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 ches
t. 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?”
He opened and closed his mouth, still not saying anything. Wow. Her simple question had silenced him. Finally, he spoke. “I guess. I’m feeling guilty, as you put it, that Kyra is dead, that I let the bar outings happen.”
“Right.” She nodded. “Those are all huge factors, I’m sure, but I’m asking you if you are feeling guilty in relation to me, outside of Kyra. Is something else making you feel that way, which is why you are acting like such a goat? What is it? Let’s talk about that instead of going around in circles and you saying things I don’t believe you actually mean.”
Cyrus growled, and she sighed. He was going to exasperate her before they ever got to the airplane. “You can growl and fuss if it helps. I don’t mind.”
“You were screaming at me a minute ago.”
She nodded. “And now I have my temper under control.”
“Just like that?”
And now he was going to focus on how and when she got angry? “This time. I can’t promise to always be able to do so, but tonight I can. Count yourself lucky. You’ve had a hard day. I don’t want to be the crazy mate who screams at you when you’re down.”
“Shit.”
“Now who’s using inappropriate language?” She wasn’t going to yell, but it didn’t mean she would forget everything he’d spewed at her.
“All right, I apologize. Yes, I’m feeling guilty.”
She shook her head. Weren’t women supposed to be complicated to deal with emotionally? Betsy needed a roadmap to navigate Cyrus. “About what?”
“Because you’re right, and I don’t like it.”
She stopped for a beat and bit her tongue. Her first instinct had been to snap at him. What did he mean he didn’t like it? Why would it bother him that she should be right? But she tried to breathe through that response. He’d told her she was right. Rather than make things worse, maybe she could try to figure out how to make them better.
“I’m right?”
“Yes. You are. I’m wrong, and you’re right. Happy?”
This was the strangest apology she’d ever heard. Forget a roadmap, she needed a GPS to find her mate in this strange, raving lunatic who had taken over his body.
“No, not particularly.”
“Why not? I’ve told you that I did the wrong thing by not telling you what I meant to say to the pack. I contemplated it, but I knew what you’d say—that I shouldn’t make them that promise—because I know what I would have told you if our situations were reversed. I’d tell you no way in hell should you be promising your life to anyone but me. That being said, this is my role. I can’t be Alpha if I’m unwilling to throw myself in one hundred percent. They deserve nothing less from their leader.”
A bead of sweat had broken out on his forehead, and she wiped it away. “And that’s why you consciously decided not to speak to me most of the day and not tell me you were doing this.”
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “Correct.”
“That’s pretty much akin to lying to me.” She wasn’t going to automatically let him off the hook, even if he seemed kind of sad standing in front of her confessing his sins.
“I suppose if you want to look at it that way.” He stalked over to the side of the stairwell and stared outside.
“How else should I look at it?”
“That I’m the Alpha of Manhattan and I’m not used to explaining myself. I don’t know how to do things differently, and I handled it badly. I apologize.”
She walked over and put her arms around his waist, leaning into his back. “I grew up on a ranch in the middle of nowhere, just me and my folks. You had all this family around you all the time. How do you not know how to communicate better?”
He snorted. “B
etsy, everyone has done what I wanted since I was twenty years old.”
“Then you’re overdue to have a mate who doesn’t always feel inclined to obey your every order.” She really wanted him to understand what she said to him. “Particularly when it comes down to your safety. You belong to me, and I know you belong to all of them too. But you belong to me differently, and I’m going to cherish you whether you want me to or not.”
“I want you to.” He kissed her forehead.
“And you will eventually figure out you actually want to share with me.” Maybe if she put that out there to the universe it would happen. Maybe the moon would listen.
“I’m not used to it.”
She nodded. “I know. And you realize this puts to an end your whole speech about not lying, about always telling the truth.”
“Betsy, it’s not exactly the same thing.”
She shook her head. “How am I going to know when you’re holding back? When you’re not telling me things you should?”
He let out a long breath. “Okay, I promise to not keep things to myself that you should hear. I promise it. I swear my oath by it.”
“Okay.” She nodded. “That’s good enough for me.” She smiled at him, but when he didn’t return one, she had to ask him again. “What’s wrong, Cyrus?”
“No one is going to kill me, Betsy. No one is going to beat me in a fight or take Manhattan from me. I’ve never been bested, and I never will.”
“Oh no?” She raised an eyebrow. Male egos were clearly all the same regardless of whether they belonged to humans or werewolves. “When you’re one hundred and ten years old, you don’t believe that it’s possible someone could come and beat you in a fight? It must be possible, Cyrus. Look what happened to Lucian.”