35. Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Four
Ash
W e’re barely inside the large wooden front door when the shouting starts.
“What the fuck happened back there!?” Mavren barks, blocking Teddy from taking off up the stairs and toward the mezzanine patio.
“I don’t know why you’re riding my dick so hard,” Teddy growls, squaring up with Mavren—the two almost nose to nose. “He’s a douche from a pack I didn’t decide to court—precisely because I didn’t like him or his damn omega.” Teddy’s voice is low and guttural as he and Mavren begin to strafe one another, still a hair’s breadth apart.
While I’m similarly frustrated by the unfolding of this afternoon’s events, as a delta within the pack without my place in the hierarchy in danger of being displaced,most of my worry had been abated when Kimmy and Timmy had pulled our pack aside to issue a warning about the physical altercation while also informing us that Anton had been issued a similar warning about putting hands on another contestant on the show without their consent—as he’d been on the precipice of doing when Lysander interceded. Though we had been advised that these would be the first and final warnings for all parties involved; Kimmy and Timmy admitted they doubted there would be any further issue—and believed our apologies to be genuine.
Even without the prospect of being kicked off the show, I found my adrenals rising again with things really going sideways now that we’d all gotten back to the villa; the proper venue for airing grievances and getting answers.
“Bullshit,” Ronan pipes up from the peanut gallery, hands on his hips.
“Can it, Ronan, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Teddy snipes back—his eyes never leaving Mavren’s.
At the edge of my vision, I catch sight of Lysander and Ursula. Ursula, holding her breath—standing on tip-toe; like a bird at the edges of a forest—preparing to take flight at the first sight of flame, the first sound of gunfire. Lysander, full of beautiful lamentation like a martyring portrait; his sorrowful frown carved deep into his face, his large brown eyes watery with pain.
I want to scoop them up and take them away from this conflict—this blemish on our otherwise perfect stay in paradise; but I’m also angry with Teddy and his strange behavior, my old doubts and distrust newly inflamed by Anton’s cryptic attacks on Teddy’s character.
“Don’t tell him it’s bullshit. We all saw you ducking Lysander in front of Anton,” I back Ronan up while doing my best to keep my voice calm and level.
There’s a distinct temperature change in the room as Teddy flinches at my words.
“And what the fuck was that business about you ‘being the same’?” Lysander jumps in, having found his voice through his hurt feelings.
Teddy’s knife sharp posture softens, his jaw unclenching as he steps back from Mavren—the fight gone out of him; his hands fluttering up to cover his face—moving slowly back through his hair as he lets out a long hissing breath.
“Listen, I’m not proud of it—but when I first met Anton in Britt’s pack lounge, he and I kind of did a bit of shit talking,” Teddy explains carefully. “But that’s all it was—shit talking, the kind of stuff that you shouldn’t say but you end up saying because some other dude just assumes you’re part of the club and it’s easier to go along and play nice rather than make waves.” Teddy spreads his hands wide—making his case.
“Ok, fine—that explains how that douche nozzle was under the impression you were bros.” Mavren waves the idea off like a persistent fly on a summer day. “But what about the fact that you totally fucking bailed on your omega when you knew that Britt was going to be a problem.” Mavren glowers at him.
“I wasn’t thinking straight,” Teddy pleads, beginning to make tight pacing loops inside the rest of the pack circled around him. “I know that it’s not exactly an attractive admission, but I’m not really used to looking out for anyone other than myself,” Teddy flounders, his hands turned palm up as if in request—though he hasn’t actually apologized or asked for forgiveness. “I saw Anton and the other dipshits from Britt’s lounge and just bugged the fuck out. I tried to avoid him, but he was obviously the one determined to make trouble about it—and now I’m the one paying for it.”
A stifling silence falls over the room.
Lysander is the first to break it.
“Are you…ashamed of me? Of our pack?” he asks plainly, his voice small and laced with such sorrow that Ursula begins to cry silently as soon as the words have left his lips.
I find myself poised—to do what—I’m not sure. The energy has shifted down—my calming scent or purring wouldn’t be of much use. Not to mention, Lysander could put all of us down for an evening nap if he were so inclined. So, all I can do is wait.
“Of course I’m not ashamed of you!” Teddy’s face breaks into a pained expression—his body suddenly in motion toward Lysander, his hands outstretched.
Mirroring the earlier events of the day, Lysander turns away from him—denying Teddy the comforting reassurance of his touch.
“Then why did you shrug me off? Why wouldn’t you let me take your hand?” Lysander sniffles, his eyes fixed on his own bare feet on the concrete.
Teddy makes a strangled sound that isn’t quite a word, his hand still hanging in the air between them.
“How come I was the one who had to stand up to that bully?” Lysander sniffles, his tone shifting to indignance, his head lifting to look Teddy in the eyes—tears and snot running down his beautiful, boyish face. “I had thought you were going to be my pack lead someday…but you just let him treat me like shit, you let him talk badly about Ursula, and if I hadn’t stepped in—you would have let him put hands on her,” Lysander practically spits the last at Teddy with tangible contempt—anger rising in me as his words ring true in my heart.
“Lysander…” Teddy breathes, his own eyes welling with tears.
“So Teddy,” I clear my throat, stepping out from the background to intercede. “No posturing, no bullshit—you have the floor now. Better make that explanation a good one, or there will be one less member of Pack Gold moving into Redthorn,” I make the threat without having consulted Mavren, Ursula, or even Lysander—but I can tell by the set of Mavren’s jaw, the gently tremulous posture of Ursula as she attempts to hold back her tears, Ronan’s steadily bobbing nod, and Lysander’s hard black-coffee stare that I have spoken with the authority of the pack all the same.
“Ash,” Teddy reaches one golden hand—his splayed fingers stopping just short of my chest, weeping as he wordlessly beseeches me for some kind of help.
I remain cold, impassive—unyielding.
Teddy squeezes his eyes closed—taking a deep breath to fortify himself before he continues.
“I’m a coward.” He shakes his head slowly—his eyes opening, turning to Lysander. “I’ve been that guy for my entire life. Good looking, not particularly bright—given opportunity and accolades for simple shit. Showing up, being able to do things well with my body, looking good—making other people feel good somehow by just looking good around them,” he continues—mania building as he starts pacing—his eyes turning from Lysander, to Ursula—then Mavren, Ronan, and I. “I’ve always taken the path of least resistance—which often means playing up the whole dumb meathead angle.” He putters to a stop—his pacing dying out, leaving him stranded at the center of the circle. “Nobody has ever challenged me when I just fell back on the easy excuse of being a himbo who could skate by on his good looks—no one until Ursula, that is.” Teddy turns his face to Ursula, a weak smile lifting the corners of his lips for an imperceptible second before he turns to Lysander.
“I had always sort of viewed myself a certain way—and not in a good way, definitely in a shitty macho kind of way.” He runs a hand back through his hair with a pained expression. “I’m used to guys like Anton—which is why it was so easy to sink into shitty habits being around him. Talking shit I didn’t mean, acting like I’m hot shit and better than people because—what? How I look? Muscle tone and smooth skin that will be gone in a decade—my strength and coordination a fucking fading memory.” He’s cry-laughing at himself now, and I can’t help but feel for the guy.
It may not be at all similar to my experience, but I can respect that Teddy is baring his soul—telling his truth, and it is costing him dearly.
“I’m a fucking coward because I was afraid for Anton to see us together, I was afraid he’d call me one of those ugly fucking names that kids at school called my moms while I was growing up.” He hiccups down a sob, the tears streaming down his face. “I was worried that he’d make fun of me for being with Ursula—the way shitty guys like him make fun of anyone who doesn’t fit the impossible beauty standards set out by magazines, music videos, and Hollywood.” Teddy wipes at his eyes with the backs of his hands—Mavren and Ronan having left their posts as guardians of the circle to provide physical support to the sobbing Ursula and Lysander, respectively.
“I understand if you can’t forgive me for being such a fucking spineless worm, if you say the word—I’ll pack my bags and never trouble you again.” Teddy does his best to reign in his sobbing, but his body gently heaves with his muted blubbering.
“Are you sorry?” The words come from my mouth before I can take them back—my own voice watery with tears.
Until Lysander mentioned it earlier, I hadn’t consciously realized that I had already begun thinking about Teddy as my pack leader. Technically, it would be a toss up between him and Mavren, the two alphas in our pack—but something about Teddy had just felt so purely alpha…I had begun to imagine him in the position.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” Teddy keens, pressing his palms together as if in prayer as he looks to me in desperation.
“And this is the last time this shit happens, right?” I sniffle indignantly—fixing him with my most piercing stare.
Teddy returns my stare—frozen in place.
“This cowardly, fake self-preservation bullshit ends here. You acknowledge all of your pack members and our relationships to one another,” I assert, Teddy’s hands parting—one of his palms laid over his heart.
“I promise.”
“You put Ursula, your goddamn omega and the very heart of this pack, above everything else.” I continue, my hands balled into fists at my side.
“On my life.” Teddy weeps quietly, his jaw set.
“Your days of shallow fuckboy fuckery are over—Pack Gold is your responsibility, your treasure. You protect each and every one of us and our connection, with your life, from this moment forth—do you swear it?” I press—the air in the room charged with raw emotion.
“I swear it, on my life—on my blood, on my mothers and my mother’s mothers,” Teddy makes his final vow, solemn and steadfast.
The words are no sooner out of his mouth before Ursula flings herself at Teddy and I—her arms flying out to hook us each around the neck—her body convulsing between us with the power of her sobs.
Lysander followed but a second later, Ronan and Mavren regarding me with cautious, exhausted looks—eyes nearly hollowed out from the intensity of the last few minutes; before they too, collapse around us—the entirety of Pack Gold tangled in a sniffling, sobbing, snotty group hug.