Page 41 of Alpha’s Wife

I watch it land, and the suspicion eases into something warmer, because that’s something he thinks he understands. He pulls me in, and I let him, and I hate how much I still want the warmth of him even now.

“Nearly done,” he murmurs into my hair. “Soon. Then no more injuries. I promise. Well, less, anyway, because there are always injuries at sea.”

He thinks that soon is a comfort. Soon is what I’m most afraid of, because it means I’m running out of time.

We eat at the counter, and he talks easily about what he envisages coming after he takes the island. He talks so confidently, as though it’s already guaranteed. A house with an even better kitchen than this one. Ryder having his own land, somewhere to put all his books, and a place to find himself without all the struggle. Mornings that don’t start with a run to the docks to count the boats that came in overnight. Time to focus on his pack.

“You could have your coven again,” he says, not looking at me, pushing food around his plate. “Once the island’s ours. Bring Maren over. Those kids you talk about and the rest. There’d be room for them all.”

He remembers the children that I mentioned missing in passing. Then he notices I’ve barely touched my own plate and looks at me again, that calculating look returning.

“Eat,” he says. “You were on your feet all day.”

I just can’t. I’ve no appetite, because while he’s talking about what comes after, I can’t shake the thought of all the bloodshed that will have to happen first for that to happen.

“When you say soon,” I hear myself say carefully, maybe too carefully, “do you mean weeks, or…”

“Why?” His eyes settle firmly on me, and just like that, the warmth is gone, and the strategist is back in place. “You in a hurry for it, Selene?”

“No.” My pulse jumps, and I know he catches it. “The opposite. I told you. I don’t want this to happen at all.”

He watches me for a moment, and then he sets his fork down.

“There’s a witch who’s been at our wards over there,” he says, slowly, still watching my face. “On the island. Two nights running. Testing them. Poking around where she shouldn’t. You wouldn’t know anything about witches poking around where they shouldn’t, would you?”

It isn’t really a question, but my heart is beating so hard in my chest that I’m sure it would drown out any answer. I force myself to hold his eyes because if I look away now, my guilt will be obvious.

For one, possibly crazy second, I think about telling him all of it. About Maren, Emily, the other mates who are trying to help, the whole thing, and try to explain to him that I was only trying to stop the war, and that I haven’t told them anything about his actual operation. I haven’t told them about the island settlement because I don’t even know much about it. I haven’t led a witch to the wards; I don’t even know where on the island it is. That I’m only trying to save him from himself. But I know he wouldn’t understand. I can feel it in my bones.

“I don’t go anywhere without Tom since the day you dragged me here,” I say instead. “How would I go poking around wards on the island, Ronan?”

It’s true, and it’s the right thing to say, and I watch him weigh it. He knows it’s true. But something in him doesn’t fully let go of it, and I know that deep down I’m running out of time.

“No,” he says at last. “I don’t suppose you could.” He picks his fork back up. But he doesn’t look satisfied. He looks like a man who has simply set something aside to come back to it later.

Something has shifted between us, and for the rest of the evening, it hangs between us. Guilt and worry war within me, and he looks suspicious. I want to try to soothe it, but every time I try, I seem to make it worse.

When it’s time to sleep, I don’t follow him to his room.

“I’m sleeping in my own room tonight,” I say, and I make myself hold his eye. “I’m exhausted, and you’ll be up before dawn anyway. I just need a proper night’s sleep if I’m going to help Emma tomorrow.”

It’s a lie, and we both know it.

He stops in the hallway and looks at me for a moment, not saying anything, and I watch him decide whether to push it. Part of me wants him to. Part of me is desperate for him to catch my wrist and pull me back and make the choice for me, because deep down, I want to fall asleep listening to his heartbeat again with his arms around me. But he doesn’t reach for me. He just looks.

“Alright,” he says at last. “If that’s what you want.”

It’s the opposite of what I want, and that’s the problem.

Chapter 20 - Ronan

I don’t sleep, not really.

Instead, I lie in my bed that suddenly feels too big and too cold. I never noticed that before, but now, without her, it’s all I can think about. I bet she’s been awake half the night, too. She lied about needing sleep; it was written all over her face. I knew she’d come to me if I asked her to, but she was fighting it.

Something is definitely wrong with her. Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. I wanted her to give in, and she did, but that doesn’t change the circumstances that brought her here. But then, a witch at the island wards two nights running, and a witch under my own roof, flinching every time I look at her, can’t be ignored.

I’ve spent my whole life being able to see trouble before anyone else knows it’s coming, and I know when something is wrong. I’ve been lying here telling myself what we have is real; my wolf wants it to be, but wanting something and it being true are two different things.