Mate (Bride, #2) (87)

“Maybe it is.” He smiles, a little lopsided, like he has made peace with this. “But we are not Human.” He stands, and I can no longer see his

expression well. Which, I suspect, is precisely the way he wants it. Because after a pause in which he doesn’t take his eyes off me, he says, “My mother was the previous Alpha of the Northwest. And my father was her mate.”

My heart is in my throat. This is why he asked to talk. What he meant to tell me. So I fist my hands around the edge of the bench and listen.

“They met young. Teens. They said they knew it immediately, which I was always skeptical about. It was hard to imagine that you could find a person, and they’d instantly become everything. That they’d take up all the space inside you and leave no room for doubt. Of course, now . . .” He shrugs. Reaches forward to free a strand of hair stuck to my lips. “I’ve changed my mind. But . . . Well, their bond was mutual. They paired up, were ready for a life together— until the previous Alpha of the Northwest, who’d been a great leader for several decades, lost a challenge to some twenty-year-old piece of shit.

“Highly dominant Weres tend to have other traits, too. Not just strength, but also calm under duress, integrity, empathy. The new Alpha did not, and all of a sudden, the head of the pack was a jackass who couldn’t be trusted with slicing a meatloaf, let alone deciding how to maximize resource allocation. Everyone was scared shitless. So, about two weeks into his leadership, my mother took him in the challenge and saved the day. Except, she happened to be pregnant. With me.”

I clench my teeth. “Was she allowed to . . . ?”

He shakes his head. “They call it ‘the celibacy covenant,’ but it’s a misnomer. It puts all the focus on the sex, when what’s really forbidden to Alphas is to form bonds that might interfere with their ability to serve the pack. An Alpha’s decisions should always benefit the Northwest. An Alpha’s family could serve as a tool of manipulation. Therefore, an Alpha shouldn’t have one.”

“But what about an Alpha’s siblings? Those bonds can be just as strong.

What about parents, or friends? What about platonic relationships, or— ”

“Believe me, I know. It’s old-fashioned, flawed reasoning, and that’s why most packs did away with it a while ago. But the Northwest had no reason to worry about it for decades after most packs began having these discussions. My mother was the moment of reckoning. The huddles didn’t stand for it. Became independent. But we didn’t close the borders. Socially, we were still one pack, even as each huddle leader made their own decisions. But we wouldn’t always share information. And we had different

perceptions of what constituted a threat. And that’s where things started to go wrong.

“I was born. About five years later, my sister was born, Anki— she lives with her mate in the south.” His mouth twitches. “My parents figured that if one of us was going to inherit all those Alpha traits, it would be her. But she took after my dad, who was a musician with no interest in pack leadership.

And when it became obvious that I was likely to be the next Alpha, they were relieved. My mother was beloved, and I would take over when she was ready to step down. No need for challenges. The shit Lowe went through with Roscoe? I didn’t have to worry about that. Until the cult, at least. Because Constantine was out there, taking advantage of fools, promising them they’d run with the wolves, and . . .” He snorts. “Only Humans would believe this shit. No offense.”

“None taken. Well, some taken.”

He doesn’t smile. “Constantine was intelligent. And greedy. And as the cult grew and he kept making promises that he couldn’t keep, he decided that what he and his followers needed was an enemy, and maybe a kingdom that was their due but had been wrongfully taken from them. He told his followers that as soon as they took back their birthright, they would become all-powerful, immortal Weres.”

I’m starting to feel nauseous. “Was that kingdom the Northwest?”

“And the villain, my mother.” He runs a hand through his hair, and the movement angles his face just so, enough for me to see his expression. I was sure he would look angry, and he does. I didn’t expect so much sadness. “The details aren’t important. But Constantine and his followers exploited the lack of communication between the core and the peripheral huddles. They killed my mother and made sure that the pack knew it was under threat. When the adults in the pack gathered to discuss how to react, Constantine carried out a series of coordinated attacks that wiped out all our leadership and most of our adult members. Thousands of people died. And .

. . we just had to step up. Amanda, Saul, Jorma, Brenna, me— hundreds of us. We didn’t even have a chance to mourn our families. There was a power vacuum, and the cult was trying to use it to take over, and we had to react quickly. Those are some pretty fucked-up memories for a bunch of teens to have to carry. But when I’m about to fall asleep at night, that’s not what I think about.” He swallows. “You know what is, Serena?”

I wish I didn’t. All I want is to have come to the wrong conclusion.

“What your mother did.”

He nods, and it breaks my heart. “They used my father to lure her out.

And even though everyone told her it was a trap, even though her seconds were forming a plan, the idea of my father suffering was so untenable, she refused to wait. And honestly?” He squats down again. Locks eyes with me, so that there is no misunderstanding him. “Now that I’m in the same position, I’m not sure that I wouldn’t do the same.”