Alpha (5 page)

That time, his bittersweet smile was equal parts angst and sympathy. “First of all, you're never too old to ask your father for advice.”

I forced a smile with tears still standing in my eyes.

“And second, I have no doubt that Jace loves you. He's been watching you like you hung the moon from the day you came back to the ranch. I just didn't realize he'd gone beyond staring. I didn't think he
would,
after Marc got ahold of him last time.”

“Jace is changing. He's…challenging Marc, and not just over me.”

He nodded slowly, staring into the branches as if he were seeing something else. “I saw that, too. Ever since Ethan… I just hadn't put two and two together.”

I swallowed thickly and bark cut into my palm when I gripped the log beneath me. “I think he could be an Alpha. He could be a
good
Alpha, Dad.”

He nodded hesitantly. “Maybe so, with some training aimed at leadership. But that's not the most important question right now. What I need to know is, do you love him?”

More tears came, and this time I let them fall, hot on my frozen cheeks. “Yeah.” I blinked, and my father's face blurred. “I don't want to love him—this would be
so
much simpler if I didn't. But I do. He's funny, and passionate, and strong, and he believes in me more than I even believe in myself. When he looks at me, I feel like I could take on the whole world and come out standing tall. I like myself better when I'm with him, because of how he sees me. He makes me feel beautiful and powerful, like I'm the most important thing in the world, and I don't know how to walk away from that. I don't know how to walk away from
him
.”

Jace was like a drug, steadily, stealthily subverting my willpower. And there was
serious
heat between us. The kind that can knock down buildings or make a person spontaneously combust.

My father looked stunned, and it actually took him a moment to recover from my discourse on new love. “And you still love Marc?”

“More than I can even explain. He's my rock—strong and steady, and ready for anything. He knows what I need before I know it, and he pushes me to work harder, and look deeper, and be better. He challenges me, and infuriates me, and he lights me on fire, deep in my soul. And he has never, ever let me down. Sometimes it feels like he's the only thing keeping my heart beating. I love him so much that it feels like I'm dying a little bit every day that he won't smile at me. Or touch me. Not even a hug. He keeps this distance between us now. And Jace has to do the same, because they have this weird, fragile truce that isn't quite working, but I know better than to make them break. But this truce is going to break
me
.”

The tears fell faster, and a truly pathetic sob followed. “I love them both, and they both love me, but neither of them will even hold my hand, and I'm more alone now
than I've ever been in my life, and it's all my own fault.” I sniffled, my nose running from the cold and from the tears. “It's not supposed to be like this. Love isn't supposed to break your heart. Or anyone else's. There aren't supposed to be two of them. How did this even happen? I mean, I
know
how this happened, but I can't make any sense of it. Even if I hadn't…
connected
with Jace the night Ethan died, this all would have surfaced eventually, and I can't think of any less painful way it could have played out.”

He pulled me close, one arm around my back, and I put my head on his shoulder like I hadn't done since I was a child. “Faythe, your heart doesn't answer to your brain. And neither do theirs. If that were the case, do you think Marc would still be waiting for your answer?”

“Of course not. If his head were in charge, he'd have kicked me to the curb years ago.” I sobbed again, and this time my father chuckled. “What's so funny?” I demanded, tilting my head when my cheek got his coat wet.

“You didn't cry when Kevin Mitchell broke your arm, or when you got stabbed in the hip the last time we were here. But boy troubles are still enough to reduce you to tears.”

“I think this runs a little deeper than ‘boy troubles,' Daddy.”

“Yet I'm reminded of your freshman year in high school, when you sat in your room crying over…what was his name? Chad Baker?”

“How on earth do you remember that?”

“You're the only daughter I have, Faythe. I remember everyone who's ever hurt you.”

I pulled away to stare at him in awe, still wiping
sloppy tears from my increasingly cold-numbed cheeks. He was serious.

“Anyway, on the bright side, you do have one advantage most other tabbies don't.”

“I do?” I blinked, thoroughly at a loss.

“This doesn't have to be a political decision. In fact, it shouldn't be. You don't have to marry an Alpha, Faythe. You're going to
be
an Alpha. I have no doubt in my mind that by the time I'm ready to retire, you'll be ready, no matter who you choose. So you have to follow your heart on this one. You owe that to yourself, and to both of them.”

“That's what Marc said.”

My father's eyes widened, and I saw unmistakable respect in his small smile. “He did?” I nodded. “Then he must really mean it, because though I see great potential in Jace, right now Marc's better prepared to help you run this Pride.”

“I know.” My brain was whirring, while my heart only beat sluggishly in protest. “But I don't need to run it right now. Right? And in a few years, that could change?”

“Of course. That's why the only advice I can give you is this…” He sat up straight and twisted on the log to face me, his gaze boring into mine. “Don't confuse the issue by trying to figure out who loves you the most, or who needs you the most. In the end, it only comes down to one thing: choosing the one you can't live without.”

“H
ow'd it go?” Jace whispered, standing next to me at the counter as I poured Coke into a glass of ice. The cabin was crowded now, but the kitchen was empty. Still, werecats have amazing hearing, even in human form.

“He's not mad.” I lifted the glass for a sip, and soda fizz sprayed my nose. “I thought he'd be furious, but he… He said you can't help who you love.” I looked up at Jace, and his cobalt gaze seemed to burn right through me. “It turns out my mom used to be engaged to Bert Di Carlo. I think… Jace, I think he really understands.”

Jace smiled, and his whole face lit up. “Should I go say something? Make some sort of formal declaration?” He leaned closer to whisper into my hair. “Or thank him for not ripping my lungs out through my throat for sleeping with his daughter?”

I grinned. I couldn't help it. I hadn't seen him look truly happy for more than a minute at a time since Ethan died, and I wanted so badly to make him happy. To keep him smiling. When Jace smiled, I felt warm inside. He took the edge off the winter-in-the mountains chill. “I
think that would be a little awkward right now. He's telling them.”

I nodded toward the living room, where my dad sat with Di Carlo and all three of his enforcers. As humiliating as it was for me—and even more so for Marc—my dad's allies needed to know what was going on, since it would probably be used against us in the vote. Full disclosure to our allies—that was one of the things my father offered, but Malone did not. Surely once
we'd
disclosed Malone's crimes, those Alphas who didn't already know about them—we were pretty sure Wes Gardner and Nick Davidson were completely in the dark—would jump ship. How could they vote for a traitor and a murderer?

“I want to kiss you.” Jace's whisper pulled me from my thoughts and I glanced up to find his eyes blazing with raw need. “Just because Marc won't touch you doesn't mean I shouldn't. Right? I don't have that kind of self-control, and honestly, I don't see the point in it. Are you supposed to be impressed by how long we can go without touching you? 'Cause if that's the game we're playing, I think I'd rather lose.”

I almost melted from relief at his declaration, even with the wash of guilt that followed it. I was tired of being untouched. Alone in a room full of people. How was I supposed to choose who I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, if I couldn't be alone with either of them, allowed to feel anything that wasn't pain and regret? How was denying everything that felt good about love supposed to help me make my choice?

Jace saw my indecision and tugged me into the hall, out of view from the living room. He pressed me against
the wood-paneled wall, and my hands found his chest on their own, before I even realized what I was doing.

“It's not wrong, Faythe,” he whispered, and my heart ached from wanting so badly to believe him. “This is what we're supposed to be doing. Exploring our relationship. Helping you choose.” He ran his hands lightly over my arms, raising chill bumps the length of my body.

“You think my decision should be based on who kisses best?” I barely breathed the words, my eyes closed, trying to resist what felt so wrong, yet so right.

“We both know it's about more than that, but it's physical, too, and I don't want you to forget what I feel like.” Jace leaned into me, sliding one knee between mine, and his skin was hot, even through our clothing. “What I taste like… But if this is a contest, that makes you the judge.” One side of his perfect mouth turned up in a wicked grin. “So how 'bout it? Who's better?”

“Mmmm…” I purred as he rubbed his cheek along my temple. “It's been a while. I'm not sure I remember.”

His breath brushed my cheek from centimeters away. “Let me remind you. Let me kiss you, Faythe.” His voice was low and gravelly, almost broken with need for me, and I was overwhelmed by the power of that need.

A kiss wasn't all he wanted; I could feel that much with him pressed against me. But it was a damn good start.

“I'm going to kiss you,” he said, when I didn't answer.

Yes…
No sound came out, but he heard me, anyway.

Jace's lips met mine, and I tilted my head up to meet him. My mouth opened, and the kiss deepened. He was hungry for me, and I was half-starved from the
recent famine. His lips were hot, his hands warm on my hips, even through my clothes. My arms slid around his back, feeling the play of muscles with each minute movement.

His tongue dipped into my mouth, and suddenly I ached in other, more sensitive places. We were making out in the hall, in full view, should anyone walk in. The thrill of possible discovery was unmitigated by the fact that everyone knew. That we were no longer stealing hidden comfort kisses in the throes of bitter pain and chaos. If anything, I wanted him more now. And he clearly wanted me….

The screen door squealed open from the kitchen. I jerked back from Jace and smacked my head on the wall. But he wasn't interested in stopping and I wasn't fast enough. Marc stood in the doorway, hands fisted at his sides, face lined in pain.

Jace stepped back and I straightened my shirt, but the damage was done.

Marc had only seen me with Jace once, in my bedroom, when I'd first returned to the ranch. It wasn't real back then. Because I hadn't taken Jace seriously, and Marc and I weren't even together at the time. But Marc had ripped my door from its hinges and broken through the Sheetrock with Jace's head.

“Don't stop on my account,” he snapped, jaw bulging furiously. “Hell, why don't we sell tickets?” He stopped when intrusive silence descended from the living room. Marc scrubbed his face with both hands, then crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the floor, clearly trying to get control of his temper.

“Marc…”

“No.” He looked up, flames raging behind his eyes. “Outside, if you want to talk.”

I nodded and headed for the kitchen, grateful that he hadn't just stormed out again. Jace started to follow me, and Marc turned on him, growling, pulling one fist back.

“Stop!” I shouted. My father appeared in the doorway, tense and angry. Jace practically buzzed with fury. I sucked in a deep breath and grabbed Marc's arm, pushing it down steadily while I stared straight into his eyes. I begged him silently to back off, fully aware that if he wasn't willing to, I couldn't make him.

“Faythe…” My father's warning held little of the sympathy he'd shown earlier. He wouldn't judge me, but he
would
preserve order. He had to. And so did I. “If you can't handle this,
I
will.”

“It's okay. I got it.” I let go of Marc's fist and it stayed down, though his eyes still flashed with anger and an underlying personal agony. I gestured for Marc to head on out. Jace tried to follow again, and this time I stepped into his path. “Jace, give us a minute.”

“Hell, no!” He was tense all over, and I could feel fury radiating like heat from a bonfire. “You shouldn't be alone with him when he's like this.”

My dad growled in warning, and I glared at Jace. “Don't tell me where I shouldn't be. Stay here. I need to talk to Marc.”

He scowled, but nodded. I shot an apologetic glance at my father, then ran out the back door after Marc. But the backyard was empty. I raced down the steps, adrenaline flooding my veins, demanding an immediate search.

“Over here,” Marc said, and I whirled around to find
him leaning against the shed near the tree line. I jogged across the yard and into the shed while he held the door open for me. He yanked the pull chain on the light, then leaned against the closed door, and I held up the wall next to him, giving him the two feet of distance he seemed to prefer.

I pushed hair behind my ears, wishing he'd look at me. Wishing he'd touch me, and show me that he could still feel something for me other than anger, even if that something else was buried way down deep.

But instead, he stuffed his hands into his pockets, reinforcing the physical and emotional distance he was building. He blinked into the glare from the naked bulb, and his face was blank. Completely unreadable.

“You were really going to hurt him.” I'd read that much in his posture. And then Jace would have hurt him back, and the situation would have been unrecoverable.

He rolled his eyes and let his head fall against the wood plank wall at his back. “Do you blame me?”

I sighed. He had every right to be pissed, but I had to think about the good of the Pride. “If this war really happens, we're going to need him, and you know it.”

“Maybe you both should have thought of that before you let him shove his tongue down your throat in front of—” Marc's voice broke beneath obvious anguish, and my heart suddenly felt like it weighed ten pounds. “Why are you doing this to me, Faythe? Am I not suffering enough, knowing he's been inside you? Is the floor show just to give me a visual? To make sure I know exactly how much you like it…?”

“No!” I took a deep breath, trying to compose my thoughts. “Marc, I'm not trying to hurt you. I swear. I just… You say I have to choose, but I don't know how
to do that if you won't come near me, and you won't let him near me, either. You won't touch me, Marc. Not a hug. Not a kiss. You won't even sit less than two feet from me.”

“And your solution is to let
him
grope you in plain sight?”

“I just wanted to know I wasn't alone.” I closed my eyes, grasping for an explanation he'd understand. “I know how he feels. He wants to
show
me how he feels about me, and you don't. You
won't
. I miss you, and missing you is so much harder when I can still see you, and hear you, and smell you, but you won't touch me. You hardly ever even look at me unless you're too pissed off to avoid it, and I can't tell if you still want me, or if you just want to make me pay for what I did.”

“You slept with someone else!” Marc whirled around and punched the wall of the shed, and his knuckles came away bloody. “Hell, yeah, I want you to pay! I want you both to pay. How am I supposed to look at you after you've been with him? Knowing you still want to be with him? I'm in the right here, Faythe.
You
screwed up—you screwed
him
—and
I'm
paying for it.”

“I'm sorry…”

“Sorry doesn't mean anything! Not when you're still with him. It's not just that you cheated—it's that he's still here, and you're still with him. It just goes on and on, and it
hurts
every single time I see you with him. I hate it that he makes you smile, and that there's nothing I can do to stop this. I can't think straight, and everything hurts, and nothing makes sense anymore. You're shredding my heart with one hand and stroking his ego with the other. And it's killing me, Faythe. You're killing
me. And it's only going to get worse, now that everyone knows.”

I swiped tears from my cheeks with cold, shaking fingers. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to be sorry enough to tell him to go get his thrills on top of someone else's girlfriend. I want you to swear I'm the only one you want, and the only one you'll
ever
want, and that you'll never even look at anyone else again. I want you to want me, Faythe. As much as I want you.”

“I do want you. I never stopped wanting you.” I couldn't hold back the tears, and my words were halting half sobs. “This isn't about you….”

“Well, it should be!” he shouted, and I flinched. “Everything I do is about you, and I want the reverse to be true, too.” I wiped more tears, my throat aching with words that would only make this worse. “What, you need a reminder? That's what he was doing, right? And now you smell like him. You probably taste like him. You should taste like
me.
…”

He was on me before I could even catch my breath, his mouth bruising mine, and after that, breathing didn't seem so important. Marc pressed me into the wall of the shed, his hands on either side of my shoulders. He kissed me like it had been years, rather than days. Like he was reminding us both.

My body responded without consulting my brain, and I clutched at him, pulling him closer. I'd missed him so much.

His lips trailed down my neck and his hands wandered beneath my shirt, claiming. Demanding. He pulled away just long enough to tug my tee over my head. My
shirt hit the dusty shed floor, and my bra landed on top of it an instant later.

His mouth fed from mine, his tongue slid between my lips as his hands explored territory I'd thought abandoned. Then he dropped into a squat, leaving my mouth cold and empty, and lifted first my right foot, then my left, to pull my boots off. He dropped a trail of hot kisses down my stomach. I gasped when he tugged my jeans button free, but Marc was silent. Eager, but still angry.

I almost lost my balance when he shoved my pants and underwear down with both hands, then tugged them free and slid them across the floor with one foot. He unbuttoned his own pants and pushed them halfway down, then lifted me and held me against the cold wall with his own body.

He slid inside me completely with one stroke, and I had to wrap my arms around his neck for balance. This was not gentle, tender sex. This was desperate need and scorching lust, part revenge, part passion. This was him reclaiming what he thought he'd lost and giving what he thought I'd asked for.

Every thrust was fast and hard. Every stroke was deep and long. Friction burned between us, and my pleasure built too fast to be savored, too hot to be held. By the time he shuddered against me, within me, slamming me into the wall over and over, shaking the entire shed with our fierce union, my own intense, tight coil of pleasure had eclipsed all sight, smell, and sound that wasn't Marc.

He collapsed against me, his shirt damp with my sweat and his. I clung to him, still throbbing around
him, breathing hard as my heart pounded, stunned, and finally hopeful.