Deep Dark Secret
Page 17

“That you keep pushing me when you know I’m not ready.”
He scooted backwards on the couch and looked up at the ceiling instead of directly at me. Always a great start for open communication. Why I thought supernatural men would be better at talking things out than normal human men was beyond me. If anything, they were more stubborn and pigheaded. And that was saying something.
“I’ve tried to explain what I need from you.”
“No, you don’t. You act and then explain why you’ve done whatever moronic thing you’ve done and expect me to be overjoyed about it. Do you think I like having this same conversation over and over?”
“Probably about as much as I like to hear it.”
I huffed. “I talked things out with Desmond. He won’t be coming over to punch you in the face again anytime soon.”
Lucas forced a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I don’t want to fight with you.”
“Neither do I. I’m just trying to figure out a way for us to stop butting heads over everything. There has to be a solution that will keep us from constantly being at each other’s throats.”
“I can think of one,” a terse female voice said from the entrance to the lounge.
Lucas looked past me and bit back a grimace, but I saw the line of worry cross his face before he was able to hide it. I knew the voice, so it made me wonder at his reaction. To confirm my suspicions, I cast a glance over my shoulder to see who had interrupted our discussion.
“Morgan,” I said.
“Secret.” She jerked her chin at me by way of greeting. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she didn’t look thrilled to see me. That made the feeling mutual.
Morgan Scott wasn’t a woman I would qualify as beautiful, not in the standard interpretation of it, anyway. Her features were too strong to be considered feminine, and she had a brusque demeanor that didn’t make her a cuddly personality. Her eyes were huge, and if she’d known how to properly use her looks to an advantage, she could play the role of innocent girl next door to a T. But combined with her broad nose and a too-small mouth that never smiled, she looked more like a pissed-off Victorian doll than anything else.
Right now that doll-like face was turned towards me, and she hadn’t picked tonight to start smiling.
“Did you need something, Morgan?” I asked when the silence stretched into the awkward zone.
“Did you?”
My body went tense, ready to launch across the room at her. It wasn’t just that she was being unbelievably rude, but given my position in the pack, she was well out of line. No wolf in their right mind would speak to someone of a higher rank the way she was speaking to me. And ranks didn’t get much higher than mine in Lucas’s pack. Just because she had taken over some of Desmond’s duties didn’t make her Lucas’s second, and it sure as hell didn’t give her the right to disrespect me.
“Morgan,” Lucas barked, rising to his feet. He could have said more, given her a verbal beat-down, but he didn’t need to. As king he was capable of projecting his discontent with nothing more than a tone of voice and a hard look.
Morgan looked properly cowed. She dipped her head in my direction and let her arms fall to her sides. It didn’t keep me from glaring at her, but it did stop me from punching her in the head.
“My apologies,” she said, her gaze directed at the floor. “It wasn’t my intention to overstep.”
Like hell it wasn’t.
“What did you need, Morgan?” Lucas asked, his tone still cool.
“I was just going to see if you needed me for anything else tonight before I left.”
“No, I think you’ve done enough for the night.”
She turned to leave, but I couldn’t help myself. “What was your suggestion?”
“Pardon?” She turned and met my gaze, caught herself and looked at the ottoman instead.
“When you came in, you said you could think of a solution for Lucas and I constantly fighting. I’m dying to know what it is.”
Lucas moved closer to me and put a hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. To the uninitiated, it might seem like he was offering me comfort. But something inside me understood the message within his simple touch. It was a warning.
“No. Nothing like that. I was being a smartass, I’m sorry.” The flush in her cheeks and her raised pulse told me she was nervous, and a big part of me was happy I’d managed to unsettle her.
“Good night,” Lucas said, dismissing her as curtly as he’d reprimanded her.
Morgan opened her mouth like she had something else she wanted to say. Looking up, she must have seen something on Lucas’s face that made her think better of it. If the white-knuckled grip he had on my shoulder was any indication of what was going on in his expression, it was a wonder she was still standing and hadn’t fallen into a bow.
“Sorry,” she said again, then bolted from the room.
“I don’t like her,” I announced.
“She’s a strong leader within the pack, she’s loyal and she’s smart.”
“You and I have different definitions of smart.”
“That’s not new.”
I wrenched my shoulder out of his grasp and rotated it to loosen the tight discomfort he’d created. “I want to talk about our issues, but first things first, I think you need to tell me everything you know about this mate bond.”
“It’s not that easy to explain.”
“Will it help me understand why you can tell me what you’re thinking just by touching me? ‘Cause that’s a new development.” I was looking at him again, and I’d never seen a werewolf get paler than a vampire. I was on to something.
Finally he let out a sigh and collapsed back onto the sofa.
“It’s complicated,” he began, and I got a strange sense of deja vu.
“Then you’d best start talking.”
Chapter Sixteen
Two hours later I was standing in front of Rain Hotel with Lucas, wondering how it was possible for me to miss the good old days where all I had to worry about was my two-way soul-bond.
And I thought my one-hour memory gap from Columbia was going to be the most messed-up part of the night.
He was keeping a safe distance from me on the sidewalk while we waited for Dominick to come around with the car. I think Lucas was worried I was going to punch him. But the weirdest part of the whole night was how little anger I now felt towards him. In spite of how upset I’d been about him forcing the mate connection on me, all I felt now was empathy.
I knew why Lucas had done what he’d done, and I couldn’t find it in myself to begrudge him for it.
The air was cold and smelled clean, with lingering scents of the salt used to keep the sidewalks from getting too slippery and the flour-and-sugar smell of a nearby bakery preparing for the morning rush.
Lucas edged closer, still hesitant to touch me, and crossed his arms over his broad chest. In spite of the cold February air, he hadn’t bothered to put on a jacket before we came downstairs.
“There’s something else I need to talk to you about,” he said.
I turned away from the nearly empty street and watched him. He was nervous, dancing from foot to foot. I found it endearing I could put him so out of sorts. After all, he was a king, and yet sometimes he still acted like a shy teenager when he was around me. It was equal parts flattering and frustrating.
“Okay.”
“Earlier this evening, I called your uncle.”
My spine got so rigid it might as well have turned to a pillar of stone. “Why?”
“He and I needed to discuss the situation down south, and I want to see if it can be resolved peacefully. Callum isn’t a stupid man, and anything he can do to stave off an all-out war is in his best interests as well as mine.”
“Are you going to negotiate with him over the territory?”
“He’s sending two delegates up this weekend. The plan is to negotiate his withdrawal from our territory.”
I hugged my jacket tight around me and turned my attention back to the street. Where the hell was Dominick? “Did you force the mate bond because you needed to show a unified front to the delegates?”
When he didn’t respond right away, I swiveled my head around, and the look on his face told me everything. He had deliberately made me his mate so he wouldn’t look weak to my uncle’s men.
“Why didn’t you say so, Lucas?” I stuffed my hands in my pockets and tilted my head back, looking up at the bright, beautiful lights of the New York skyline mixed with the icy white curve of the moon. “You say I’m the pack protector, but when a situation arises where I can actually prove myself, you don’t have enough faith in me to let me make the decision myself.”
“That’s not—”
“No, listen to me, please.” My tone was soft, not demanding. I didn’t want to start a fight with him, but I needed him to hear me out. “I don’t want the East Coast packs to belong to the McQueens anymore than you do. Even though they’re technically my blood kin, my loyalty is to you. To your pack.”
“Our pack,” he corrected.
“If you want it to be our pack, you need to trust me with these decisions.”
“Then I need to tell you something, and I need you to not get mad about it because it’s just me being honest.”
“I can’t promise I won’t be mad. Given your past behavior it would be a pretty stupid promise for me to make.” I tried to laugh, but his wince told me I’d hit below the belt while the wound was still fresh. “Go ahead, tell me. I can at least promise not to hit you.”
“It’s nothing I’ve done. Yet.”
“Okay…”
“I need you to understand the pack will always come first. Before my own needs, before my relationship with you, before everything.”
Just what a girl wants to hear: I love you, but I love a bunch of slobbering wolves more. Again, my initial response of annoyance was quashed almost instantly by a swell of empathy. Fucking mate bond, it was going to make it almost impossible to be mad at him. At least when he was able to justify it to himself.