Alpha's Strength (Fallen Alpha) (14 page)

If only he could believe her words. But she forgave him for too much. He’d wanted the young females happier. Lake was so dissatisfied with her life. Ruth always seemed pissed. He could go through the list. Letting them go blow off some steam had seemed a good option. So he’d pretended not to know, hadn’t interfered more than making sure Jensen went every time, and now a worst-case scenario, the kind that haunted his dreams, had happened

He’d gotten weak. It couldn’t happen again.

“Cyrus, look at me.”

He raised his eyes.

“This isn’t on you. You’re in charge, but as with any person in a position of power, sometimes bad things happen, and sometimes things we can’t possibly control take place. Cars crash. Boats sink. People disappear. Crazy, knife-wielding werewolf haters come into bars…”

He nuzzled into her neck and closed his eyes. Being pressed up against her had lowered his heart rate. “I have to perform Kyra’s goodbye ceremony tomorrow. We try to not let more than one night pass between death and the speaking of the words. We’ll go to Montana afterward.”

“What happens at the funeral?” She closed her eyes, and he could feel the exhaustion pouring out of her scent. The vanilla odor he loved so much had ebbed to a dull scent.

“I give her back to the moon.” And he felt like a complete fraud doing it, considering he thought the whole thing bullshit.

“That’s nice. I like the idea of you doing that. There’s no one better suited for it than you.”

In that way, Betsy had completely misunderstood him. But, then again, he’d let her, having told her the whole Lily and the three werewolves fairy tale as if it were something he bought into. There was no reason to change undo her belief. Like the rest of the pack, she could think he believed if it kept them all feeling better. Travis believed. Alexei probably did too. Lucian had.

There was something wrong with him that he couldn’t believe himself.

“Come on.” He picked her up in his arms. His mate needed to rest, and he had to figure out how to burn off the energy that wouldn’t leave him before the moon ceremony.

Cyrus placed her gently on the bed, and she opened her lids to stare up at him. She extended her arms. “Come on.”

“I don’t think I can lie down yet. I promise to try not to conk out on my desk, but I can’t lie down and rest.”

She shook her head. “Who said anything about resting?”

Her words sank in, and his cock took note, jerking in his pants. “You can’t possibly have the energy.”

“Not for what we did last night, no. But a quick, sweet coupling with you? That I can do. Anytime. And I want you now. I need you. Please. Make me feel alive. Make this day go away. Let me do the same for you.”

He walked to the bed and then pushed her down beneath him as he kissed her lips. She tasted sweet, tempting, and completely alive. Betsy kissed him back with total abandon, a soft moan releasing from her throat.

Cyrus stroked down her body, starting with her neck and moving downward. She squirmed beneath him. She’d said she wanted quick, but he didn’t want to be ridiculous about it. Every time he looked at her, he got hard. It would be no problem to push inside of her and drive away the day in her willing arms. But, first, Betsy had to come.

They fumbled and tugged at each other’s clothes. Eventually they were all discarded. He stared down at her. She was so small beneath him, so delicate, and yet he knew now that she was also made of steel. Betsy possessed a shifting power not one in a million wolves could do. Untrained, and still not having gone through her first full moon, she had killed a woman who threatened them. His mate was…breathtaking. And beautiful.

“You’re looking at me like you’ve never seen me before.”

“Every time I see you, it’s like the first time, like I have new eyes. Does that sound corny?” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so…whatever this is.”

Her eyes were serious when she spoke. “Cyrus, when you came into the bar, and I was coming out of the haze, all I could think was, oh, there he is. My heart melted. I’ve known you two days, but I am in love with you. How can that be? How can I feel like I know you when I don’t know basic things like your favorite color or what you like to eat on Sunday mornings?”

He took her nipple into his mouth, sucking on it. She gasped, and he smiled, loving the sound of her responses. “I like black. I know it’s a shade not a color, but it is what I like. And I don’t know what I like to eat on Sunday mornings. I’m usually sitting in the office. Coffee?”

She dug her fingers into his back, drawing him closer. “That changes, okay? No work on Sundays.”

“Okay.” He kissed her on the mouth again, letting his hand travel down to her pussy. He stroked her sex, pushing one finger and then two inside of her.

“I mean it.” She bit down on his shoulder, and his cock hardened to the point of pain.
Yes.
She could do that anytime she wanted. Maybe that’s what it was like for her when he bit down. If he’d been less in control, he would have come right there.

“Yes. I’ll stay home on Sundays.” He kissed her again, positioning his penis by her entry. Since her little bite, there was no time to waste. If he didn’t get inside of her, he wasn’t going to make it there.

Cyrus pushed inside of her, feeling the welcoming heat and pulses from her muscles. She fit him like a glove, and he groaned out his appreciation. Betsy raised her hips, and he pushed deeper.

“Yes, more like that, darling, please.” He loved the darling.

Picking up the pace, he pushed and withdrew until they were both in a frenzy. His mouth hurt, and it took him a second to realize his canines had descended again. What the hell? He shouldn’t have to mark her again so soon. She wrapped her legs tighter around his waist and knew he was lost.

All sense fled him, and as he pushed both of them over the edge with a grind against her clit, he bit down on her shoulder, marking her in the same spot again. Betsy writhed beneath him, calling out his name again and again as his cock filled her with his seed. Finally, when he could breathe, he let go of her shoulder, licking the spot again. At this rate, her skin would never heal, and he felt fine with that idea. Always his, always marked.

“Betsy,” he whispered in her ear. Her eyes were closed, but she smiled.

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

He lay down and rolled her against his side. She yawned, snuggling deeper. “It’s red.”

“What?” He hadn’t followed what she said. Was she talking in her sleep?

“My favorite color. Just so you know. And I like pancakes with maple syrup.” He was going to be sure to get some in the house.

Betsy sat in her seat listening to Cyrus talk about the moon, about the earth, about being part of things. Several of her pack mates wept, and one woman had actually gotten up and left. Betsy could feel their misery as if were own, and it pressed down on her shoulders like a mountain had formed on top of them.

But she knew her burden to be nothing compared to her mate’s. Cyrus had stayed home from work, and although she hadn’t known him long, she knew enough to understand how odd that happened to be. He’d slept well into the morning, and, although he’d answered questions if she spoke to him, he’d all but shut her out otherwise, their closeness from the night before long gone.

They were all gathered on the roof of the office building. A hush had descended on the place when Travis, Lilliana, and Alexei had arrived for the ceremony. Travis and Alexei had left guards at the entrance of the building so all of Cyrus’ people could attend. Betsy took in the gathering. She hadn’t even known there were so many wolves in Cyrus’ pack. Somewhere around five hundred, she would guess. Some women clutched babies, and old couples held each other’s hands.

All of them had stared at her when she’d entered in on Cyrus’ arm. Betsy didn’t want to imagine what they were thinking about her. Who was the woman who had stolen away their Alpha? Why hadn’t she been able to help Kyra? What use was a woman mated to an Alpha if she was so clueless in what to do for all of them?

Betsy sighed and forced her attention back to Cyrus. He stood silently in front of them. It must have been unusual because whispers started behind her. The wolf pack didn’t know why their Alpha had failed to finish the ceremony.

“Can everybody hear me?” Cyrus raised his voice, and the whispering hushed. His eyes met hers, and she nearly jolted off the seat. Her mate was in pain, and it dug into her soul. This went beyond the sadness of the rest of the group.

“Good.” He stared out the group, and after a moment, the pain she’d glimpsed vanished as if it had never been there. Her love was certainly proficient at hiding his feelings. “If, at any point, you can’t hear me, please raise your hand.”

He took a beat before he spoke again, and she wondered if he considered his words. This couldn’t be standard to the ceremony, which, up until this point, had felt pretty rote.

“I realize it isn’t traditional to do this during a moon ceremony. Please know it is only out of respect for Kyra that I speak this way. She was not only an amazing pack member, mate, and mother, but I have recently learned that she gave her life to save my mate.”

Betsy stared down at the ground. That was right. Kyra would never draw breath again because she had saved Betsy. How was she going to live with this for the rest of her days? Was there even a way to make it right?

“I can’t seem to stop my eyes from going to Jensen and his children.” Kyra and Jensen had two children, both girls with their mother’s light brown hair. They sat on either side of their father, the older one looking stoic and the younger periodically breaking down into tears. “And I remember when Lake and I were children and how we sat through a ceremony like this one for our parents.”

Lake was missing. It hadn’t dawned on her that the Healer wasn’t there, but now that she looked, it was very clear the other woman wasn’t present. Betsy leaned back in her seat. Something was going to have to be done about that girl. If only she knew her better.

“I remember watching the Alpha, Shepherd, talk about my parents and feeling like didn’t really know them. No one could have understood them like we did, and even now I’m not sure I really did grasp who they were. I was a child or, rather, a teenager, which may have been worse, and there is a certain kind of blindness in that.”

Some murmurs of agreement crossed the pack. Betsy still wasn’t sure what Cyrus was doing. She concentrated on trying to keep a calm look on her face. Everyone would be able to smell her nerves, but maybe she’d get credit for trying.

“Anyway, what I wanted from Shepherd was something he never delivered. Something I’m going to make sure your children get, Jensen.” Cyrus nodded, and she wondered if he was there in the moment with them or if he’d travelled with his memory back to the time he’d sat at his own parents’ moon ceremony. “I’m going to get you retribution. It won’t bring back Kyra. But I can promise you that we will taste their blood. They will know pain.”

A roar sounded, and she turned around to look at who had made the noise. Was this standard for a funeral? Shouldn’t they all be crying and patting each other on the back? Why was everyone applauding? Her mouth watered at his words. She’d like to see retribution, and Cyrus’ words filled her with a warmth that had been missing for most the day.

“I can promise you their deaths. Or the end of my life trying.”

Her heart may have stopped beating for a second before it picked up in a rapid one-two punch that left her feeling as though he’d taken his foot and kicked her hard.
His own life.
Cyrus seemed so casual with his disregard for his own existence. She squirmed in her seat, wishing to be anywhere else. Somewhere she could catch her breath. Why was this throwing her so completely off balance?

Cyrus had killed the Alpha to become the Alpha. That was the way things worked. He’d been in wars. Someday some young werewolf was going to come and want to replace him as Alpha. They’d challenge him, and there would be a fight. Maybe Cyrus would die. Betsy shoved her head between her knees. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to hyperventilate.

“Are you okay?” Liana whispered in her ear.

“No.” She sat back up. “I think I’m having a hard time with some of the truths of our lives.”

“The dying part.” Liana nodded. “I know. Sometimes hearing them speak about it makes me really hot, and sometimes it makes me really scared.” She shook her head. “I think it’s one of those ways male werewolves are different. They’re almost eager to run off and die in a battle to prove something. It makes them fierce protectors and fine men. But it makes them reckless as hell. Maybe this isn’t a really good time to ask, but are there real differences between men and women who are human? I think there must be. I watch this television show called
Sex and the City
…”

Liana continued, but Betsy ceased listening. Was Cyrus really okay with running off and dying? Leaving her alone while he had his name inscribed in some kind of book for the glorious dead?
No
. That couldn’t be. None of this would work without him. Being a werewolf could be okay because it also meant being his mate, but she didn’t want to be a werewolf if Cyrus didn’t live in the world.

She smiled at Liana stood up and left, even though Cyrus still spoke. She couldn’t take any more. Hopefully, the other woman would forgive her and think she was spacey, but she needed to get some perspective, and that wasn’t going to happen on the roof while everyone applauded the idea of Cyrus potentially getting himself killed.

Of course, wishing she wasn’t a werewolf was probably akin to wishing she’d been born with brown hair instead of blonde. There wasn’t anything she could do about her genetics, and no one sold beauty products to make her less moon-dependent or non-furry. She walked down the staircase back into the office building. The cool air of the air conditioning hit her skin, cooling her, and she suddenly realized she’d been sweating.

How had she not noticed? Betsy slowed down and pushed her head up against the wall. The hallway spun, and if she kept moving, all she was going to do was collapse. How had the reality of Cyrus’ existence not dawned on her before now?

She’d gone and fallen head over heels in love with a man—her mate—who had a job, no, a
role
in life, where the very nature of his position meant that people would want to kill him. If someone else wanted to be Alpha of Manhattan, all they had to do was challenge Cyrus to a fight and win.

Her mate had gotten the job at twenty years of age by killing Shepherd. If some young kid got a good swipe in, her whole life would shatter.

“Betsy.” Cyrus’ voice moved over her, and she lifted her head from the wall as he placed his hand on her back. She hadn’t scented him, which showed how floored her revelation had left her.

“What’s the matter, princess?” His voice soothed her nerves like a cold balm on a heat rash. He was alive right now. That had to count for something.

“Sorry. I guess I’m having a breakdown. Finally. I hope I didn’t spoil the ceremony. I suddenly had to get out of there.”

He pulled her against him. “It finished. All is well.”

She fit her head on his shoulder and breathed in his scent. “Good. I would have hated to have spoiled it.”

“What caused this response?” He kissed the side of her chin. She loved the warm feel of his breath as it brushed against her skin. They were totally exposed in a hallway, but she felt as though they were alone in the universe. “I know I haven’t been communicating a lot today. I had to consider things.”

“Right.” She pulled back, his words shattering the illusion of the quiet moment. “The decision to announce you would taste her killer’s blood or you would die trying. That decision.”

“Which part bothers you?” He crossed his arms on his chest. When he continued, it was not with gentle tones. “The eating, the blood, or the dying?”

“The dying, my Alpha.” If he was going to yell at her, then she’d speak to him as the others did and see how he liked it. “The sacrificing your life. And also—because I’m truly an idiot for not realizing it earlier—the fact that you could die any full moon if someone decided they wanted your job. One good lunge and you’re dead on the ground. It freaked me out.”

He shook his head. “I’m going to assume you said that because you are ignorant of my strength and fighting skills and not because you are doubting my ability to hold this pack, protect you, and defend myself from usurpers?”

“Assume whatever the hell you want.” She turned on her heel and stormed towards the stairs and then down them. He could get pissy by himself. She’d heard too many proclamations of death and destruction from him to fill a lifetime, and she couldn’t listen to any more. She had to deal with him on the airplane. Until then, she needed to think. Just a little distance to…

She heard Cyrus a bare second before he yanked her against him. “You don’t get to say that to me and walk away, mate.” He must have charged down the stairs to get to her so fast. “You know if you run, I chase.”

“Okay.” She shoved at his chest. “Then I won’t run, my Alpha. I’ll tell you exactly what I’m thinking since you seem disinclined to give me any space.”

“Stop calling me that. I don’t want that from you. There’s no such thing as space between us, Betsy.”

“Oh really? Seemed there was lots of it today while you worked things out in your head when you didn’t share your plan with me what you decided to proclaim to the pack. So, is it only me who never gets any alone-time, but you can take it whenever you want to?”

“I am the Alpha of this pack. I don’t discuss my decisions with anyone.”

“So then I’m your mate, Cyrus, when it’s convenient, but the other times I can go screw myself. Is that it?”

“That kind of language is beneath you, princess. I don’t like it.”

She threw her hands up. Why was he focused on small details when he should be listening to what she said? “Are you paying attention to me? I’m angry with you.” She clearly had to spell this out for him as though he was a child. “You decided to risk your own life—to announce your intention to do so to the whole pack—without even informing me that you meant to do so first. And it has made me angry with you.”

“Your temper shows how human you still remain.” He shook his head. “I’m the Alpha of this pack. I don’t discuss pack business with anyone if I don’t want to. Things that relate to us, I’ll be happy to bring to your attention, but this is me as the Alpha. I don’t talk to you about it. Ever.”

She felt as though he had smacked her over the head. “I see.”

“No, I don’t think you do. I have to live many lives, and one of them now is being your mate. I don’t think it’ll come as a surprise to you to hear me say that it’s my favorite part, the best moments of every day, and sometimes being with you is going to mix with the rest of my life, my role as Alpha of this pack.” He took a deep breath, fatigue radiating from his pores. His scent smelled acidic. Why had she brought this up now?

Her temper had always been an unpredictable entity in her life. One second she’d be angry, the next she wasn’t. His scent had defused her. Not that she wasn’t correct, but they clearly couldn’t have this discussion while he was so exhausted.

“Fine. I understand. I won’t push this, for now. But you’re too smart to believe that a mate can be sidelined like that. You need me, and you know it.”

He sucked in his breath, and she turned around but then thought better of it. If she ran, he would chase, and she wasn’t in the mood for where that would end. They’d be right back in this situation. She closed her eyes. Her father had sometimes gotten really unreasonable with her mother. What had the woman who raised her done? She’d cooked him something, calmed him down, and then tried again. Sure enough, he’d ended up giving her what she’d wanted.

Betsy opened her eyes to regard Cyrus. “Sweetheart, I don’t really want to have to start managing you to make you be reasonable. Why are you acting so obstinate? Are you feeling guilty about something?”