20. Bastian
Bastian
She was having sex with my clanmates.
Deep down, I knew it was coming. I could see the way they looked at each other. There was only so long the mate bond could be avoided. Despite my best efforts, even I was starting to succumb to my desire for Rowan.
But that didn’t mean I was happy about it.
Yes, I was being an ass. I was well aware of that fact—my clanmates told me on a regular basis. Nix had woken me up by throwing pillows at my head and calling me a bastard several times, but there was something in my gut telling me that the situation was wrong.
Until I knew exactly what had happened, I doubted I would be able to settle. As long as we had no clue, it could happen again. Opening myself up to that kind of pain again seemed like an invitation to years of agony. And I’d already been through enough.
I’d been working on the roof of the old McCreevy cabin for several days now, and my body was starting to hurt. So, it wasn’t much of a surprise when I woke up in the morning with a splitting headache.
Fuck.
I was groggy as hell, my mouth tasting off, and between the typical aches and pains and this mother of all migraines, I felt like complete shit.
It wasn’t the normal kind of temple throbbing, either.
It was the kind that meant light hurt and every little sound made me want to strangle someone.
Hell, jumping off a bridge sounded pretty damn good.
But there was no bridge jumping in my future. I had too much shit to do around here, and I couldn’t trust anyone else to do it the way I wanted. I had my clanmates, sure, but they were only three people, and being the fourth made all the difference.
So… work.
“Jesus Christ, who pissed in your cornflakes this morning?” Orsen asked when I came into the dining hall.
“Headache,” I grumbled, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“In that case, why don’t you go get some rest?”
“No, I’m finishing the roof,” I groaned, grabbing an apple as I strode out of the den.
There was no way in hell I was going to shirk my responsibilities, not after the way Rowan had spoken to me. I was going to show her that I did have the best interests of the horde at heart, no matter what she might have thought.
Even if it kills me in the process.
As I approached the cabin, each of my steps felt heavier, and yeah, I knew I was being a tiny bit dramatic about everything. So, sue me. I wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed and pretend the world didn’t exist for a day.
I didn’t have that luxury, though. I never had, and I had a feeling I never would.
The sun was only just starting to rise, so it wasn’t too warm outside. I clambered onto the roof and got to work, replacing the broken shingles.
I liked manual labor. There was something about it that was weirdly relaxing. Rhythmic and easy to get lost in. Once I started my work, the pain became less apparent, and I lost myself in the simple routine, the Zen art of shingle repair.
In fact, I didn’t realize how much time had passed until someone shouted my name from the ground. But the headache came screaming back at me when I recognized the voice.
Shit.
My father.
“What the hell are you doing up there?” he shouted.
“What does it look like? I’m repairing a roof,” I said, holding the hammer aloft.
Judging by his darkening expression, he didn’t like my sarcastic response. And as much as I would have just backed down on any other day, the pain in my damned head was making me especially moody.
“You should be getting someone else to do that. That work is below you,” he shot back, disgust plastered all over his face.
“Below me?” I reeled, echoing his icy stare. “No work is below me, especially when it helps the horde. I would think you’d agree with that.”
My father had been extra vocal of late. Over the past several years, he’d allowed me and my clanmates to run the horde without interference, but now he seemed to have an opinion on every little thing I did. It was exhausting.
Sighing, I put the hammer down and made my way from the roof and onto the porch, where he was waiting. A few steps behind him was Tanner, his little helper.
“What can I do for you?” I asked, wiping my hands on a rag I found lying around.
The pain in my head was getting worse, the pressure building. I had no time to deal with anyone’s bullshit, least of all my father and his lapdog.
“We need to talk about the trouble that human has caused. Byron is going to lose his mind. Yes, his horde is small, but he could cause problems.”
I took a deep breath, steeling myself. My father had been banging on about this since the day we had brought Rowan home with the new family in tow.
“I’ve been overruled,” I replied, hoping a simple answer would do the trick.
“Well, you shouldn’t be,” he blustered. “You are the son of the Alpha. You are the rightful Alpha of this horde. Those three aren’t.”
I paused. He had never outright said that he didn’t see my clanmates as rightful Alphas. I’d suspected as much, but hearing it so frankly was something else.
“And what exactly do you mean by that?” I asked, cocking a brow.
“You are Alpha by blood. You should have the deciding vote. You were raised to be an Alpha. The others weren’t. They have no idea what it takes to be a real Alpha.”
I resisted the urge to snort, bile burning the back of my throat.
Yes, he’d raised me to be an Alpha. If by that he meant that he had been cruel, neglectful, and had hardly shown me any kindness growing up, because he wanted me to be the hard, unkind Alpha he had been, then yes, he had indeed raised me.
“The horde loves having a baby around. I’m not changing it,” I said. “We can try and figure out some way to placate Byron.”
“I know him better than you do,” my father insisted, stepping forward.
“I’m sure you do.” I ran a hand through my hair to disguise the growing pain. “But if we try to return Allison now, I’m pretty sure our horde would riot.”
He shook his head. “You’re too soft on them. You allow your horde to dictate what you do. You are the Alpha.”
“Dad…” I trailed off, already too tired to keep this up. Fighting with my father was a high-energy sport, and I was running on fumes.
“Don’t use that tone with me. You know I’m right. You need to step up and be a man, an Alpha.”
I really didn’t have the energy for this. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I growled low and threatening as my temper flared.
Could he fuck off? For like two goddamn seconds.
“Unless you have a solution to the problem that doesn’t involve exiling that couple and their baby, I don’t want to hear it. I need to get going.”
“And just where do you think you’re going?”
“I’ve got a headache,” I explained shortly, not looking to discuss this.
“You’d better not be going to her,” my father spat, obvious disgust multiplying on the last word.
“Rowan is the best—and only—healer we’ve got right now, and if I don’t take something to get rid of this headache, I’m going to burn this entire fucking cabin to the ground.”
“Maybe you should. Griffin doesn’t deserve this.”
I looked at my father—truly looked at him for the first time in a while. The old, weathered dragon really had no clue. Worse, I didn’t think he wanted one. He clearly only cared about what he deemed best for the horde—and himself.
“Griffin has been loyal to this horde for years. In fact, he’s stepped in when my clanmates or I have been unable to. Are you saying that isn’t loyal enough to deserve a reward?” I asked in a low, dangerous voice.
“No, that should be rewarded, of course, but you’re only giving him this stupid cabin because of that human.”
“Rowan. Her name is Rowan,” I said, my tone clipped. No matter how I felt about her, I still respected her new name.
The two of us glared at each other, neither of us backing down, and I could feel discomfort leaking off Tanner. My head throbbed harder, making it difficult to focus.
“I’ve had enough of this conversation,” I said, turning to leave.
“You need to find another healer.”
“Not going to happen anytime soon,” I growled, thundering down the path toward the clinic.
Thankfully, my father didn’t follow.