The Thing About Weres

“Your brother did.”

I bit down on my back molars, clenching my jaw against the need to release a ragged sob.

“You are not your brother. And I promise that I’ll never let any of the pack hurt you again. No one will lift a hand toward you, no one will ever treat you with disrespect.” His voice was firm, his intention absolute, but how could he say that? Not even the Alpha of Creemore could hold back the shit-storm that was coming our way. His hand stilled on the spot right between my shoulder blades, and flattened there, as if he wanted to feel my heart through his palm.

“I’m twenty-two years old, and I can count the things I love on one hand,” I said, slowly running my finger along the contours of three fingers on his bad hand. “I love Merry, and Cordelia, and Cherry Blossoms. I’m fond of Harry, and I’m softening on Biggs, though that could still go either way.” I gave up on his hand, and moved to his arm, stroking it, trying to flatten hair that seemed to bristle.

Then I lifted my head and looked into his eyes.

“You’d need to be blind, deaf, and dumb not to know this already, but I love you, Robson Trowbridge.” His mouth broke in a wide smile, and suddenly I wanted to cry so badly that I had to clench my teeth and draw in a shallow breath before I could continue. “That’s the truth,” I said shakily. “There’s no getting around it. I love you more than the sum of all the people I’ve ever loved in my life.”

Blue comets in his eyes, deep happiness in his scent.

I covered his mouth with two shaking fingers when he opened his lips to speak.

“I’m not done yet, okay?” I whispered.

His expression grew serious, and he gave me a grave nod.

“If love was all it took, then whether you’re the Alpha of Creemore or the Rogue from British Columbia wouldn’t have made much difference. I could have got past all that.”

His body tensed on the last sentence.

“I’ve got to get up,” I said, fighting the urge to smooth his brows. “I can’t think when you’re touching me.”

“Don’t,” he said, his voice low.

“Gotta,” said I, slipping off his lap.

Folding my arms over my chest, I walked over to the window and stood there with Merry on my shoulder, looking at all the Trowbridge land. His empire. Once, for a brief and dreary moment, mine. “Being with you is what I always wanted. This should be the happiest day of my life, but now you’re telling me that there is no way to save my brother, and it feels like the saddest.”

The seat cushion crackled as he stood. “Hedi—”

“Shh!” I said, not turning. “I’m going to have to watch him die, here. In this house. While he’s under guard. And you’re going to ask me to do nothing about it. And that’s the thing I’m not sure I can get over.” The old glass shivered in its loose moorings as I rested my heavy head against it. “I know what my brother’s become. He’s everything you say—a lying, drug-addicted wolfhunter. I know that’s the truth, just like I know that I owe the boy he once was a debt that can’t ever be repaid.”

Truth is born when you say it out loud. Until then it’s thinking, and somehow, thinking isn’t as painful. But now, as I absorbed all that had been said, guilt swept over me, its weight so choking, it almost smothered the pain.

Breathe. There is a world beyond this minute.

Outside, two Weres inspected a sugar-maple sapling that had seeded itself near the edge of the property. It didn’t belong there—clearly the five-foot specimen had encroached on what had been once designated for lawn, but it was beautiful within its vibrant show of fall color. Ivy had discovered it and had wound itself up the tree’s thin trunk and threaded itself through the lower branches. That, too, was picture-book lovely, its greenery having turned a brilliant red. As I watched, one of the men reached for a vermilion loop.

The sapling bent as he started to strip the ivy from its branches.

I thought about what had to be said next and fought to force the words out of my throat. “The night the Fae came, Mum told me to go wake Lexi up. But I didn’t, which meant that Lexi was sound asleep when the Fae came into the house.” I swallowed. “He was a kid, Trowbridge. Just a little boy, who woke up to find the boogeyman in his bedroom and the house filling up with smoke.”

So small. So feisty. “From the sound of it, he threw every book, video game, and G.I. Joe he had at them. But in the end, he was just a kid. When they carried him past me…” His eyes were so wild. “He saw me hiding in the cupboard, but he never let on to the Fae. So I got to live this life, and he got to live that one. All the things he endured? That could—should—have been me.”

The maple was now rid of its pest, but it had suffered in the process. Branches had broken. Leaves were shed. Now the two men stared at the sapling, one with hands on his hips, the other idly scratching his shoulder.

Leave the tree alone.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Trowbridge said simply, and his scent stretched for me, landing softly on my shoulder, curling down my back and around my waist. It was sweet, and tentative—an extension of the man, not the Alpha. I twisted around to look at him. My mate’s expression was hurting, his arms hanging by his sides.

He’s hurting for me.

“Trowbridge, the truth,” I said. “Is there any chance Lexi can get through the portal without the Black Mage knowing?”

A pause—and for that, I’ll always love him—as he thought it over seriously.

“No,” he said finally. “He’d have to have some pretty serious magic to get through what’s waiting for him at the other end and he doesn’t.”

I nodded and turned back for the window.

“Coming here was the act of a desperate man, sweetheart,” he said as he crossed the room. His tone was careful, just as his steps were slow and measured—a man gingerly navigating himself over a piece of thin ice.

Did he think I was on the verge of breaking?

Not me. I’m almost numb.

My mate touched my arm, and when I didn’t jerk away, he carefully eased me back into his warm embrace and folded his arms around my crossed ones. “Your brother was being put out to pasture, and he knew it. Back in the day, his wolf blood had been overlooked, but tolerance isn’t what it used to be at Court, especially not for a guy whose addiction had become a liability. He was on the way out. The Shadow had outlived his usefulness to the Black Mage and become an embarrassment.”

“I can’t think of a way out of this,” I murmured, watching Merry slide down her chain. She met the obstacle of Trowbridge’s arm, and settled into the vee between my breasts. “He can’t go back; he can’t stay.”

His chin rested on my temple. All I’d have to do would be to lift my chin, and he’d kiss me, and somehow in the moment, I’d forget everything.

Right?

“If it’s any help,” he said. “I could tell you that life for someone with wolf blood is only going to get a whole lot worse in Merenwyn. Once the Old Mage dies, the Black Mage will have full access to the Book of Spells, and he’ll be as powerful as his teacher once was, but he won’t have the tolerance for wolves and other races like the old one. The first thing he’ll do is wipe out anything and anyone that has ever thwarted him.”

“Your Raha’ells?”

His tone hardened. “The Raha’ells have made him look weak. He’ll take care of them the moment the balance of power tips. Anyone with wolf blood in them will be at risk.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“I’ll learn to get over it,” he lied, tightening his embrace. “You know, it won’t just be the wolves who will suffer when the Book of Spells’ wards dissolve.”

All this suffering attached to actions of one mage.

The wish for revenge. It burned inside me, as fierce as it had the moment Rachel Scawens’s son sawed through Trowbridge’s finger.

Very lightly, Trowbridge brushed his thumb over Merry’s warm amber belly. “I used to hate the sight of her on your chest,” he mused. “But I wouldn’t have made it without her in Merenwyn.”