Chapter 13 - Rosalia
The next few weeks passed, Rosalia’s surface wounds faded completely, and the ones that lay deeper beneath also began to twinge with the first itching creep of healing.
She found herself, somewhat surprisingly, to be rather happy.
It wasn’t just her relationship with Rick. Something about the attack had strengthened her decision out there in the cold and mud, and it stuck fast, down to her very marrow. She found herself going into town, reaching out to the other women, looking forward to each sunrise.
She was becoming an Iron Walker. And not just in name. In her being.
As Rick guided her through the excited throngs of people, his hand warm and gentle, she couldn’t help but lean into his touch, enjoy the strength of his presence behind her. They stopped towards the edge of the gathering, and he didn’t remove his hand.
She glanced up and smiled at him.
He didn’t smile back, but the corners of his eyes crinkled ever so slightly, the ever-present caution and cunning there softening into something that made her heart squeeze.
Ever since that night, the very first night that they had spent together, everything had changed.
He was still Rick. That much was certain. Still cool and calculating. Still prone to long evenings shut away in his office, still suffering foul tempers after a pack meeting didn’t go exactly the way he wanted.
But he was beginning to let her in.
Just in small ways. An invitation to sit with him at breakfast. New books on law and politics are waiting for her on her dresser.
He’d decided she had a talent for such things and was eager to cultivate it in her.
At first, she had humored him, reading through articles and textbooks, but had discovered a growing interest in it that was uniquely hers.
It was small, undernourished after so many years of being told all she was good for was looking pretty and polite small talk, but it was there.
And it thrilled her to her core. She’d grown closer with Lola, who, despite the late stage of her pregnancy, still insisted on long hours at the library researching.
Rosalia would join her, ask her a million questions, and bring her findings back to Rick with an almost childish delight.
Then, of course, there were the nights they spent together. It had only happened a few times since the first, and never planned. Rosalia could sense that, despite his instincts, he was being cautious. Reserved. Holding back. Or rather, not letting her in all at once.
When they did sleep together, it was better than anything Rosalia could have ever imagined. Sensual and intense, burning and wild.
But then she’d wake up to an empty bed.
She tried not to take it to heart. It was understandable. Rick hardly seemed the type to be careless with his heart or his affection. But still, she found herself craving more.
“I’m surprised Dane survived the experience of Lola giving birth,” Rick murmured into her ear, breaking her from her thoughts, nodding towards the male in question. “He nearly took Nicolas’s eye out at one point.”
Rosalia chuckled. “Well, I heard that Lola promised to grind his balls into glue for one of her book rebindings if he so much as looked her way ever again.”
Rick snorted, the sound so unlike him that Rosalia couldn’t help the smile that pulled at her lips.
It was hard not to be happy. Lola had given birth to a healthy baby girl, and the whole pack had come together to celebrate. Some of their allies as well, members of neighboring packs, some of Nicolas’s New York contacts.
A new birth in a pack was always a time for celebration.
But as she looked around Nicolas’s garden, from a flustered Lola cradling a baby in the center of the room to Dane’s hollering cheers of celebration to the children squealing and laughing and running through people’s legs, she couldn’t help the kernel of anxiety taking root in her gut.
Felix was also on the edge of the gathering, Nicolas at his side, the two talking in hushed tones. Many Iron Walker alphas, enforcers mostly, patrolled the perimeter, looking the very picture of casual celebrants.
But they weren’t. Their eyes were too watchful. Their muscles are too tense. Their eyes tracked every foreign visitor to the gathering, their lips moving. When one turned, Lola saw a tiny wire running behind his ear and disappearing down his shirt.
“All these people,” she said quietly, turning to look at Rick, “they’ve not just been invited for the celebration, right?”
Rick cocked an eyebrow. “Oh?”
Rosalia turned back to Felix, to the tight set of his jaw, “It’s a show of strength.”
“Clever girl,” Rick murmured, pulling her closer against him to speak low tones into her ear, “the Black Claws haven’t declared war, but Felix knows it’s inevitable.
I killed their heir. Raph wants blood. We need to show the other pack that not only are we strong, but we also flourish.
And should it come to battle, we will be victorious. ”
“How can you be so sure?” Rosalia asked, turning around. She had known. Of course, she had. While Rick hadn’t said anything directly about it, there was no question at all that something was coming.
Something big.
And word was spreading. Even Katie had heard, writing to ask Rosalia if she was okay, if she was scared of the oncoming storm.
Rick’s smile was savage. “Because I’ve nearly finished certain…preparations. Preparations that will knock the legs out from under the Black Claws before they’ve even had a chance to draw their knives.”
Rosalia swallowed and didn’t say anything more. Rick had been utterly unrepentant about murdering the heir to the Black Claws. She had heard him one night arguing with Felix about it, saying that he should have taken longer. Should have savored it.
Such brutality might have scared her. Instead, it thrilled her.
But still, she worried. The Black Claws didn’t know that it was Rick who had killed Carter. The three bodies of the wolves had been dumped at the border, iron nails driven into their skulls. An ancient battle cry of the Iron Walkers, apparently. And a warning.
She had thought Felix might prefer greater diplomacy. But Cassie had whispered to her one morning in the library that for all his honor, all his decency, Felix was still a wolf at heart. And he did not flinch when doing what needed to be done.
Suddenly, Rick stiffened behind her, a low growl erupting from his chest. Rosalia glanced over to the gate.
Her father and some of his men were striding through, their expression blank.
“I don’t recall them being invited,” Rick hissed, both hands at her hips now, holding her tight.
Rosalia swallowed. “They’re our allies. Of course, they were invited.”
Rick didn’t answer, and Rosalia could almost feel the battle waging inside him. For the first week after the attack, he’d been more than a little protective, especially since she didn’t do anything to stop him.
But neither was he a fool. If he pushed too far, she would push back.
It had, after all, been his own words. Protection when she needed it.
“Why don’t you go find Eva,” she said, brushing a hand up his arm. “I’ll go and greet John.”
His eyes widened with slight surprise at her use of his name before quickly narrowing. “We can greet him together.”
“If we do that,” she said gently, “he’ll just spend the rest of the party trying to corner me. I’d prefer to get it over and done with now.”
Rick searched her face, his jaw tight. “I don’t like how he speaks to you. How he treats you.”
Rosalia sucked in a breath, a small shiver running down her spine, “Neither do I.” His expression softened at her small smile, and she patted his chest. “I’ll be just over there. He’s not going to say anything in front of all these people. He wouldn’t dare.”
Rick’s eye flicked back up to John’s slight figure, “He better not.”
She quickly reached up on her tiptoes, brushing a kiss against his jaw. “I won’t be long.”
Reluctantly, he let her go, and she steeled herself with a deep breath before turning and plastering a smile on her face as she walked towards John and his men.
“Father,” she said as she approached, “it’s so lovely to see you.”
John barely looked at her, his eyes trained on the center of the crowd, where Dane had Lola tucked into his side, both of their children in their arms. Felix had approached them, an easy smile on his face.
She shifted, resisting the urge to chew her lip. “How was your journey?”
“Stupid boy,” John muttered, looking straight at Felix, “there’s a war brewing, and he’s throwing a garden party.”
Rosalia cleared her throat, mustering all the dignity she could. “I’d ask that you not insult my alpha at his own gathering.”
If she had grown wings and flown away, she didn’t think her father would have been so shocked. “What did you just say to me?”
She raised an eyebrow, schooling her features into haughty disdain, “You’ve been invited to a gathering by the Alpha of the Iron Walkers. I’d ask that you show him the respect he deserves.”
John was fully facing her now, his face thunderous, “You dare tell me how I should speak—”
“How was your journey, Father?” she interrupted, giving him a small, wan smile. “Can I get you anything?”
The other alphas around John shuffled, glancing nervously between themselves as John’s scent spiked in fury.
Rosalia did not back down. Did not look away.
She was done making herself smaller. Allowing herself to be weak.
She was an Iron Walker. She had her pack behind her, her husband at her side, and nobody, not even John Heath, could make her feel weak without her consent.
The air behind her shifted, and she didn’t need to turn to know that Rick had approached to stand behind her. She couldn’t help the spark of amusement. Of course, he wouldn’t be able to resist.
But he didn’t interrupt, didn’t barge in front of her. Just stood with her, there if she needed him, but otherwise offering nothing more than silent support.