Alpha
Page 109

 Rachel Vincent

  • Background:
  • Text Font:
  • Text Size:
  • Line Height:
  • Line Break Height:
  • Frame:
Jace sat up on the bed, frowning, and I could practically taste his reluctance. “Even if she does, she’s not going to give up sensitive information.”
I leaned forward, catching his gaze and holding it. “We don’t need to know what Malone sleeps in. We just need to know whether or not he’s on the ranch. And you don’t have to actually ask her. Just steer the conversation around to him. Ask if he’s mad that you called. If he can hear what you’re saying. That way if he’s not there, she’ll tell you.”
Jace nodded slowly. “Okay. That sounds like almost as much fun as being stoned to death, but I’m in.” He shrugged, and his gaze met mine boldly. “You know I’ll do whatever you need done.”
Marc’s growl was almost low enough to go unnoticed. But I noticed. “Just make sure your mom’s not running the same scam on you,” he snapped. “The last thing we need is for you to tip our hand, so she can call Malone with the details.”
Jace bristled and sat up straight. “Back off. I’m not an idiot.”
Marc’s brows furrowed into a hard, dark line. “No, you’re just an opportunistic bastard who slept with a friend’s girlfriend before her brother’s body was even cold!”
Anger flared deep in my chest, but before I could yell at Marc for bringing Ethan into this, Jace launched himself from the bed. If he’d had fur, it would have been standing on end. “You are way over the line, and you better step back while you still can.”
Marc started to stand, but I beat him to it, and when I begged him silently to stay seated, he leaned back in his chair, but still gripped the armrests. I nodded in grateful acknowledgment of his cooperation, then turned to Jace. “Sit. Please.”
Jace glared at us for a second, then sank fluidly onto the edge of the bed.
I angled my own chair to face them both, then sat, fighting the urge to bury my head in my hands. Or in the sand. “Guys, I know what I’ve put you through, and I can’t even tell you how sorry I am. I’ve made a lot of mistakes, and for the past few days, I’ve been too busy figuring out how to take care of the Pride to concentrate on more personal matters. And I know that’s not fair to either of you. But I owe it to the Pride—to all of you—to give the fight my full attention right now. After that, though, I swear…”
“You just lost your dad and your brother.” Jace scooted closer across the bed, his brows furrowed in sympathy. “And two days ago you were nearly beaten to death, then got kicked out of your home. That’s enough to deal with. Take your time.”
“Thank you.” I gave Jace a tense smile, then turned to Marc.
He sighed heavily and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, heartache dulling the brilliance of his eyes. “There’s nothing I can say right now that isn’t going to make this worse. I can’t pretend I’m okay with watching you two together, or waiting for you to make up your mind.”
Marc glanced at the floor, then met my gaze again, letting me see the brutal misery my indecision was causing him. “It’s easy for Jace to tell you to take your time, because he stands to lose nothing from this—a month ago, he wasn’t even on your radar, and now he’s at the center of the screen. But I stand to lose everything.” He swallowed thickly, like the words were getting caught in his throat, and suddenly my heart felt bruised and heavy. “I lose a little more every day I have to see you with him. And I can’t watch that anymore, Faythe. I need to know what I mean to you.”
Vertigo washed over me, like I’d just plunged downhill on a roller coaster and left my stomach behind. “Are you asking me to choose? Right now?”
Marc stared at his hands in his lap. Then he looked up at me, his gaze equal parts dread and determination. “Yeah. I am. I have to, for my own sanity. So make up your mind, Faythe. Me or him. For better or worse. Right now.”
“Marc, please don’t do this…” I clutched the edge of the table, panic building in my chest. The pressure was so great I could hardly breathe.
“Damn it, Faythe!” Marc stood and stomped across the room, then turned to face me, pain and frustration lining his strong features. “I hate knowing you want him to touch you. And I hate it even worse knowing that there’s more to it than that. If you want him more than you want me, just fucking tell me and get it over with. We don’t even know if we’re all going to live through the fight, and I don’t want to die without knowing whether you love me as much as I love you.”
I met Marc’s gaze, and my heart hurt so badly I wanted it to stop beating just to end the pain. “Marc, you know I love you…”
His eyes searched mine, his focus shifting from one to the other. Then he exhaled, and his anguish stole my breath. “I know that better than you seem to know it. We belong together, Faythe. I’ve known that since the moment you realized you could piss me off and make me smile in the same sentence, when you were fifteen years old. I know you better than anyone else ever will. I know what nightmares wake you up in the middle of the night. I know where you go to be alone when you sneak off during a group run. I know that you’re every bit as tough as the face you show the world, but that underneath that, you’re scared. And I also know that fear has never stopped you from doing a damn thing you put your heart into. So why can’t you put your heart into us?”
“Marc…” I started, and his face blurred with my tears.