Bound to the Alpha: Part Three (2 page)

T
he overcast sky
dimly lit the moon room, filtering down from its half-open ceiling. The furs that Sarah and Hale had cleaned had been thrown into a large pile on the enclosed side of the room. She made her way over to the pile, plucking out one of her favorites, a large square blanket of stitched brown and white rabbit pelts. It was incredibly soft, and she didn’t feel too guilty about wrapping herself up in it, seeing as how the rabbits had all been used to feed the pack.

Alder grabbed one of the larger furs as well, securing it around his shoulders. It was only then that Sarah realized he was nude, and it disturbed her how comfortable she was becoming with the pack’s clothing-optional attitude.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked.

“A bucket would be nice,” she said, lowering herself to sit beside the cold fire pit.

Sarah heard the clang of metal and ceramic as Alder sifted through a wicker basket that rested against the wall behind her. He produced a large metal pail and handed it to her. She took it, recognizing it as the pail they used to heat up water for baths. Something about staring into the bottom of the bucket made her stomach lurch again, and this time she couldn’t hold back the surge of bile.

When she’d emptied the contents of her stomach into the pail, Sarah lifted her head and tugged at the collar of her gown. She felt hot all over, and was grateful when a gust of chilled air swept through the room.

“Here,” Alder said, offering her a cup of water. As she rinsed her mouth out, he sat down beside her and set to rekindling the fire. “When Grace comes back, ask if she has any mint stored away. It’ll help.”

Bluntly, she asked, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

He tilted his head towards her, looking bemused. “Why wouldn’t I be nice to you?”

She shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t exactly make the best first impression.”

“No,” he agreed, turning back to the fire pit. “But you were upset. People do and say things they don’t mean when they’re upset.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her head. “What makes you think I didn’t mean it?”

“You came back, didn’t you?”

“I wasn’t given much of a choice. It was either come back here or freeze to death.”

He shrugged. “You still could have asked Hale to take you.”

“It’s like you said. If Hale left, there would only be you here to defend the den.”

Alder gave a slight nod, though she wasn’t sure he believed her. She couldn’t blame him. She wasn’t sure
she
believed her.

Cool-In-A-Crisis Sarah was always very practical, and at the time it had seemed like a solid plan. Get Hale to take her to the nearest town, terminate the pregnancy, and then put Cain and everything else behind her.

Now that she had slept on it, she recognized there were two things she hadn’t accounted for. The first was that she’d never be able to get over Cain without some sort of resolution. Much like her mom leaving her, she’d probably always wonder what they could have had together.

The other thing she was only starting to realize was that she really didn’t want to get rid of the baby. It wasn’t that she’d had a major change of heart about her situation. She’d never wanted to be a parent, but despite her best efforts to remain detached, she was already beginning to feel responsible for the life growing inside of her.

It had begun the night before, when she’d eaten breakfast. Grace had insisted that she eat the liver as it was ‘good for the pup’, and Sarah had spent at least a moment wracking her mind, trying to remember if Grace was right, before having to remind herself that it didn’t matter. Then, earlier that morning, the straw that had broken the camel’s back had been when Meadow had elbowed Sarah in the gut. Sarah had shot up, feeling an inexplicable rush of anger and protectiveness. It had taken several deep breaths before she had been able to get her emotions under control. It was only then that she decided to blockade herself with Sable, whom Sarah reasoned was much hardier than her baby.

Her baby…
She was so screwed.

Wisps of smoke began to curl up from the fire pit as Alder kindled the flame. Finding the smell of wood smoke to be strangely soothing, Sarah leaned back on one arm, her free hand idly rubbing her stomach.

Alder pulled back as flames swept through the fire pit. He brushed his hands off on the fur and then glanced over at the pail, his nose wrinkling.

She said, “Sorry, I’ll take that outside.”

He held up a hand. “I’ll take care of it.” He scratched his chin, and then added, “It’s good that you’re sick.”

“You think?”

Alder gave an affirmative grunt. “Dawn was always sick with Caim, but never with the next two.” Sarah shot him a questioning look, and he said, “Snow was her third. She lost the second.”

“It was Cain’s?” Sarah’s throat tightened at his solemn nod. “Was she very far along?”

He nodded again. “It was very difficult for her and Cain both.”

Sarah considered this new information as they sat in a comfortable silence. She wanted to know more about Cain and Dawn’s relationship, but she had the feeling that the more she pried, the more she would sympathize with Cain.

When they had met the month before, it had almost felt as if Cain had burst into existence just to save her. To her, he had been nothing but a handsome and brave werewolf, who was perhaps a bit guarded about his past. She had thought that it was because she was human that he hadn’t wanted to give away personal details. After all, humans were one of the largest threats to his kind’s existence.

Now, she understood that it hadn’t necessarily been because he didn’t trust her. Given how much he had been through and all of the burdens he endured, it must have nice for him to be around someone who knew nothing about his past.

Alder’s heavy sigh brought her back to the present. Giving her a meaningful look, he said, “If you leave him…”

Sarah bit her lip and looked away. “I’m not responsible for his feelings.”

The words were cold, and she immediately regretted them, but couldn’t take them back. She blinked a few times, and when she glanced back at Alder, he was moving to stand. On impulse, she reached out to grab his wrist.

His eyes locked on to hers, and for a few seconds she felt naked. It wasn’t like he was undressing her with his eyes. It was like he could see past all of her bullshit.

Without a word, he reached down and hauled her into his arms before retaking his place in front of the fire. His big arms banded around her body, and her muscles tensed with her confusion.

“Just relax,” he said, resting his chin on her head.

Once she realized that he wasn’t trying to make a move on her, Sarah slowly complied, resting her head on his chest. Up close, she could tell that his scent was a little different from Cain’s, a pleasant woodsy musk that she couldn’t quite place. She ignored the difference in their scents, and instead focused on the steady cadence of his heartbeat.

He held her for only a few moments, but somehow it was long enough for Sarah to start to feel whole again. It confused her, how being held by a stranger could be so comforting. Much later, it would occur to her that Alder wasn’t a stranger at all. He was family.

I
t snowed heavily
for three days, leaving Sarah and the children to spend their nights sequestered in the lower chambers where it was warm. Clover and the adults were rarely home except to sleep, as the poor weather made hunting more difficult. No matter how bad the storm, though, they would always return with something to eat.

The nausea and fatigue of early pregnancy wore at Sarah’s usually patient demeanor. By the second night of the storm, the children had learned how to occupy one another, rather than get on her nerves.

When the snowstorm finally passed, they were all eager to go outside. Unfortunately, a bear clan had passed very close to the den the night before, and Hale ruled that no one besides the hunting party was allowed outside.

Fortunately, the moon room served as a good substitute for the outdoors. The uncovered half of the room was blanketed in nearly two feet of snow, and there was plenty of room for the girls to run and play. After making sure they were sufficiently bundled up, Sarah sat back near the fire and watched them frolic in the snow.

Just after dusk, Sarah heard the barking and yelping of the hunting party as they passed over the den on their way to the stream, where they would strip the carcasses. She was glad that they did it away from the den, and grateful that no one asked her to help, as she wasn’t sure her stomach could handle the unpleasant affair.

Hale entered the moon room a few moments later. She only knew it was him because he was responsible for the day watch, and usually retired to sleep after the hunt. He was almost always asleep before they ate, and Sarah suspected that he wasn’t fond of cooked meat.

Unexpectedly, Caim entered as well, following his uncle in the form of a shaggy black wolf. Locked in Caim’s jaws was what had to be the biggest turkey Sarah had ever seen before. It was so fat that the pup was unable to fully lift it, and so most of its body dragged along the den floor. She grimaced at the trail of blood left in its wake.

Catching sight of Sarah, Caim made a beeline for the fire pit, dropping the turkey in front of her. Sarah looked between the dead bird and Caim, the latter of whom had sat and was giving her an expectant look.

Realizing what he wanted, she reached out and patted him on the head. “Wow, did you catch this all by yourself?”

Caim’s thumping tail belied his otherwise stiff response. She glanced back down at the bird, grimly accepting what would have to come next.

The girls had quickly gathered around to observe the turkey as well. Sarah looked to Lotus, giving her a weak smile.

“Mind showing me what to do with this bird?” she asked.

To date, Sarah had yet to prep any game save for deer and small mammals, and even with those, she somehow always managed to avoid doing most of the work. She was happy to watch the children, or even clean, but she didn’t think she would ever get used to dealing with dead animals.

Rather than answering, Lotus glowered at Caim. “How come he does not help you?”

“Well, he caught it for us,” Sarah reasoned.

Lotus curled her lip at Sarah. “I can hunt too. No one ever lets me hunt. It is not fair.”

Sarah tapped her cheek thoughtfully. “I guess you’re right. How about you help me with the turkey tonight, and then tomorrow night, you can join the hunting party.”

Lotus’s face brightened, but the idea was immediately shot down.

“No way,” Hale said, sitting down on the other side of the fire. “It’s enough that we have to watch after one pup. We can’t be worried about Caim
and
Lotus.”

“I’m not a pup,” Lotus fumed, her hands curling into small fists. Hale spared her a sympathetic glance, but didn’t dignify her with a response.

“Hang on,” Sarah said, holding her hands out. “There’s an easy solution. They can take turns. Caim can go one night and Lotus can go the next.”

Her suggestion was met with a low growl from Caim. Sarah looked between the small wolf and the girl before giving Hale a helpless look. He seemed amused by her predicament, and offered no assistance.

Turning back to the children, Sarah said, “Look, here’s—hey, come back!” Sarah’s shoulders slumped as Caim sauntered from the room, his tail held high.

Sarah groaned, running a hand through her hair. “I just can’t get anything right with him.”

Hale said, “No one ever tells that pup ‘no’. It’s good for him.”

She gazed at Hale through the fire. “I know. I just hate being the bad guy.”

W
hen Caim hadn’t returned
by breakfast time, Sarah was wracked with guilt. The others assured her that it wasn’t unusual for him to disappear, especially when his father was away. It troubled her even more that no one seemed overly concerned that he was gone, and it took Sarah several hours of nagging before Fern and Jewel agreed to go looking for him.

They were eating their early morning meal in the lower chambers by the time the women returned with a sullen Caim in tow. Sarah tried several times to offer him food, but he lay down by the wall, refusing to acknowledge her.

The women conversed in between stuffing their faces with warm turkey meat. Feeling too sick to eat, Sarah focused on trying to feed Snow. The little girl was being unusually difficult. Sarah experimented with several different cuts of meat, but Snow turned her nose up to them indiscriminately.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Sarah said, waving a chunk of white meat under Snow’s nose. “You have to eat something.”

Her small face reddened with agitation, Snow shook her head furiously. “Don’t like bird,” she fussed.

Sarah pursed her lips. “Yeah, well sometimes we have to eat things we don’t like.”

As she contemplated the ethics of force-feeding a three-year-old, it occurred to Sarah that the room had gone quiet. She glanced up to see the women staring in her direction with varying degrees of surprise.

Sarah scratched the back of her head. “What…” she trailed off, realization finally settling in. She put her hands under Snow’s arms, turning the little girl to face her. With poorly contained excitement, Sarah said, “You talked!”

The other women all began speaking at once, expressing their happiness at the milestone. Even the perpetually sour-faced Meadow looked pleased. Snow gave a delighted cry as Sarah squeezed her into a bear hug.

“I’m so proud of you,” Sarah gushed, planting kisses on Snow’s head.

When the initial excitement had died down a little, everyone took turns trying to get Snow to say something else. Either the pressure was too much, or she was still in a stubborn mood, because despite everyone’s efforts, she just sat in Sarah’s lap, shyly sucking her thumb.

Lotus was particularly tenacious. She sat next to them on crossed legs, still throwing words at Snow long after the others had lost interest.

“What about ‘bird’?” Lotus said, her chin in her hands. “You just said ‘bird’, can’t you just say it again? It’s easy. Say ‘brrrr’ like you’re cold, and then ‘duh’. Come on.”

Snow yawned in response, and Sarah had to bite back her laughter. To Lotus, she said, “It’s pretty late, cupcake. She’s probably just tired. How about you try again tomorrow?”

Lotus gave them both a glum look. “You should try to get her to say something else. She talked for you the first time.”

“I don’t think she was talking for me. She was just frustrated and trying to express herself,” Sarah explained. To prove her point, she craned her head down to meet Snow’s gaze. “Can you say ‘Sarah’ for me?”

As predicted, Snow just stared back at her through sleepy eyes.

Offhandedly, Lotus said, “She should call you ‘mama’.”

Sarah’s head snapped up. Her heart thudding in her chest, she said, “I don’t think that would be appropriate.”

“Why not?” Lotus asked.

“Snow had a mother,” Sarah tried to reason. “I can’t just take her place.”

Lotus shrugged. “Well, maybe Snow wants a new mother. We should ask her if she wants you to be her—”

Anxiety twisted in her gut as Sarah held up a hand to silence Lotus. “I think that’s enough for tonight, Lotus. Snow’s tired. I’m going to go tuck her in.”

Excusing herself from the group, Sarah carried Snow from the room. After several weeks, she knew her way around the dark passageways quite well, and had no trouble making her way to Meadow’s room.

Sarah paused in the doorway. Within the next hour, the others would probably be retiring as well. Communal by nature, the wolves tended to gather in Meadow’s room to sleep, and today Sarah really wanted to be alone. She continued walking, heading for the one room where she was unlikely to be disturbed.

Cain’s room was dark, and the stone floor chilled her toes. Sarah set Snow down on the furs and then fumbled about the room for the matchbook. When she found it, she lit a single candle and placed it in a depression in the wall.

As Sarah was coming to realize, Alder had been right about werewolf children. There were a lot of perks to them, her favorite being how easy it was to put them to bed. They loved taking naps, and bedtime was never a hassle. By the time Sarah crawled into the furs, Snow was already sound asleep.

Sarah placed a hand on Snow’s chest for moment, making sure her breathing was okay. Once she was satisfied, she lay back in the furs, one arm hooked around Snow.

It was the first time she’d been back in the room since the day Cain had left, and his scent still lingered on the pelts. Sarah buried her nose into the fur, her eyes misting over. Each day that he was gone, she grew less angry and missed him even more.

She lay in bed for a long while, thinking about Cain, Snow, and her future—a future that didn’t entirely belong to her anymore. After several attempts to banish the thoughts, Sarah decided to take a walk and hopefully clear her mind.