Page 37 of The Omega's Alpha
I froze, and stared at her. “What do you mean?”
“Feud of some sort. Kind of a Romeo and Juliet thing, you know. It’s why they came here, went and got themselves mated on hertime of the yearand then applied to move here to have the baby.” She sighed and looked over at the pups. “I suppose someone will take them in. I heard your Alpha was talking of offering places for people to live until we had a chance to fix the place up a bit.”
“There’s room. It’ll be crowded, but we can find space.” I began mentally running through the houses that were slated for the couples planning to mate over winter and spring and the ones already mated and waiting, wondering if we could shuffle things around and move them into houses two couples together, then realized that that wasn’t my job, but Housing’s and Abel’s. I finished shoving our rolls into my pockets and picked up my bowl of stew. “Thank you for letting me know about the pups. I’ll let Quin know and he’ll tell Green Moon.”
“Oh, he already knows. He’s the one who agreed the parents could come, but no one’s got time for a couple of pups as long as they’re fed and got someplace warm to sleep.”
She was right, though it hurt to think of my people that way. Although, this disaster was far beyond anything that our packs would normally deal with—it was expected that some packmembers would fall off the log crossing the rapids, right? But as I shepherded the pups toward the blankets to eat, I knew I was just fooling myself. I couldn’t bear to watch these pups bounced from home to home, always second-best, always the last to be fed, the last to get clothes, toys. Unpaid labor for whatever family took them in, until they became old enough to fend for themselves. It had happened in Buffalo Gap, though at the time I hadn’t paid much attention—it was just the way of things, right? So was what had happened to me.
No.I settled the pups on the corner of a blanket, made sure they weren’t going to spill anything, and went looking for Quin, leaving my stew carelessly behind.
I found him in nearly the same place, staring out over the seething mass of shifters, and now alone. “Have you eaten?” I asked.
“I’ll get some in a bit.” His voice dragged but he still smiled for me.
“Come sit with us. I have a bowl for you.” I could go back and get one for myself once I saw him eating.
“I’m not really that hungry.”
“You’re tired. Your body needs the energy.” I coaxed him along with gentle hands and a few discreet kisses, finally settling him down next to the pups as if he were nothing more than another, larger one. “Eat,” I told him, and handed him the bowl and the last roll. “I’ll be back in a moment.” I’d bring him tea and he could have my roll. It was ridiculous to expect a frame like his to survive on what kept me going. He smiled at me again and dug into the bowl without protest, which was so unlike Quin that it made me stop and look more closely at him.
He’d lost weight. We’d been here a week so far, and I could already see the marks of it on his face, his cheeks hollowed, his collarbones just a touch more prominent than they should be. He was setting himself on fire to keep the rest of us warm. I touched him gently on the shoulder and hurried off to get more food.
I made sure he ate my roll, and when he was distracted by someone coming by to ask a question, I swiftly poured some of my stew into his bowl, hoping he’d be so tired and hungry he wouldn’t notice. He ate it all and didn’t complain, so I must have been subtle enough.
He laid an arm across my shoulders and I curled into him, then opened my arms to invite the pups to come too. Dorian came readily enough, but Agatha watched Quin warily.
“It’s okay, sweetie. This is Alpha Quin of Mercy Hills. He’s my friend.”
Dorian stared up at Quin with wide eyes and his thumb in his mouth. Almost automatically, Quin reached out and tugged on Dorian’s arm until the thumb popped out. “Kaden used to do that. Mom hated it. Said it would make his front teeth stick out.”
“Did it?” I asked, amused, and even more in love watching this innocent little display.
“No. And she never convinced him to stop, but one day he got something disgusting on his thumb, still don’t know what, and he never did it again after that.” His eyes crinkled. “Might have had something to do with Abel and me laughing at him while he was trying to spit out whatever it was that tasted so bad.”
Dorian giggled and Agatha smiled and let me tug her over to sit next to me, across from Quin. She peered shyly at him and hid her face against my arm every time he looked at her, but it was better than before, more normal for her age. I hugged her and rubbed my cheek against Quin’s shoulder. If I hadn’t been defective, this could have been us, our family. Only I would still have been mated to Gregoire and having pups with him, and would never have met Quin.
All in all, I preferred this to never having gotten to know him.
“What’s the plan for this evening?” I asked.
His jaw worked. “Funerals,” he said quietly. “The burner was destroyed in the fire—the propane lines caught—so the army sorted something out. We’re going to start tomorrow, with the ones we can identify.” His body was tight as a wire again, and I cursed my stupid question. I should have known it would be coming soon, and I scrambled to make it something better than it was.
I leaned into him and kissed his shoulder. “Good. We need to grieve, and once this is done, people can begin rebuilding their lives.” He needed that reminder. I had only started rebuilding mine after I’d had a funeral of sorts for my failed mating. Until then, I’d been locked in self-recrimination and grief and my life had been more like a hibernation than living.
“Yeah,” he said softly, and looked down at his empty bowl. He took a deep shaky breath and let it out, then turned to kiss me. “Thank you.”
“For what?” I whispered against his lips.
“For reminding me that this will get better. I try, but sometimes it’s hard to remember.”
“It does. Life goes on, and wears away the sharp edges of the memories. Lysoonka strengthens the good ones, and weakens the bad ones, and we rebuild and survive.” I pressed my cheek against his. “And I’m here. I won’t let you face this all alone.”
The corner of his mouth moved against my skin and I realized he was smiling. “I know. Funny. Wasn’t I just reassuring you not that long ago that we’d get through this?” I laughed softly and then, so quietly I could hardly hear it, he murmured, “You know I love you, right?”
“Yeah.” I wasn’t going to argue with him about it here, with his heart so raw. And it was true—I could let that truth rest in the open for him to renew himself at. “Love you too.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
