Protector (Wolves of Winter Creek Book 4)

4. Bad twin

It shouldn’t come as any surprise by now that I’m not so good at the whole ‘obey the Alpha’ thing the packs have going on.

Can’t help it. It’s not ingrained into me like it is the other wolves, and I only stop from needling Lucas because he’s Fallon’s mate. After what happened with her last boyfriend—and the way he tried to come onto me, getting me to cheat with him on her—she deserves a loyal, devoted male like the Alpha.

So devoted, in fact, that when Fallon mentions that she’s heading over to Bordeaux Manor—the Coven House—to meet with some of the higher-up witches, Lucas’s immediate response is to correct her and say ‘we’ are going.

“Yeah, of course, Luc. That’s our deal, right? If I’m leaving pack territory, you’re coming with.”

There goes his thumb again. As if the big guy needs to remind himself that he bonded feisty Fallon Witt to him, he strokes her neck.

I try not to snarl into my breakfast.

“Just until we can trust the witches, sucre,” rumbles Lucas.

Fallon laughs, patting the top of his hand. “So, never?”

He shrugs. “If that’s how long it takes.”

Don’t roll your eyes, Jeannie. Just because your mate rejected you, it doesn’t mean you have to shit on Fallon’s newfound happiness.

“What about you?” she asks, glancing over the table at me. “You’re up early. Any plans today?”

“With you two gone, it’s just me, right? Right,” I say, not giving either of them the chance mention the large elephant conveniently missing from the room. If Tristan was here… “Don’t worry. I’ll find something to occupy myself.”

“Just don’t leave pack territory,” Lucas warns.

I set my fork and knife down. “I’m sorry. Are you the Luna?”

“No. What kind of… no. Of course not.”

“See? Now, that’s what I thought. But then you tried to tell me what to do… and only the Luna gets to do that.”

“Jeannie…” cuts in Fallon. She waits until I look over at her to give her head a small shake. “Cool it, ‘kay? Luc’s just looking out for you.”

No. He’s being an Alpha. I know that. So does he. But Fallon… it’d be fucking hysterical if it wasn’t so sad. For years, my twin had to act the part of the peacekeeper between Fallon and me whenever we’d get into another one of our squabbles. Now it’s Fallon standing between me and her new packmates.

Who’s the common denominator there, Jeannie, huh?

“I know. And if I get homesick for a little human company, I’ll let you know if I’m heading out to scout the town square before I go. Fair enough?”

I’ve been meaning to do that. It’s the one part of Winter Creek that’s one hundred percent neutral. The town square is where the humans live and congregate, with the, like, two restaurants the small sanctuary town has, plus the handful of stores where I can get my shop on.

And, who knows? Maybe I might find someone to distract me…

The big Alpha pulls his hand back, dropping it into his lap as his gold-colored eyes train on me. “The human males are off-limits.”

I lift my eyebrows as I meet his stare. “Are they?”

Lucas sets his jaw. Poor Alpha. He’s not used to shifters looking at him dead in the eye unless it’s a challenge, and even after three months, he’s not so sure about me. For Fallon’s sake, he deals with it, but that doesn’t stop him from still thinking he can tell me what to do.

Which he does.

“To you, yes.”

I set down my fork and knife. “This is a sanctuary. I was told most of the humans here know about supes and are okay with us.”

“That’s true. But that doesn’t change anything I said.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “The human males are off-limits to any mated she-wolves. Same goes for the witches.”

I blink, then turn to glare at Fallon.

She holds up her hands, gripping her fork beneath her thumb so that she doesn’t drop it. There’s still a piece of scrambled egg coated in ketchup hanging off one of the tines. “Don’t glare at me like that, Jeannie.”

I jerk my head in the Alpha’s direction. “You told him?”

Fallon tilts her chin up at me. She might be a hybrid halfling, but that’s all wolf in the defiant expression as she says, “He’s my mate. I tell him everything.”

Not like it’s a secret. Despite the Beta being so quick to wash off my scent the first time we met, it’s hard to hide it when a shifter’s come in contact with their mate. Even if nothing ever comes of it, that initial recognition sparks the beginning of a bond. Put us anywhere near each other, and it doesn’t take a shifter with my twin’s gift to know that there’s something between us.

Or that there’s supposed to be.

Whatever. I should’ve expected that.

“Anyway, none of your rules apply to me.”

“Because you work for the Luna?” guesses Fallon, trading her fork for a piece of toast.

Usually, that’s my excuse for anything supe-related that I don’t want to deal with. But in this case?—

“No,” I say, keeping my voice flat because it’s the best way I’ve found not to tap into the Luna when I’m tiptoeing toward the edge of furiousness, bad decisions, and lost control. She might be missing right now, but getting into a pissing match with an Alpha? Even I’m not that reckless… though I do make myself clear as I tell Lucas, “Because I’m not mated.”

And with the way Tristan is purposely avoiding me without explaining why he’s leaving me on the hook or simply breaking our bond by out-and-out rejecting me so I can work toward finding a chosen mate of my own, it doesn’t look like that’s going to change anytime soon.

Lucas opens his mouth, but whatever spark of wisdom the Alpha has—and if he tries to justify this awful limbo his Beta has put me through, I might stab him in the hand with my knife—he never gets the chance to say it before a new scent comes in through the open window.

It doesn’t matter that it’s January in Winter Creek. Half the windows in the pack house are at least cracked to let in fresh air, and as a breeze wafts in, it brings with it a unique scent: a combination of sage, sea spray, and something deep and rich and impossibly mine.

I go motionless.

The Alpha’s dark gold eyes flicker over my shoulder, toward the door leading outside to the back of the house.

Oblivious as ever, Fallon nibbles on her toast as though me and her mate weren’t just sniping at each other two seconds ago.

I can’t blame her. She spent twenty-five years believing she was human. Even now that she can shift, she doesn’t have the instincts to rely on her supernatural senses the way that Lucas and I do.

Right now, my instincts are telling me: mate, mate, maaaate.

Shit. I don’t have any time to push away from the table and disappear back up the stairs. And, holy hell, does it piss me off that if I could, I would, but all I can do is shift in my seat, staring daggers at the door right as it swings inward.

Tristan eases a few steps inside of the kitchen before his head swivels in my direction.

Our eyes lock, and all I can think is: you big liar, Jeannine.

Can’t stand this male?

If only.

He’s not quick enough today. Instead of keeping his emotions off of his face like he usually does, the way his blue eyes flash, white rolling over his gaze… it’s easy to see that the Beta also wasn’t using his sniffer.

He didn’t expect me to be here.

No, Jeannie, I correct. He doesn’t want me to be here.

Lucas nods at his Beta, breaking the awkward spell that had settled over the entire kitchen. “Glad to see you, Tris. I was just gonna go out for a run, see if I could find you.”

Tristan looks relieved to have an excuse to break the unexpected eye contact with me. He lifts his hand, scratching the back of his perfectly-styled blond hair. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s ducky,” Fallon says. “Luc just wanted you to know that we’re going to the Coven House to have another sit-down with Armand and a couple of his cronies. If they’re serious about making this truce thing solid, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to let them call me Madame.”

Tristan’s brow furrows. “They’re still insisting on that? But you’re pack.”

“Right. And somebody told me that it would be the best for all us supes here if I admit that I can be coven, too.”

Me. That somebody was me. And the way Tristan’s gaze darts back over at me, he’s figured that out.

I give him a smile, making sure to show him my teeth. “Maybe if you were here instead of dodging your Beta responsibilities, you’d know what was going on.”

Oh, boy. His eyes flash beneath the old-fashioned lighting in the kitchen, and my smile widens. I think I touched a nerve.

He opens his mouth.

“She’s pack, Tristan,” Fallon says softly. “Remember that before you say something you can’t take back.”

I’m also supposed to be his fated mate, but Fallon wisely doesn’t mention that. Neither does the Alpha throw in his two cents. Mainly because, when it comes to me living in the pack house, he’s happy to let me be his mate’s responsibility.

And isn’t that a complete one-eighty to our former relationship?

Tristan stays quiet.

I don’t.

“Like I said. If you were around, you’d know that, too.”

To punctuate my admittedly bitchy tone, I give him another smile I don’t mean. How can I? It currently feels like I’m being stabbed by shards of glass all over, just being in his presence with the missing part of our rejected mate bond.

It’s been like that for almost two months. From the day Fallon found me waiting patiently in the Coven House, ready to escape whenever I felt like, the moment I saw Tristan again, I felt it. Mate bonds, when they’re forcibly broken, are jagged. When one mate formally rejects the other, it’s a clean slice.

And then there’s one mate purposely blocking the other from their side of the bond and it’s a constant ache when we’re close.

Sometimes I wonder if that’s what he’s avoiding me. That he feels it, too, and it’s a constant reminder that he can’t ignore me forever. I’m not going to be the one to reject him. If he wants to take away my chance at a true forever mate, fuck him. He can do the dirty work for a change.

I’m over it.

Only… he hasn’t. The Luna has come and gone—that blocked bond the only thing that kept me from suffering moon fever—but he insists on going on as if I don’t exist.

Now he’s forced to confront me, and I keep my eyes on him so he knows it.

Pity he’s purposely keeping his gaze on anyone and anything except for me.

“I was on patrol,” he says after a moment. “I was protecting.”

“We have a truce with the coven,” reminds Lucas. “The train to Winter Creek isn’t scheduled to roll in until the new moon. Our pack’s down to four, Tris. For the first time in seventy years, we can take a break.”

The shards twist as his pretty blue eyes—so unusual for a wolf—dart my way.

“I can’t.”

Right. Because going on his endless patrols is the perfect excuse he needs to pretend his fated mate—his rejected mate—isn’t shacked up in the pack house.

And since it doesn’t seem like he’s going to change his mind about my status any time soon, I’m not just done today.

I’m out.

My plate is half-touched. Usually, I could put away that much food easily, but you know what?

“I think I’m going to do out for a little run myself,” I say, speaking to Fallon and Fallon only. “I don’t know… it’s like I suddenly lost my appetite. Maybe a little fresh air will help me get it back.”

“Jeannie—”

I toss my hair over my shoulder. “I’m fine, Fal. And if it makes you happy, I won’t leave your pack territory.” Yet. “Good luck with the witches. Watch your back.”

“She doesn’t need to,” rumbles Lucas. “She has me.”

Of course.

And what do I have?

No Lorelei.

No Luna.

No mate…

Well, I think to myself with my tongue in my cheek, fangs cutting into the muscle, hot blood filling my mouth as I walk out the kitchen door, heading for a different exit so that I don’t have to go past Tristan…

What else should I expect when I’m the bad twin?