Howling For You
Page 10

It would have been easy to back down. To tuck my tail and slink out of the room, and let things be the way they’d been before. But that left me lonely and dishonest to myself, to Jeff, and to the potentials. So I gathered up my courage, and put it out there.
“I’m done with potentials. I’m not going to meet any more of them. I’m going to date who I want to date, regardless of the type of shifter he is. And I’ll give up my place in the line of succession if that’s what it takes.”
He looked at me, jaw clenched and twitching. “Is this your way of rebelling?”
“Of course not.” It was, of course, but not in the way he meant. It was a rebellion against what we’d been taught, about who I’d been taught to be. But it wasn’t a rebellion for the sake of rebellion. It was about, for the first time, being true to myself.
“I’ve done my part to protect the Pack, the crown. But it’s time to think about my future. I love him.” Tears rose to my eyes at the power of the admission. “He’s the other half of me, and I’ve known that for a long time. But I haven’t admitted it, and that’s not fair to him or me or anyone else.” I paused, looked up at my big brother, and the leader of my Pack. “I’ll give up the Pack for him. Because he’s worth the price. I’ll abdicate.”
Of course Jeff was worth the price. He was the one who’d loved me regardless. The one who’d fought by my side despite the humiliation of potentials and dates. The one who made me laugh at myself, who understood me better than anyone in the world.
It felt like a weight had lifted from my shoulders. My body felt lighter. My soul felt lighter. For the first time in my life, I felt like Fallon. Just Fallon, because he’d given me permission to be myself.
For a long time, he just looked at me. And then one corner of his lip lifted. “Okay.”
I stared at him. “Okay? That’s it?”
“I wasn’t aware you were entertaining other answers.” He tilted up my chin, searched my eyes. “I love you, Fallon. And so do your other brothers. And so did Mom, and so did Pop. You are exactly who you’re supposed to be. No more, no less. And you always will be, whether the coronet is yours or not.”
“What about the Pack?”
“The Pack is the Pack.” Gabe gestured toward the door. “You were in that chapel. They know love. They know respect. That’s the foundation of the Pack. And if you can’t love—if you can’t be brave enough to put love first, even if you have to sacrifice to do it—you do the Pack no service. Cowards do the Pack no service.”
I nodded, but put a hand on his arm. “You aren’t going to tell them now, are you? This is Connor’s night. This can wait.”
He grinned. “Connor won’t remember a single damn thing about tonight. But you’ll remember the look of sheer panic on Eli’s face when we tell him he’s next in line.”
The gleam in my eyes probably wasn’t especially graceful. But he was right. “Oh, yes,” I said. “Tonight is the night.”
We walked back into the room, every shifter in the sanctuary turning to face us. Gabriel put a hand at my back, rubbed supportively.
“There’s news to share,” Gabe said. “Our favorite Keene has made a decision about her future.”
I pushed the words out in a rush, lest I lose the nerve. “I hereby abdicate. Give up my position in the line of succession.” I let my gaze find Jeff, whose eyes had gone fierce. “For love.”
Noise erupted around me. I must have expected anger or disappointment, because their congratulations completely floored me.
Ben picked me up, swung me around the room. “We’ve been waiting for this, sister.”
I looked for Eli, searched his gaze for anger. As the shifter next in line, the decision would affect him most of all. But if I’d added pressure, he certainly didn’t look it.
When Ben released me, I walked to him. “I should have talked to you first—” I began, but he shook his head, put a hand on my shoulder.
“You’re allowed to have a life, Fal. You don’t have to ask me for permission to do that. Or any other yahoo in the room.”
“You’re sure?”
“Without a doubt,” he said, and for the first time, I saw in his eyes that same golden swirl of knowledge that I’d often seen in Gabriel’s. He may never lay claim to the Pack, but if he did, he’d be prepared.
Eli embraced me, kissed the top of my head. “I believe someone’s waiting for you.”
He released me, and I looked in the direction of his gaze.
Jeff stood apart from everyone else, eyes shining with love and face beaming with happiness. I don’t think I’d ever seen him that happy.
He grinned, held out a hand.
I walked to him, biting my lip to hold back a grin that felt like it would have split my face. But he was impatient. He stepped forward, met me in the middle, and cupped my face in his hands.
“I love you, Fallon Keene. I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you. And I will love you every day and night for the rest of my life.”
Tears blossomed. “I love you, too.”
With my family cheering and applauding around us, Jeff Christopher kissed me.
And for the first time, all was right with the world.
He’d made me wait in the living room, and I stood in front of the giant fish tank that stood opposite the picture window, watching clown fish dart back and forth across the water.
When the bedroom door opened, I glanced back. Jeff stood in the doorway in a pair of silk boxers. I’d only seen him naked when we’d shifted, but that meant I wasn’t exactly paying attention to his nakedness.
Jeff may have been lean, but he was well-hewn. He had the body of an endurance athlete, every inch and plane smoothed with muscle.
“My eyes are up here, Fallon.”
I took the admonishment, looked up at him with a grin, and found him smiling back with me.
He held out a hand and beckoned me forward. And I followed him. In the doorway, he kissed me softly, then gestured toward the room.
“Madam, your palace.”
The bed was covered in pink rose petals, and a bottle of champagne was cooling in a sterling silver stand. A woman’s throaty voice crooned softly in the background.
“This is . . . impressive,” I said.
“Just wait.” He turned off the lights, and two dozen candles sprang to life around the room, which now glowed softly.
“Magic?” I wondered.
He grinned. “LEDs. I connected them to a circuit”—he began, but waved off the thought. “It doesn’t matter. The point is, we’re here. And I wanted this to be romantic. Just for us.”
I nodded, but the intimacy in his eyes made me feel suddenly shy.
He took my hand. Squeezed it. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” I said, and looked away to avoid the intimacy in his eyes. But he tipped my chin back to meet him again.
“Honesty between us,” he said. “Just me and you. Okay?”
I looked at him, remembered the trust I’d already put him, and nodded. “Just nervous. It’s me and you—and we’re—well, you know.”
He smiled. “I know. But it’s me and you. And we don’t have a timetable.”
He led me to the bed and tugged the belt on the robe he’d let me borrow. It fell to the ground, revealing the long, black negligee I’d worn beneath it, a slick fall of bias-cut silk.
“You look . . . absolutely amazing.” The adoration in his eyes left little doubt of his sincerity.
“Thank you. You look pretty delectable yourself.”
He put his arms around me, drew me forward against the long line of his body, and kissed me. And this time, there was no restraint, no fear, no caution. His kiss was possessive—and also victorious.
We tumbled onto the bed, Jeff apologizing when he tangled in the silk that fell to my ankles. He rolled me atop him, plucked a rose petal from my hair, then pulled my mouth to his and kissed me again.
His lips were so soft, the kiss so tender. But somehow, missing something.
He drew back, pushed the hair away from my face. “Are you alright?”
I propped my arms on either side of his head. “Honestly, I still feel a little ungainly right now.”
He squinted, scratched at his temple. “I kind of know what you mean.”
He sat up, surveyed the room. “I think maybe this isn’t us. I mean, don’t get me wrong—I like romance as well as the next guy.” He picked up a handful of rose petals, and let them fall like water from his hand. “I’m just not sure this is our kind of romance.”
I looked around at the scene he’d prepared. It was all perfect, and right out of the romance playbook. But maybe not our particular romance playbook. “I think you’re right. What do we do?”
He looked over at me. “Do you think you can juggle?”
As it turned out, I could juggle. With some instruction.
He’d stuck to boxers, but I’d switched out the negligee for another “Jakob’s Quest” T-shirt for the lesson, and we’d reassembled in the living room, where we had plenty of space to maneuver.
Jeff was a marvel. Having seen him in full gaming frenzy, I didn’t doubt he had great hand-eye coordination. But watching him whip beanbags through the air in smooth and fluid arcs was seriously impressive.
He taught me to toss one, then two, and I was feeling optimistic. But tossing the beanbags he’d pulled from a drawer with syncopation just wasn’t happening.
I smiled at the pile of beanbags on the floor. “I can’t do this.”
“You can,” he assured me, standing behind, hands at my waist to ensure I was standing up right and kept my elbows at my side.
The beanbags hit the floor again . . . and then again . . . and then again.
And then, by some miracle of gravity and inertia, I had it. The bags moved like competing waves, slipping by each other—and somehow landing in hand, where I tossed them into the air again.