Chapter Forty-Two
F ORTY - T WO
The horses do follow us. Once we reach the edge of the property, the wolves transform, and Ann and I ride, with Tabitha sitting behind Ann.
Oliver leads the way. He grew up here and knows the terrain better than anyone.
I have no idea where we are. Full dark falls, and I ride through endless fields and forests, the flicker of farm and village lights in the distance my only proof that we haven’t fallen into a portal to another world.
Beryl doesn’t give chase. If she has werewolves, they don’t find our trail.
Or she lets us go, running with our tails between our legs.
I know how bitter a pill that is for Bishop to swallow, and I can vow to support him as much as I can, but I also know he won’t dwell on the humiliation of it, not while there are plans to be made.
Sometimes you need to run and hide, so you can fight another day.
We keep going until the horses and the wolves can’t continue, and then we take refuge in a forest clearing. The wolves transform back while Ann and I let the horses drink from a nearby creek. We don’t tie them up. Whether they stay with us or not is their choice.
Bishop makes the rounds, checking in with all the wolves as Julius and I tend to hands and feet battered by the punishing run. Then everyone finds a place to sleep.
Bishop leads me to a spot a little away from the others, in a patch of long grass, where we curl up together. We have privacy, but there’s no question of doing anything with it.
Not tonight.
Tonight is for kissing his throat, his jaw, his chest, and whispering that I believe in him, that I know he can do this.
Tonight is for him stroking my hair and burying his face in it and murmuring that he’s so glad I’m safe, so glad I stayed.
It’s the simple pleasure of skin against skin, bodies entwined, Bishop’s trousers draped over us for warmth.
We rest in each other’s arms, curled close. His heat warms my numb skin and his heartbeat lulls me, as does his breathing, his face buried in my hair.
“Are you asleep?” he asks after a while.
“No. Do you want to talk?”
He adjusts his hold on me. “Is that all right? If you’re tired…”
I lift my head to kiss his chin. “I’m never too tired to listen to you.”
He goes silent, and when I look at him, he says, “I haven’t told you why I did all this. Joined the Pack. Challenged Silas. I haven’t told you anything, really. About me. And now we’re…”
He trails off and then clears his throat. “I meant what I said. It’s only a piece of paper, and I will find a way to undo it. You only need to say the word.”
“Tell me about you,” I say.
He exhales, as if relieved that I don’t say, Yes, I want our marriage annulled as soon as possible. He would keep his word, but it’s the absolute last—and least consequential—task to heap on his plate.
Is that why he’s relieved. Or…?
I don’t chase that thought because if I do, I need to chase it for myself too. I hate how our marriage—our mating—happened. But is ending it the last thing on my mind because there’s too much going on? Or because ending it never really was on my mind?
I look at Bishop. “Tell me why you joined the Pack.”
He settles in, our legs entwining, his fingers on my hip.
“My grandfather was exiled from it, as I think you heard. For good reason. Julius and I grew up hearing stories of the Pack, of this wonderful life our fathers had been part of. They were only boys when they left, and what happened afterward was… not good. With my grandfather. They did everything they could to distance themselves from him as they grew up, including changing their surname. But the hell of life outside the Pack also colored their memories of life inside it, smoothing out any rough edges. To them, it was like being thrown out of paradise. That’s what the Pack was to them.
Paradise and Camelot in one. Family. Brotherhood. Strength. Loyalty. Safety.”
He goes quiet, as if drifting in those memories. Then he says, “That’s what Julius and I grew up on. Those stories. What it’d been like living with dozens of uncles who would shield them from their father and taught them how to be men and wolves.”
He shifts to meet my gaze, his lips curving in a faint smile.
“They remembered Silas’s mother—your grandmother—who was always kind to them, and Ann’s mother, a girl who’d played and raced horses with them.
Silas was a spoiled prince, but Oliver was a sweet little boy who ran at their heels and begged for stories.
It was their perfect life, and all they ever wanted was to go back. ”
“But they couldn’t? Even after they were older?”
“Your grandfather forbade it. After what my grandfather put him through, he’d never risk having another Danvers in his Pack, no matter what they called themselves or how different they were.
My father and uncle tried to rejoin after your father ascended to Alpha, but it didn’t help.
They were cast out of paradise forever. So, when I was twelve, I declared I’d start my own Pack. ”
I smile and look up at him. “Of course you did.”
“At first, it was for my father. And my uncle and Julius. The dream of a little boy who wanted to make his family happy and keep them safe. Except my father believed I could actually do it. So it became our special project. Raising me to be an Alpha.”
“Which you wanted?”
He nods. “I did.” A quick smile. “I like being in charge. You may have noticed that.”
“I have.”
“When I got older, I started seeking out other wolves. It wasn’t easy. The only ones willing to follow me were young.”
“Bishop’s boys.”
“Yes. Then…” A sharp inhale. “My father was injured. Fatally wounded. In a fight that killed my uncle—Julius’s father.
My father and I had some time together before he died, and he said that I deserved more than a ragtag bunch of pups.
He said the Albion Pack needed me. It was falling apart under Silas, and the wolves were suffering for it.
So that should be my goal. Not to start my own Pack, but to take over the Albion one.
He told me to find Claude—he’d known him as a child and he’d heard that Claude had had enough of Silas and left with his young son. ”
“Felix.”
Bishop nods. “So I did that. Tracked Claude down. I had to prove myself, of course, but when I did, Claude agreed with my father. I could overthrow Silas, and I could make the Pack what it had been— better than it had been.” A twitch of his lips.
“Claude’s view of the Pack was a little less rose-colored than my father and uncle’s.
He saw problems stretching back before Silas’s Alphahood. So we started plotting. And now…”
He inhales sharply. “Now, Claude is dead, and the Pack is in tatters, driven from Trevelyan, and I should be cowed. I flew too near the sun. Melted my wings.”
He looks at me. “Except I don’t feel like that, Delia.
I’m furious and I’m heartsick, and I made mistakes.
I was so caught up in challenging Silas that I didn’t foresee the danger to you, the danger to your aunt, the fact that Silas had a deal with your grandmother.
I accept blame for that. But the rest of it? What your grandmother did to my Pack?”
“That isn’t your fault.”
“Yes,” he says simply. He meets my gaze. “Is that pride? It feels like it. As if I should be prostrating myself to the gods for my hubris.”
“What good would that do? How would that help the Pack?”
He lets out a slow breath and kisses my forehead.
“That’s it exactly. Thank you. Whatever happened—even if I will wholeheartedly accept my share of the blame—groveling doesn’t fix anything.
This is my Pack now. My responsibility. Not just to lead it but to bring it back, stronger than ever. I think I know a way to do that.”
I laugh softly. “Of course you do.”
He lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “It was a long run from the house. I had time to think. I’ll reach out to other Packs, reforge old alliances.
Silas made enemies. I always intended to repair the damage, but I hoped to go to them as a victorious new Alpha, not a supplicant, hat in hand, begging for help. ”
“I can’t imagine you ever begging. What happened was Silas’s fault, and if he broke those old alliances, other Packs should be happy to help reforge them—and help you.”
A low noise in his throat. “‘Happy’ might be pushing it.”
“A cabal drove out the Albion Pack. Massacred it. I can’t imagine other werewolf Packs will want that to set a precedent.”
“True.”
I kiss him again. “ Very true. You’ll show them how it’s to their advantage to help, and you’ll do it without admitting to any personal failure or weakness.”
He goes quiet for a few minutes and then says, “And where do you fit in all this?”
My voice drops. “I don’t know. Where do I fit? Is my grandmother going to come after me? Should you leave me behind?”
“No.” The word comes sharp and then he sucks in breath. “This is the problem. I want to say I can keep you safe. That you need to stay with me. But am I saying that because I believe it? Or because I want it?”
“You’ve kept me safe so far.”
A snorted laugh. “I think you’ve done just as much. Keeping yourself safe. Keeping us both safe.”
“Then maybe that’s the answer. We’re safest together. Looking out for each other.”
When he hesitates, my heart stops, and I whisper, “But that’s not what you want.”
He ducks to catch my gaze. “It’s absolutely what I want.
But I want it too much, and I can’t trust my own judgment.
I need staying to be your choice, but when I look at you, when I hear your voice, when I smell you…
something just…” He swallows. “I tell myself that I have to let you go, if that’s what you want, but then there’s this little voice that whispers wife, and whispers mate, and whispers mine, and I’m…
” A sharp breath. “I’m afraid if you try to leave, I’ll stop you. ”
I back up to look him in the eyes. “You’re afraid your wolf will demand I stay, as your mate, and you won’t be able to control it.”
“Yes.”
“Has that ever happened, Bishop?” I shake my head. “You are always in control. Of yourself, and of the wolf.”
One brow rises. “Are you forgetting that little incident in the cell?”
I sputter a laugh. “Oh, that’s different. You need to lose control like that more often. It’s good for you. Healthy.”
He laughs softly and shakes his head.
I meet his gaze. “If you say I’m free to go, then I am not the least bit worried that you’ll hold me hostage against your own will, Bishop. You have too much control for that. You also have far too much ego to want someone who doesn’t want you back.”
His lips twitch. “True. So you will stay? For now?”
For now? No, forever. I want to stay forever.
The thought terrifies me, and I instinctively pull back, as if from hot coals.
Not yet. I’m not ready for that yet.
I look into his eyes and say, “Yes, I want to stay,” and he pulls me into his arms and kisses me, and I snuggle down in his arms. Around us, everything is still and silent. The smell of him fills me, and all I can feel is the beat of his heart, all I can hear is the soft sound of his breathing.
We can do this. We can answer all my questions about my family. We can resurrect the Albion Pack. Together, we can do this and after that…
After that…
I start to drift, the tug of sleep telling me that question isn’t important yet, it will answer itself eventually.
I’ve nearly drifted off when I hear Bishop whisper, so softly he must think I’m asleep.
“I’m going to give you a Pack you’ll be proud of, Delia. A Pack that will call you my wife and call you my mate… and call you Alpha. The first Alpha female of the Albion Pack.”
My lips curve up as I cuddle into him and pretend to be asleep.
What will happen when all this is done?
Maybe that.
A werewolf Pack with an Alpha male… and an Alpha female.
Yes, maybe that.