I blink. “What?”
“My suggestion is to tell them the truth,” he continues as though I didn’t speak. “It’ll lessen the punishment.” He wraps his palm around the back of my neck and pulls me to him in the next breath, his lips sealing over mine before I can speak. “Try to be a good girl, Clove. They won’t go too hard on you. Volt may even make sure you enjoy it.”
I’m so confused. They’re mad that I lied? About what? Being fine? They would prefer I complain about something they already know?
I shifted.
And I didn’t go into heat.
End of story.
What more can I say? What can I change? Absolutely nothing. So I am fine. I’m here. I’m safe. I’m alive. And they are welcoming me to the pack as though I’m one of their own.
When I’m very clearly not.
I’m a half-breed.
But I’m not dwelling on that, right?
Right.
Or do they think I lied about something else?
“Caius,” I start, hoping he’ll give me more information.
But he merely kisses me and starts walking me backward down the dock. By the time we reach the onboarding ramp, I’m panting.
“Mmm, yes, your slick will help,” he whispers. “Just kneel and take it. And be honest.” He nips my lower lip with the word and proceeds to guide me up the gangway to the main deck of the yacht.
Where he presses me up against a wall, cutting off my view of the luxury vessel.
His tongue steals my reply again, his skilled mouth kissing me senseless until I’m a panting mess on the ship.
“I’ll miss you, gorgeous,” he says softly. “But I mean it, Clove. Be a good girl. Kneel and beg. You’ll be fine.” He winks and escapes down the ramp while I gape after him.
“It’s not nice to lie, C,” Volt calls after him.
“But that’s the moral of the punishment, isn’t it?” he returns. “Try not to make her bleed.”
“No promises,” Volt replies as he pulls up the ramp.
He’s put on a pair of jeans.
I have nothing. Just my skin.
And I suddenly find myself very naked.
“Follow me, Clove,” he demands, leading the way as the engines start to rumble all around us. “The Captain would like a word.”
23
TIERAN
Something is bothering Clove. It started shortly after her shift, or perhaps was deepened by her shift, and led to her telling me she was fine when that clearly wasn’t the case.
I don’t appreciate lies.
I appreciate truths.
Details are not required. I won’t push her to talk to me. But I do need her to tell me when something is wrong, even if she doesn’t elaborate.
Honesty is imperative in a clan.
As Alphas, we’ll push her boundaries and reach limits that she may not be comfortable exploring, and if she doesn’t voice her concerns, we may not know we’ve gone too far until it’s too late.
And that’s unacceptable.
Tonight’s offense is obviously mild, and her punishment won’t be harsh. However, I intend to use her little lie as a teaching moment.
Because we can’t afford larger lies in the future.
“Are you all right to helm the yacht on your own?” I ask Beta Lock and Alpha Mackin. They are two of the wolves we typically take with us when sailing into the mainland.
Beta Lock is an expert yachtsman with a nautical engineering background and Alpha Mackin is an enforcer in training. He’s a lone wolf without a clan because he prefers his solitude. Which is likely why he didn’t attack us during Clove’s heat last week.
“Yep,” Beta Lock says, taking control of the steering.
I often use the time at sea to relax and take a break from work, which means I usually captain the yacht for fun. But tonight I have an Omega who requires my guidance.
So I nod my thanks and exit the bridge to head down to the cabin below.
There are five rooms built to sleep up to ten passengers. It’s not a large yacht, but it’s sizable enough to help transport several wolves at once.
It’s not what we would use for an island evacuation—we have speed boats for that purpose. Just in case.
The yacht is more about comfort and style.
It also adds to our overall grandeur, which is important for our public image—something our clients appreciate. After all, I am the expected heir to my father’s global enterprise.
And humans love stalking the rich and famous.
However, my current status with the Elders forces me to maintain a low profile. Hence, we use gimmicks—such as the yacht—to maintain a presence without being seen.