Page 101 of Conner's Luna

I nod, staring back out of the window. I can tell he wants to say something, probably some pithy remark about Trey. He surprises me when he says, "So... how do you feel about Conner?"

His switch in subject startles me, although I guess I should have expected it.

"I really like him." Exponentially, I add silently.

"Compared to Trey?"

My nose wrinkles in disgust, which surprises a laugh out of Conner's papa.

"So... fight for him," Papa Smurf says casually.

"What?"

"I know he likes you, Bailey. Hell, at least part of that pup loves you already, if not every part. If Lydia is so rotten, then I don't want the mate bond to force him to be with her."

"I want to be his first choice," I say quietly. I don't want to be part of a love triangle, especially if I'm doomed to lose.

He chuckles before turning to look at me. "It's too late to be first, Bailey. You don't want to be first and don't say you want to be the last. You want to be theonly. The only one left standing. Fight for my son, because I know Conner and he will fight for you, Bailey. He already is."

"I don't want to fight. I'm not a fighter. Heck, dancing in my kitchen while baking cupcakes is exercise for me."

His full-blown belly laugh forces him to ease off the gas pedal before we spin off the road. Papa Smurf wipes his tears, then points out, "you know it's not about physical prowess."

I do know. Strength is what I promised mom before she passed away. I swore to her, on her literal death bed, that I would be strong.

My mom...

I glance at the clock on the dash. It would be bad to pull up to my house at four in the morning. Dad will lose his mind thinking the worst. "Can we go to Durham instead of back to my house? I want to see someone."

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Conner

We foam at the mouth. The bars of the cage rattle and shake when we throw our full weight at them, but they don't bend, don't break, don't give at all.

Growling, we spit out venom-laced saliva, only to hack when our mouth fills with it once more. All this venom and no pretty little human to sink it into. Right into her sweet honey-flesh, her soft curves bending, then giving way under our jaws as we Mark her then feast on her goodness.

We shake out our fur, then hurl ourselves at the bars again. The cage rattles. The alpha-male sitting on the log outside heaves a despondent sigh. We spare him a growl, a curl of our lip, a flash of our fang, before turning our attention back to the cage he locked us in.

"Conner, you're being an ass. I'll sit out here all night with you, but if you keep making so much fucking noise and disturb the pups an hour before they wake up anyway, I'll skin you alive."

I snarl, pacing, searching for a weakness in the bars.

"I was locked in this cage when Velia was born, did I tell you that? I wouldn't allow any males near her except Papa and myself. I nearly killed Gerald when he came by," the alpha-male laughs. "Locked in for two days. The first day because I had to calm the fuck down. The second day because your mama had to calm the fuck down." He pounds his knee, laughing at the memory. "She was pissed as hell at me. I nearly missed your birth, did you know? Went to paws then, too. Papa had to deliver you."

We flash fang at him. Our feet know the story. The alpha-male didn't allow the doctor near his mate as she birthed her pup. Of course he didn't. The doctor was male. We won't allow males near our sweet honey female, either.

We need to free ourselves from the cage if we want to make pups with our mate. Howling, we throw ourselves against the bars again.

"Papa figured you be pure stupid about Bailey leaving," the alpha-male says calmly. "She's cute, I'll admit. I like her stats, Con. Hell, Xander practically salivates at the idea of a genius human girl in our pack. She's worth more than her weight in gold."

We claw at the bars. The surface gleams with scars; brightly shining silver ones from us, older, duller ones from wolves locked in here before. Scars that mar the surface, but underneath that uppermost layer the metal holds strong.

We curl our head around, trying to grasp one of the bars with our teeth. Our head doesn't fit between the spaces. The alpha-male snorts as we curl our lips back and jam our head into the tight spaces between the bars. He holds up his phone and it clicks.

"That's a picture I'll show your pups one day," he smirks at me.

I growl, but my pacing is slowing down. My frantic panting, the breath seizing in my chest as I searched frantically for my missing human went away a while ago. Now I can start to think, to understand.

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