Page 69 of Black Moon

A flash of disappointment crossed Linden’s face, but he quickly mastered it.

“He spends so much time on lesson planning for the kids. What little free time he has is mine,” she explained, and I got the impression it wasn’t the first time she’d had to say it. “You’d either have to take him away from children, or from me. Neither option’s acceptable. What about Zeke?”

“He’s done too much for the pack already. He deserves to enjoy his retirement without us asking more of him,” Linden said.

“Well, sure, but this hasn’t been an easy transition. He might be willing to help us move forward. Maybe just for a little while?” Claudia leaned across the table, intent on getting her way.

Linden didn’t budge. “Out of the question.”

“Maybe this is something you should spend a little time thinking over?” I suggested. From where I sat, it seemed like it was going to take Linden a little while to get comfortable with the idea of asking any packmate to take on so much responsibility. “Anyway, it looks like our food’s coming.”

Claudia was intent on getting things going, but while we ate, I did my best to keep conversation light. Linden was clearly overwhelmed, likely thinking about all there was to do and how he had to fill shoes he’d never thought he’d have to wear.

We confirmed plans—out loud so everyone could hear it—to meet Claudia and Birch at The Cider House on Friday night, but other than that, I asked an insane amount of questions about apples. The growing season, what varieties they had, what they did with them.

Linden seemed plenty happy to talk about his family business. He lit up with pride when he talked about how good Juniper was at running the grove, or Rowan’s baking. That got Claudia’s attention too, and she groaned at the very idea of one of Rowan’s pies.

All in all, it was a nice way to pass the morning, but I should’ve known that Linden wasn’t going to let go of the whole campaigning thing that easily.

He grabbed my arm outside the restaurant once Claudia had left. He wore a worried scowl, but even when he was upset, the way his thumb chafed the inside of my wrist was sweet and gentle.

“I don’t like this,” he muttered. Wolf hearing picked up loads, and this clearly wasn’t a conversation for everyone. “I don’t want to manipulate the pack into making me alpha.”

I sighed, pursing my lips and staring at the center of his chest. Another sweater vest, even in August. He was entirely too precious, and that was why this couldn’t be left up to chance.

Turning my hand over, I slipped it into his. If we were going to have a conversation, no reason to look like we were at odds in the middle of town.

I started along the sidewalk, and he fell in to stroll right beside me.

“Would you rather do it the old-fashioned way?”

He blinked. “What do you mean?”

“The pack way. You or Skip challenges the other to a fight to the death, or, at least, to the first veritable bucket of blood. And the most vicious, violent alpha reigns supreme?”

Linden looked horrified. Good.

Though some packs still worked that way, by my way of thinking, there was no excuse for that kind of brutality in a civilized society.

Moreover, it would land the Groves with an alpha like Skip, who wasn’t all that likely to fight fair. Even if he did, he’d be the kind of man who valued violence more than healing.

It was clear from every angle that Linden was the right choice.

“Of course I don’t want that,” he said, as if to punctuate that point. “But I don’t want to trick people either.”

“You’renot.” I tottered to a stop in front of an empty alley beside the grocery store and looked up at him. “No one is. I get that it can feel that way. Politics feel slimy, full stop. But the outcomes aren’t all bad.”

He huffed, a muscle in his jaw flexing as he looked away toward one of the dumpsters tucked in the shadows.

“Listen”—I held his hand in both of mine—“what just happened was Wanda Chadwick, of her own volition, telling youand the whole packthat she thinks you’re the right pick for alpha.”

He scoffed, still avoiding my eyes. Something in Linden was still resistant to this idea, and I had a feeling it wasn’t that he thought he was doing Skip dirty.

More likely, growing up in the shadow of his father and brother had convinced him he wasn’t the right kind of alpha.

Only, he was the perfect kind of alpha.

“Word of that’s going to spread,” I continued. “And, Linden, you’d look after this pack, right?”

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