Chapter 23
“You’re an idiot.” Fenrir held onto his alpha as they finally made it down the final slope and onto the pavement.
After several days trapped in the cave, the weather had finally let up enough for them to leave. Technically, they could have gone out yesterday, but Fenrir had allowed Oberon to persuade him to stay a bit longer.
There had been no signs of the Wardrobe, which should have meant they had plenty of time to make their way from the cave into town. It should have been an easy trip, since the snow had melted enough.
But of course, the alpha had to trip over some rocks and sprain his ankle less than halfway there.
Night had fully fallen by the time they made it into town. Oberon directed them down a tight alley between two stone buildings, most of his weight resting on Fenrir, feet sliding through puddles of melted snow, sloshing dirty water onto his pant legs.
“Tell me we’re going to find a doctor.” Fen adjusted his grip, more upset over the man’s soiled clothing than he seemed to be. “Aren’t you freezing?”
“They’ll dry eventually,” Oberon caught on to what was bothering him. “It’s no big deal.”
“You’re a dominant alpha who can take out a small army on your own, and yet you currently need your omega to carry you through the streets because you slipped and fell.”
“Is that why you’re so annoyed?” He quirked a brow. “Don’t like having a weak alpha, precious?”
Fenrir let out a little snarl and pointedly looked ahead. “Those pants need to be thrown out.”
“Did Michelle not provide enough clothing?” Oberon asked a second later.
“Everyone in the compound wears the same thing. After I was moved to the estate, I was given a broader selection. You know those people who like to dress up their pets? That was me.”
The Wardrobe held company parties frequently enough, and the Wolf was expected to attend as Michelle’s greatest accomplishment. Everyone within the upper tier knew who Fenrir really was, but the rest had been left in the dark, told only that he was a weapon she’d been developing for years.
“I was forced to wear a mask,” he said. “Though outsiders weren’t allowed to enter the estate, even during lavish celebrations, my mistress didn’t leave anything to chance.”
“Her efforts were in vain,” Oberon scoffed. “Levi found out anyway.”
“Right.” There was something sobering about knowing he’d never stood a chance. That he’d been doomed from the start. Fenrir thought he’d been so clever at the auction, but no matter which member of the White Frost had bid on him, the end results would have been the same.
Or…maybe not.
How many alphas were as sporadic as Oberon King?
“I’m frustrated because I’m worried you’ll catch hypothermia in these wet clothes. You just had to fall into a snowbank.”
“It was either that or fall on you.”
“I would have preferred you fall on me.”
“Yes, but then we could both be injured, and that would be arguably worse.”
When Oberon had slipped, he’d purposefully pushed Fenrir away instead of grabbing onto him. That was why he’d rolled down the hill on his own, instead of accidentally taking Fen with him.
In the seclusion of the cave, Fenrir had been able to trick himself, but now…
This alpha was sincere. He’d proven himself.
And Fen had yet to tell him the truth of how they’d been discovered.
“Why’d you do it?” Fenrir’s voice dropped low as they turned onto another side street, this one decorated in strings of vibrant rainbow lights. Illuminated umbrellas dangled from the wires, water droplets catching the glow and glittering as they tumbled to the pavement.
It was a cold night and there weren’t many people out, but the sound of laughter carried on the wind every now and again, and every business they passed was open and had at least a handful of noticeable patrons.
He should be asking where they were, not about the claiming bite.
Should be insisting they get medical help, since it was becoming pretty apparent that’s not where the alpha was currently leading them.
Every establishment in the last five minutes had either been a restaurant or a pub.
“Do what?” Oberon asked. “I’ve made a lot of questionable choices this month. You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“Oh.” He tried to block out the hurt that came with that blasé statement but failed miserably.
“Were you asking about the bite?” the alpha realized. “Don’t pout, precious. Just because I said they were questionable doesn’t mean I regret any of my decisions. Especially not the one to claim you.”
“Why? We’re strangers and enemies. What possible reason—”
“One, we aren’t strangers. I know what it’s like to be inside of you. No one else can say that. That makes me special. If someone is special to you, they can’t be a stranger, can they?”
That was a ridiculous way of looking at things.
“Two, we aren’t enemies. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Michelle is a nuisance to the White Frost, but to you? You hate her.”
“I was at the auction to lure one of you in for her.”
“Sure, but—”
“How do you think they found us?” Part of Fenrir screamed at him to shut the fuck up. He’d had an alpha less than a week, and he might be about to blow it. All his comments aside, Oberon was still White Frost. They valued loyalty.
Would he leave him once he found out about his hacked multi-slate?
Oberon hadn’t asked about it once, hadn’t so much as wondered aloud how Michelle could have found them, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t thinking about it. He’d want to find the information leak, and once he did, and it led back to Fen…
There was security in being someone’s claimed omega, a security unlike anything else.
But he also didn’t want to fall for the same trick twice.
On some level, Fenrir had always known Michelle’s manipulation ran deeper than he was aware.
He simply hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it, for fear it would send him spiraling all over again.
There had to be one thing he could hold on to.
Something that gave him hope for a better future, and at the time, all he’d had were her lies to rely on.
He’d taken the coward's way out.
Never again.
Even if confronting the truth risked being abandoned by Oberon, better to discover their “bond” was that fragile now instead of later, after Fen had allowed himself to fall for him completely.
He’d confess. Tell him and see—
“This one.” Oberon stopped them in front of a single-level, gray sandstone structure.
Seeing the alpha wouldn’t be able to remain upright much longer, Fenrir acquiesced and helped Oberon with the door.
They stepped out of the chilled night and were instantly engulfed by a thick warmth that brought with it the smell of hops and cedar.
A lively tune played from hidden speakers, the volume kept low enough not to interfere with customers chatting.
Several of the tables were occupied by one or more people, but the place was homey, cluttered in a way that had Fenrir’s eyes pinging around in a poor attempt to take it all in.
The only bars he’d been to had been at hotels during those extremely rare occasions he’d been ordered to travel with Michelle, or the ones built for parties at the estate.
The clientele in those instances was upscale, and after seeing Evergreen, he’d imagined Oberon preferred those types of glitzy locations as well, but this could hardly be considered that.
Posters and postcards papered the walls, some faded and browning around the edges, others coated in dust and cobwebs. Knickknacks from various alcohol brands were chaotically displayed on random shelves, a hodgepodge collection that seemed to have lived there for years.
“O!” An extremely friendly bartender waved at them from across the room. He’d been in the process of wiping down the tabletop but tossed the rag over his shoulder and beamed at Oberon. “Fancy seeing you here. Thought you said you’d be skipping this season?”
“Change of plans.” Oberon straightened as best he could, but when they stumbled forward, it was obvious he was injured.
The bartender started around the counter, worry causing his brow to furrow.
He was too far for Fenrir to get a read on, but whatever his presentation might be, he was certainly attractive.
About a head shorter than Fen, with slightly curled light brown hair that leaned blondish under the golden light orbs.
His concern for Oberon seemed real, and when he stepped around the bar and came into full view, Fenrir got a good look at his fit form. The tight black t-shirt he was wearing did nothing to conceal the outline of his toned midsection.
Fenrir’s arm tightened around Oberon, and he bared his teeth before he could stop himself.
The bartender came to an abrupt halt a few feet away, eyes widening.
“Steve,” Oberon tipped his head toward Fen. “Meet my omega.”
The bright smile was instantly back. “Congratulations!”
Fen’s possessiveness didn’t abate, but he couldn’t act on it, especially not when Steve returned to his spot on the other side of the counter, giving them a respectable amount of space.
“Whatever you need,” Steve said to Oberon, “it’s on the house. My gift to you and…?”
“Fenrir,” he growled his name, hating that he was acting like such a prick, yet unable to reign it in.
In his defense, his Shout nature was used to dominating, and it wasn’t like jealousy was a trait strictly experienced by a single presentation.
The Shout in him wanted to bite Oberon to make a point, while the omega in him wanted to scent mark him.
He could get away with the latter…
His arm slipped lower, the gland on the inside of his wrist rubbing against Oberon’s hip. He released pheromones as he did, trying to be subtle about it.
Steve’s gaze dropped to his hand and then back up, the smile never wavering.
So much for subtle.
“We’ll take whatever’s on tap,” Oberon said. “And can you call Claudio for me?”
“Want me to tell him you’re injured?” Steve asked.
“No need.”