and knock on her door.
I’m so used to seeing her in the same few outfits — shirts that stretch to cover her belly, pants borrowed from Mike or Robbie to accommodate her new waistline. But she’s in a nig
htdress I’ve never seen before, pale blue and sleeveless, fitted at the top and belling out into a skirt that ends at her upper thighs. Immediately, everything I wanted to say falls right out of my head, and all I can think about is how beautiful she looks.
She’s cautious with me, waiting for me to speak first, and it occurs to me that this is prey behavior. I know Lane isn’t afraid of me physically, but I’ve given her reason to fear losing my love. The thought sickens me.
“Can I come in?” I ask.
She steps back, allowing it.
I don’t want to sit on her bed without being invited, so I settle in the rocking chair. Lane’s room is the only one in the house we’ve furnished, since nobody wanted her sleeping on the floor. We don’t know how many bassinets we’re going to need, but we bought three cribs and a changing table, and this rocker, of course. It’s the most comfortable place I’ve had to sit in months.
Lane settles on the bed, still waiting for me to break the silence.
“Where did you get the nightgown?” I ask. God, I sound so awkward. I had more composure than this the first day I met her.
“Zoe,” she says. “She took me shopping for maternity clothes while everyone else was looking at furniture.”
“So, you’ll actually have something to wear now.” I nod. “That’s good.”
“Yeah.”
I rub my palms on the thighs of my jeans. I’m sweating. I’m nervous. I have no idea how to say what I need to say to her. What could possibly make my behavior over the past several months all right?
“You’ve been angry with me,” she says quietly.
I shake my head. I understand myself better now. I know my responses haven’t been her fault. “No. I’ve been stupid. You’re not responsible for that.”
“I don’t know what happened.” She has tears in her eyes, but she’s not letting them fall. “Everything was perfect between us, I thought. And then you found out I was pregnant, and... were you disappointed? Everything changed after that.”
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