With a nod, he left the room. All the problems in his basement would still be there in the morning. Or they’d be dead. Either way, he needed to go home to his mate. His human legs wouldn’t move fast enough.
****
He passed several of his wolves on the way in. Cyrus hadn’t asked them to guard his mate, but it was nice to see they’d all done it anyway. He nodded to each of them, letting them know that they could leave. There was nothing more to say, no comforting words, nothing he could ever say to make tonight okay.
Shepherd would have given them platitudes. He’d been full of them when he and Lake had been orphaned. Greater good. War. The life of a werewolf. Screw all those meaningless nothings spoken to make the speaker feel better, not the person enduring the pain. Cyrus wouldn’t do that to any of them.
This was awful. They’d know he felt it too.
Finally, at his door, he saw Mitchell. He stared at the other wolf for a second before speaking. He never saw Mitchell without Jensen. They’d been the closest of friends before Jensen’s mating, and nothing had changed afterward.
“What are you doing here?” Mitchell should be with Jensen, not standing at his doorway. There were others to fulfill that duty tonight.
“I failed Kyra.” Mitchell’s voice sounded hoarse. “I won’t have your mate hurt. Not while I can be here to guard her.”
“We all failed Kyra.” Cyrus had to look away for a second, lest he give in to the urge to start howling in the hallway. “I’d never seen such a lineup of armed humans waiting for a fight. They knew we would come. They waited for us.”
“Maybe if Jensen hadn’t been alone when it started…” Mitchell fisted his hands.
“Maybe if I had stopped the bar outings when he first told me about them.” It had seemed relatively harmless. Jensen had always watched them. Cyrus had believed that as long as he kept the pregnant females out of view, then the rest of them would be safe. Kyra was dead because of his arrogance.
“You couldn’t have known.”
“I appreciate the words, Mitchell.” But they didn’t absolve him. Ultimately, the responsibility fell to him. They all belonged to him, and it was his gift to be able to lead them, protect them. “This was the world I grew up in. So did you, although you were a baby. Maybe you don’t remember it.”
Outside a car honked, reminding him of the real world that would too soon make this day nothing more than a memory.
“I remember the drills. I remember my parents were afraid. They’re not anymore. Not since you.” Mitchell’s words struck Cyrus hard. The fact that he stayed upright was a miracle unto itself. All this time and it turned out that all he had been was lucky. None of the things he’d arranged had made the slightest difference. When the humans wanted to attack them, they’d been perfectly able to accomplish their task.
“I would keep you all safe if I could. If working at it day and night could accomplish true safety, that is what I would do.”
Mitchell nodded. “The blame for tonight does not fall to you.”
“It does. As it should.” Cyrus shook his head. “We’ll bury Kyra tomorrow, and then I have to leave for Montana.”
“What time should we be ready to leave?” Mitchell’s jaw was tight, and Cyrus could feel the aggression radiating from the other man’s body. He couldn’t blame him. Cyrus also craved a fight.
“You’re not coming with me.”
Mitchell’s eyes widened. “Sir? Have I done something to make you lose trust in me?”
“Just the opposite, actually. I have to leave New York and go to Montana. We’re not at war with Philadelphia or Boston. I’ve made arrangements that should secure that peace. . But I need someone to hold Manhattan in my stead. I’ve never chosen a second-in-command. It never seemed necessary. Now it’s clear to me that too much time has passed and that I’ve been remiss in not selecting one of you. Mitchell, would you be second? Would you hold Manhattan until I return and, if I don’t come back, will you lead the pack? Keep it strong and safe?”
Mitchell fell to his knees, his head facing the floor. “Sir, I don’t deserve such an honor.”
“You do.” Cyrus shifted his weight. A “yes, sir, I’ll take the job” would have sufficed. These traditions were old and long-standing. Maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised by the reaction. “Stand up and take it if it’s what you want.”
Mitchell stood up. “It would be an honor. I won’t fail you. We’ll find this threat, and we’ll destroy it.”
“We will.” Because Cyrus would die before he ever let this happen again. His mate would be safe in Manhattan for the rest of her days. His people would know peace again. He’d work to make that happen until he drew his very last breath.
****
Betsy was asleep on the couch. She’d left the shades open in the living room, and the lights from the street illuminated her resting figure in colored shadows that made her look, for a moment, unreal, as though she might disappear into the darkness of the colorful display from outside if he blinked.
He took a deep breath, drawing in her scent, which confirmed to him that she was real. Cyrus walked closer, and she didn’t stir. Her mouth was slightly open, her tongue pressed against her teeth. He wished he could have been here to hold her while she cried, the scent of her distress still evident in the room. Her hair was knotted and wet. She must have showered before she changed her clothes. He’d have the bloody ones burned so she never had to look at them and remember.
Cyrus’ gaze fell to her hands. They were still shifted into semi-wolf form. It was so amazing she could do that. He couldn’t. Cyrus either shifted or he didn’t, and as an Alpha, he could manage to shift when it wasn’t a full moon, but most of the pack would never even be able to manage that. The ability to change at will showed the strength to be an Alpha. It was a rather big sign of a pup’s future.
Betsy had managed to half-shift her hands, but she was obviously not able to get shift them back. He placed his fingers on top of hers and stared at them for a second.
Turn back.
Betsy’s hands glimmered before they shifted back to their human form. He smiled at the sight. Cyrus would never be able to do all the things he needed to do, but that, at least, he could manage.
She stirred, her lids fluttering open. “Hi.”
“Hello there.” He smoothed his hand over her forehead. She felt warm from sleep. In a kind world, he’d get to pick her up, carry her to the bed, and snuggle in for the rest of the night. But they had things to talk about before then, and he wasn’t sure he could sleep anyway. Truth was he might never rest easy again.
“I wanted to wait up for you, but I guess I crashed.”
“Perfectly normal after the adrenaline surge.”
She sat up, and he moved until he could position himself right next to her. Sleep might be out of the question, but he needed her presence. She wasn’t the only one who needed to come down from the stress of the night. His blood still boiled too hot.
“Cyrus, that’s the problem.” She rubbed her forehead. “I can’t remember any of it. Something happened. Kyra is dead. Did I do that?”
“What? No, you didn’t.” How could she even think that?
“One second she was telling me I couldn’t fight, that she would protect me, and the next thing I remember, Liana was shaking me. There was blood all over me, and Kyra was dead.”
“Not from your hand.” Cyrus wished he had known she been worried about this earlier. He could have reassured her before he sent her home. “Kyra died from a gut wound delivered to her by a sharp knife. From what you’re telling me, she was probably protecting you if she made you stay behind her.”
He’d always admired Kyra, but now she would forever hold a place of honor in his memory. The woman had gone down protecting his mate. That kind of sacrifice could never be paid back.
“But I don’t know what I did. I must have done something. My hands—claws—were covered in blood.” She sounded so forlorn that he pulled her onto his
lap.
“Betsy, princess, you killed the woman who stabbed her. That’s what you did. That’s what Liana told me. And then you were lost to the haze, and, thank goodness, she brought you back from it. Most of the time, we don’t suffer the haze when we’re wearing our human skin. That’s a new werewolf problem. Teenagers suffer for years. But you’re rapidly catching up, and maybe because of your ability to shift part of your body, it triggered the response.”
“I killed the woman who killed Kyra.” She said the words into his shirt, and he stroked her back.
“How do you feel about that?” He knew how he felt—tremendous relief and pride. But Betsy still needed to adjust to all of this. Humans took the repercussions of killing very seriously. They didn’t see the necessity of it the way werewolves did. The woman had killed Kyra. Of course, she’d had to die.
“Good.” She sniffed, pulling back. “Right. Justified. Glad I did it even if I can’t remember it. Cyrus, does that make me a sociopath?”
“No.” He put his hands on the sides of her head. “It makes you one of us. You protected my people tonight. Thank you, Betsy, thank you. I’m sorry this happened to you. It never should have.”
“They’re mine too. Or at least they feel that way. Like I know them, even though I don’t.”
“That’s pack. They are yours. We all belong to each other.” He kissed the end of her nose. “But when I got the call, all I could think about was you. Getting to you. We were trapped outside. Humans everywhere. I’ve never seen them so organized in their attacks on us.”
“I knew you would come, and then when I saw you, Cyrus, all I could feel was relief. You were there. You were okay. We were all going to be okay. But it wasn’t.” The catch in her voice tore at his heart. “Kyra was dead. Lake couldn’t save her, I guess. I don’t remember.”
“My sister’s abilities were not on track. Alcohol does that to us. I should have forbidden it, I knew what was going on, but I didn’t think it was a problem. We were safe. I really believed that. I’m such a fool.”
“No.” She placed her hands on his chest. “You’re not. Something is happening, escalating. I don’t know what it is. But me, Lilliana, my parents, these crazy psychos coming after us, it’s all related. You couldn’t have known this would happen. You can’t predict the future any more than I can.”
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 c
anines 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.
Chapter Fourteen
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.