Page 19 of Traded to the Alpha Wolf

“Mhmm. She’s the only one trying to figure out the volva magic and how it all ties in with our heritage. Why the hunters are so interested. That kind of thing.”

She’s quiet for a long stretch, then: “You think it’s true? What the report said about me?”

I don’t answer right away. I want to say I don’t know, but that would be an insult to both of us. I can scent the truth in her as easily as my own blood. “I think you’re special,” I say, and the word lands heavily between us. She doesn’t react, but I feel the weight of it.

I get out and walk around to open her door; she seems surprised, but old habits die hard, and I was brought up right. As she gets out, I see she’s shaken off the nerves I glimpsed in the truck, and instead she’s wearing a mask of calm indifference. I’ve seen her do it before, but now I realize it’s something she does consciously, something she’s good at. I suspect this isn’t the first time she’s walked in somewhere terrified but looking ice-cold.

The instant Mara steps over the threshold, I feel the change ripple through the room. All the alphas scent her, the way her omega markers have shifted since the heat, the way my scent is all over her. Brooks’s nostrils flare, and he smirks at me. Alder raises an eyebrow, and Kaiden’s gold eyes flick between Mara and me in open speculation. Rowan says nothing, but the way he tracks Mara’s every movement is unnerving.

Willow is the first to greet Mara. She takes her by the arm with a gentleness I think Mara wasn’t expecting. “Coffee?” Willow asks, smiling in a way that puts Mara at ease almost instantly.

“God, yes,” Mara says, and lets herself be led to the table.

Kit is there too, already pulling out a chair. “Sit with us,” she says brightly, crowding in next to Willow and making a show of pouring Mara an enormous mug of coffee. Mara looks at Kit, then at Willow, like she can’t quite believe anyone is being so nice to her. She relaxes incrementally, her shoulders unclenching, her face softening in profile as she takes her first gulp of coffee. She doesn’t notice me watching, but I can barely look away.

I don’t even make it to the booth before the other alphas clock what’s changed. Brooks goes first. “Well, well,” he says, grinning over the rim of his mug. “Someone’s been busy.”

He leans back, elbows wide, and gives me a look so knowing I want to deck him. Alder doesn’t say anything, but he goes still, eyebrows up, waiting for me to confirm or deny. Kaiden just watches Mara carefully, his gold eyes lit with an open curiosity that makes my hackles rise. I catch myself bristling and force it down.

Mara looks reasonably settled with Willow and Kit, and I hear snippets of conversation about the blood chemistry and Willow explaining volva magic. Mara’s voice is starting to sound a little lighter as the women begin trading stories about city life versus pack life. It’s so normal I forget, for a second, what she is. What she might be.

I slide into the booth, back to the wall, so I can keep Mara in view. Rowan watches me, his hands folded neatly, eyes fixed on me. “You want to get ahead of this, or should I guess, too?” he asks, voice perfectly neutral.

“She went into heat,” I say, low. There’s no point pretending otherwise; they can all smell it. “The other day.” I don’t add that it nearly broke us both, or that I’m still not entirely right in the head. I just watched Rowan take it in, his expression unreadable.

“That settles any doubts,” he says. “She’s omega.” He glances over at Willow, who gives a little nod. “I take it she really didn’t have any idea?”

“None,” I say. “But the report you sent over was dead on. It was like flipping a switch. I caught something off with her scent at the hunter's compound, but it only made more sense when the heat really kicked in. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Alder grunts, “She looks human. Doesn’t even register to my wolf as pack, just…other?” He says it like it’s a question, but I have no answer for him.

“Maybe that’s the point,” Brooks chimes in, scratching his chin. “Order couldn’t figure out what she was either, right? Maybe she’s the first of a new thing. Or the last.”

Rowan ignores Brooks and looks at me. “How’s your wolf?” The question is simple, but I know what he means. Can I control it? Her scent is so different, and I can see that the other alphas sense it even though they have mates and won’t act on it.

I don’t answer right away. I feel the urge to look over at Mara, but I don’t. “He’s…settled. For now.”

Brooks lets out a snort. “He’s settled because you claimed her, man. You smell like you rolled in her heat for a week. I can barely taste my coffee.” He says it with a laugh, but there’s something sharp underneath it. Alder, for once, just sips his coffee and says nothing.

“We need to assume the hunters know what she is, too,” Rowan says, growing serious. “We know they did blood tests, and the way they handed her over was…strange. Her scent is off, and so are the test results. Willow’s working theory is that the Order may know that an omega can destabilize shifters, distract them, perhaps make them overlook an obvious plant….”

My eyes lock with his. “You still think she’s a plant?” I ask, my gut twisting.

Rowan spreads his hands on the table, shrugging. “That’s to be determined.”

Just then, Mara laughs at something one of the other women says, and I feel my wolf’s immediate reaction: calm, soothed, connected.

Lying, yes. Confusing, yes.

But not a plant.

Chapter 12 - Mara

There are probably a thousand ways people try to make you feel at ease, but nothing works on me better than a sugar hit. Kit appears to know that, because she produces a huge cake with a flourish, like she knows exactly what she’s doing. The slice is a brick of chocolate and cream with some kind of brittle on top, and for a second, I forget I’m supposed to be a hostage. I’m just a girl with a fork, and everything else blurs out.

“You have to try the fudge layer,” Kit says, already halfway through her own. “It’s my favorite.”

Willow, who’s sitting across from me, smiles, and I see the tiredness in her eyes; it’s the kind of tired that can only be earned by someone who’s been up all night with a baby. I still can’t believe she and Rowan have a baby, and I’m lost in thought for a moment about how she can trust a shifter like Rowan, who is so terrifying, as she chimes in, “We’re making it a rule. No heavy topics until the cake is finished.” Her eyes flick to mine, and I get the sense she’s not joking.