Page 19 of Fated Alpha Baby

Eight years later, and he’s grown out his hair, his beard, his eyes have aged with the weight of being the leader of a pack plagued by demon attacks.

That’s why he’s here. To enter this alliance with the others, because he clearly needs their help. His eyes weather the storms he’s carrying, and I hate that I feel tingles in my fingers, as if I’m supposed to feel sympathetic for him.

Conan hangs his head as if the information is too unbearable to face. “Right,” he says, voice sounding choked. “As long as you’re happy.”

“I am very happy here, thank you.”

Conan lifts his eyes only a fraction, watching me through the veil of his dark lashes. “But there aren’t any men in Augusta, are there? Only witches, right?”

I’m about to respond with something witty, a buyable reason why Clarissa’s father wouldn’t be in Augusta, when I hear the deliberate clinks of heels on the pavement approaching us.

Lifting my head, I see Amalia coming forward, clothed in layers of white and gold, her ash-blonde hair braided down one shoulder like a warrior entering battle.

If she knows…

I have never prayed harder for her graceful, elegant tongue not to say anything about Clarissa, or me, or Conan. I can only plead with her through my eyes, fixed on her quietly.

“Hannah, my dear…” she smiles charmingly as she reaches out for my hand. “I see you have met our latest guest. Alpha Conan Becker, from the Iron Breath Pack out in the Bitterroot Valley.”

“Hannah and I—” Conan begins, but I cut him off abruptly as I step between him and Amalia.

“We’re just having a chat, Sister Amalia. We have met before.”

Amalia nods slowly, thoughtfully, her eyes twinkling with wonder as she flicks her gaze to him, then back to me.

My heart hammers in my chest now, especially when Amalia smiles.

She’s pretending.

Oh, boy!

She’s pretending not to know. Which means she knows. And I can’t tell whose side she’s really on.

“Well, Alpha Conan…Hannah Young is one of our very gifted witches.” She draws me into her side with an arm slung across my shoulders. “She wields both fire and air magic.”

Conan’s face pales as if he’s seen a ghost, and my heart is ready to beat right out of my chest.

High Priestess Amalia Waters isn’t blowing smoke up my ass. She’s setting fire to my whole existence. And it burns on my cheeks when I can’t even look up, too embarrassed.

“Well…” Conan finally breathes. “That is particularly interesting, Sister Amalia.”

Amalia nods, still wearing her smile. “I’m sure it is. I’m glad you met my brightest star. I can assure you, tomorrow night’s meeting will be interesting, too.” She steps aside and gestures to the village. “Please, Alpha Conan. Go ahead and enjoy the festivities we’ve prepared for the conference. Shanice, in the corner, has prepared donuts. They are divine.”

Conan nods, his lips pressed into a firm line as he walks away. He doesn’t say another word, much to my relief.

It feels like I can finally breathe again.

“Shanice? Do you really think that’s a good idea, Sister Amalia?”

“He is a charming one, Alpha Conan. Perhaps he can change Shanice’s mind about werewolves before the conference. Ease her tension.”

I turn toward Amalia, extinguishing the flames of my anger with the reminder that she’s been there for Clarissa and me all these years. I shouldn’t be upset with her. But I am, and I’m trying to fight it.

“Why did you tell him about my powers?”

Amalia’s smile fades, and her expression becomes worried. “Did you wish to hide your powers from him?”

“N-no. I mean, yes. It’s none of his business.”