3

Rafe

 

 

 

His bed was big.

Though the whole house could be considered a luxury, it wasn’t. Not really. He didn’t particularly like the house, nor did he particularly want it. It had been a wildcard purchase. One he’d made when his career as a cardiologist had taken off in earnest.

In some circles, he was internationally renowned.

Those circles, however, weren’t pack. They were human. And therefore, to his people, his folks included, that meant nothing. His talent, his expertise, even his reputation, were worthless to anyone who wasn’t human.

The house had been an attempt at posturing, Rafe guessed.

It hadn’t worked.

His father didn’t give a shit about the work Rafe had done to earn this kind of place, and the rest of the pack felt the exact same way. Well, save for his sister, Laura, and his mother who loved the kitchen.

Of the entire place, the bed was his luxury. It was customized. One and a half times bigger than a king size, it sheltered him and a partner comfortably. But, Rafe wasn’t all that used to sharing his bed, so that morning when he awoke, he registered no surprise that the mattress was empty save him. Then, he remembered.

Thalia.

It wasn’t that he’d forgotten.

Not really.

How could he forget, after all, that he was no longer alone, no longer intrinsically apart from the rest of the world?

But being here, back in his own bed, the habit of waking alone was too deep in the making.

He smiled, satisfaction filling him as he stared up at the ceiling. The knowledge that he was a part of something more warming him, inside and out, as he drifted out of sleep and into true wakefulness.

The pool’s reflection through his bedroom window had dappling lights dancing over the moldings above him, and he watched them sleepily. Half-wondering where Thalia was, then not really worrying.

She was in his home. She was safe. Not only because she had a guard now, but he’d seen her fight last night. She needed no one’s protection, even if that protection came from another mate.

The lack of jealousy he felt at such a thought surprised him.

Yesterday, he’d been too stunned by the happenstance of Thalia meeting her second mate so shortly after she’d mated with him. Yet, after having had time to process everything before he fell asleep and now, in the sleepy sunny morning, he realized he wasn’t envious.

If anything he was. . . .

Relieved?

Was that the right word?

He wasn’t good enough for Thalia. He was too low in rank. Too powerless. Even if Bahkir was insisting he’d grow into his powers, Rafe knew he’d never be as strong as Thalia. Not after witnessing her in the challenge ring last night.

How many times had Jason Torres cornered him in the back streets of Austin?

How many times had the bastard beaten on him; torn him to shreds, brought him to the edge of life, or had him clinging to it with both hands as Rafe fought death–holding on to this world as he tried to survive the wounds Torres had inflicted?

That same man had been putty in Rafe’s mate’s hands.

A fact his family would never let him live down, he felt sure.

Ah. His family.

Thalia had said last night she wanted to see them, and circumstances aside, he knew it was unlikely she’d changed her mind about that. They weren’t going to be staying long in Austin, not now that she’d won the challenge and her grandfather had sent a babysitter along to watch over her.

The latter, he knew she was glad about considering who Mikkel was to her, but his presence as a guard was unwanted, and she intended to have it out with her grandfather. As a mate, the man was welcome. As a protective detail? No way, no how.

He stretched, liking the tension released with the move as his muscles warmed up. The sheets, soft and comfortable, curled tighter about him with the action, and he contemplated how much of a nightmare the rest of the day would be.

He tried to imagine his father and Thalia in the same room . . . then shuddered away from the very notion.

Better not to think of it. Just to get it over with.

He knew Thalia wanted to meet with his family and handle the Summerford Pack’s Alpha in the aftermath of the challenge. Rafe was under no illusions, Thalia had just declared a national war on any and all Wolf Lyken of high rank who thought it was A-Okay to beat on Gammas and Omegas.

There would be repercussions for that revolutionary stance.

Not just on Thalia’s side, but on the packs housing and sheltering such bullies.

As he wondered exactly what she’d do to ensure the Summerford Pack was punished for such harboring, the door opened, and in strolled his mate.

She wore his shirt from yesterday evening—the one he’d changed into after they’d made it back from the challenge. The old one had been covered in blood and gore.

Torres, like the scum he was, had pulled a dirty move. Having surrendered, Thalia had been generous enough to spare him his life. Then, she’d turned her back on him, and he’d pounced like the dishonorable shit he was.

After killing him and making it out of the challenge circle, she’d run straight into his arms for comfort.

He didn’t mind the subsequent transfer of blood and guts onto his clothes—he was a doctor, after all. Very little made him squeamish. Still, the sight of her in his clothes had his cock hardening even more.

Morning wood had gone out the window the instant he saw her sleek, toned legs dancing across the room toward him. His erection, full blown now, tented the sheets, and for the first time in his life, Rafe was unashamed of his body as her glance, so hot with the fire stoked between them, raked over him. Delighting in him, his form.

She pounced atop him, giggling like a little girl as he rolled her over, the pair of them tumbling like they were in their beast forms. He could scent the other male on her, but it didn’t stir his beast’s ire. If anything, it enriched the perfume that was his mate, making her even more delicious to both man and Wolf.

Thalia panted as he began tickling her, but the sound wasn’t sexual. If anything, it was desperate. She began to squeal as he trailed his fingers down over her legs, up to the small of her back when her hips rocketed up, and he gained access there.

“Surrender! I surrender!” she squealed, and he had to laugh.

She’d survived a challenge with one of the meanest bastards the Summerford Pack had ever known, and yet, caved to his tickling.

Gods, could she be any more perfect?

He settled atop her, conforming his shape to hers like a heavy blanket, and pressed his forearms on the mattress on either side of her head.

She grinned up at him, looking light and carefree, as though yesterday had never happened.

Would he ever understand this woman?

He had a lifetime to try, but he knew she’d surprise him for the rest of his many years. Why? Because her strength was impossible to quantify.

He’d known strong women. Had even known Alpha females. But she wasn’t like them.

She was young. Even at twenty-six, she was still considered immature to most of the pack. In their culture, the early forties could still be considered a time for experimentation and learning of one’s true self in preparation for mating.

But that was why her nature was so unique. So special.

Yes, she was young, but she’d shouldered so much in her few years. Had been enduring the difficulties of being the center of a prophecy, and had done so alone because her family hadn’t believed her. Hadn’t believed in her.

He pressed his forehead to hers at the thought. She jerked her chin up slightly, so their lips could brush.

When they did, she quickly slid her tongue over the curve of his mouth. “You taste good.”

He snorted. “Hardly. Morning breath.”

Yeah, even Lykens had it.

She shrugged, and the motion had her wriggling like a puppy underneath him. Not that he minded when it meant she coated him in her scent, loading every inch of him with the claim that he was hers—so that no one around them, like his parents, could question it.

“I don’t care. You taste like mine.” Satisfaction warred with possessiveness in the depths of her topaz-blue eyes.

He had to hide a grin at the inner battle. It was hard to believe anyone could be so damned pleased to have him.

Well, anyone Lyken.

In the human world, he was quite a catch. But not in the world that mattered to him, not where his home and family were concerned.

He rubbed his forehead against hers. “Thank you.”

She shot him a narrow-eyed glance. “For what?”

“Being mine.”

Her grin made another appearance. It was cheeky this time. “Ah, you did it all yourself, babe.”

He snorted. “I think the Mother had a hand in it.”

She shrugged. “Yup. But still, you could have been a jerk without her help. Instead, you’re sweeter than apple pie.” She turned her head slightly, so she could return the nuzzling gesture.

Had their Wolves had the equipment, they’d have purred at the touch.

Though he knew now wasn’t the moment, he whispered, “Do we have to people today?”

It was her turn to snort, and the tender moment was broken.

Had he known that would happen?

Maybe.

The idea of making love to his mate filled him with excitement, but at the same time, he knew, somewhere in his house, her second mate roamed around.

Mikkel wouldn’t have a Lyken’s hearing, but he. . . .

Rafe just didn’t like the idea of him catching them in the act.

He knew he’d have to get over it, but he’d been dealing with the other man’s presence in his life for less than twenty-four hours. He figured he was allowed a small period of adjustment. Maybe another male would have wanted to stake a claim, but Rafe was ‘kind of’ Gamma. That wasn’t in his nature.

“How long do you want to stay in Austin?” Thalia surprised him by asking.

He frowned, having expected her to dictate that. Not that he thought she’d be bossy, but this new role of hers . . . they were only beginning to understand the ramifications of it. He’d have to cede to her until he could be of more use—and he fully intended to be useful. No way would he be a mate who’d drag her down. He’d do everything in his power to shore her up, make her invincible.

“Why?”

“Why am I asking you? Or why do I want to know?”

He thought about that. “Both.”

“I’m asking you because you’re part of the decision-making process, silly. I want to know because if you want to stay here a while, then we can put certain things off for a short time.”

Things like a ‘meet the parents’ date.

Though the idea of delaying that meeting was heaven-sent, truth was, Rafe had no desire to stay in Austin.

Sure, this was home. And yes, this place was where he’d laid his head for the last two decades, and where he’d made his own particular haven. But that was long enough.

Thalia’s future as Triskele brought a whole different angle to their lives. An angle he’d never thought to explore, but things were changing.

He was changing.

Or maybe evolving was a more appropriate term.

He’d never been able to mind speak with anyone before. Yet last evening, during Thalia’s challenge, he’d managed to have a short conversation with her telepathically.

He hadn’t even known that was fucking possible. Then, he’d healed her. From a distance, dammit. Without touching.

It was a true ‘WTF?’ moment.

They needed to talk about that. Stat. But he just didn’t want to talk about it now. He was still processing. Shit, they all were.  

“I guess we need to figure out what’s best for us,” he murmured softly. “And, to do that,” he continued after sucking in a deep breath, “Mikkel needs to be involved.”

She stared at him a second, then her arms and legs which were already cradling him, tightened. “Thank you,” she breathed. “Thank you for being so perfect, Rafe.”

He blinked, scoffed. “Hardly.”

She shook her head. “You’re too hard on yourself. You’re the most generous male I’ve ever known, do you realize that?”

He winced—as far as he was concerned, she hadn’t known enough generous people in her life.

Sure, she’d had a pampered childhood thanks to her upbringing. But pampered only materially. Not with love.

She hadn’t been cherished as she’d deserved. Neither had he for that matter.

Maybe that was one way they’d always be able to connect. Neither of them had been wanted, they’d both been cuckoos in their parents’ nests.

“Rafe?”

She broke into his thoughts with her soft whisper, and he angled his hand, so he could sift through her hair a bit. “What?”

“I love you.”

He blew out a breath as her words sank into him. His soul absorbed them like Saharan sand would rain. “I love you, too.”

It was crazy, and it was fast, and it was complicated, but . . . none of that mattered.

The love was there.

The connection, so young when it came down to the passing of the minute hand on the clock, was older than time itself. They’d been born, waiting to find one another. Now they were together, it was just a matter of the inevitable happening:

Their falling deeper into love with every passing moment.

He dipped his head and pressed a kiss to her lips. As they touched, the connection between them sparked to life. Their love was like a conduit of energy, he realized, fascinated. He could feel it in his arms and legs, his heart and mind. She was everywhere.

But now wasn’t the time.

“I can smell coffee,” he told her huskily. “Did you make it or did Mikkel?”

“Mikkel. I’ve been speaking to him. He’s cool.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Cool?” Hell, Rafe had never been cool.

“Like Captain America or something.” Her lips curved in a wry smile. “I think you’ll like him.”

“You do? Why?”

She wriggled her shoulders. “He’s very blunt. It’s charming.”

“I don’t need to be charmed,” he told her drily.

“No, but it’s just . . . I guess, makes it easy to like him? He calls a spade a spade. No BS.”

“The jury’s out for me. Although, he was helpful last night when you came out of the arena, so I’m grateful for that.”

Her light-blue eyes, almost aquamarine in hue, turned a shade darker as a wistful cast overcame them. “You know I didn’t want to do that, don’t you?”

When they’d gotten her home from the challenge, she’d passed out almost immediately after he’d helped her get clean. On the drive over, in the shower even, she’d barely spoken. Had been close to an automaton.

He’d hated seeing her like that.

Thalia’s vulnerability hit him hard. Sometimes it was difficult to remember she was young when she showed maturity beyond her years. But, she was young. There was no taking away from that.

“Of course, I know,” he chided her, watching as she licked her lips.

“I don’t want you to think I’m feral.”

“Your control was the stuff of legends, Thalia,” he assured her, meaning it, too.

Torres’s family were lucky they were getting the bastard back with his head intact. He wasn’t sure many Alphas with the blood lust running high would have simply sliced the man’s throat. They’d have decapitated him and then mauled him.

“You were fair. You ceded to him when he called surrender. He was a jackass in life and death.”

She began to pleat his shirt where the hem met her knee. “Thank you.”

He sighed, sensing her vulnerability but also sensing she wasn’t in the right place, mentally, to talk about it. “That looks good on you.”

Peeping up at him from under her lashes, she grinned. “It does, huh? Someone has good taste in shirts.”

Laughing, he murmured, “My wardrobe’s your wardrobe?”

“Can I help it if you have more style than me?”

That had him laughing harder, then, when the scent of that damn coffee seemed to surge on a wave through his bedroom door again, he knew he had to concede defeat—he needed caffeine. Preferably on an IV.

“Is Mikkel still downstairs?” At her nod, he murmured, “Come on then. Let’s talk about what our next steps are. It’s a conversation we need to have with him.” And with coffee. Lots, and lots, and lots of espresso. 

Thalia gnawed at her bottom lip. “I’m a lucky female.”

“Luck has nothing to do with it,” he replied gently, and was rewarded with the sweetest, most heart-melting smile he’d ever seen.

Sweet gods, he’d kill to protect her, he knew. Kill to protect that smile, those lips, and the heart of the dazzling creature who was his other half.

Shit.

Kill.

Him!

The thought had popped out of nowhere, but it was the truth. And he didn’t give a fuck if it broke the Hippocratic Oath he’d taken all those years ago.

He’d do no harm, sure. So long as his mate was never in danger. So long as his family, the unit he was building with Thalia, was always safe and secure.

They, even the third male who was still a stranger to them, were all that mattered. And though he knew that meant he’d have to share Thalia, it was worth it because without her three mates, she was incomplete. Lost in a way he could never ease by himself. And that was simply unacceptable.

To protect her, their unit, he’d do whatever he must. Yes, even kill, Rafe knew, slowly coming to terms with that realization. Because Thalia was everything.

She was life.

She was love.

She was theirs.

 

** **

Thalia

 

Thalia’s feet padded against the swanky tiled floor of the kitchen.

She was used to opulence, had spent her formative years in a damn palace. But this was a different kind of opulence. It was practical, too.

The kitchens of the palace weren’t glamorous as the leaders never ventured south to see them. The castle was only grand in the public and private areas. Wherever the TriAlpha would go, the place was fancy. Here, everywhere was fancy.

It was strange.

Still, she liked it. Preferred it even. Although, there was little point in her preferring it. After all, when she met her three mates, or whether the Mother blessed her before that and she fell pregnant, the instant the babes were born, she’d be back in the TriAlpha palace. Not as someone who was exiled, though. As one of the nation’s leaders.

Her lips curved at the thought.

How epic would that feel? To finally have dominion over her parents?

“That’s an evil smile.”

Her lips ceased curving and started twitching instead. “I’m not evil. I’m an angel.”

“Yeah, tell that to yourself,” Mikkel retorted, cocking his brow at her as he jiggled a coffee cup at her.

She winced and rolled up her shirtsleeves. “Don’t you have anything bigger than that? Like, anything not a thimble?”

Mikkel groaned. “Don’t tell me you’re a latte chick?”

She wrinkled her nose. “What’s wrong with latte?” When he groaned again, she laughed. “I’m not an ‘anything’ chick, to be honest. I haven’t had coffee for a very long time.”

He squinted at her. “You being serious?”

“Yep.”

“How come?”

“They said it made me hyperactive.”

Mikkel considered her a second. “You know that shit you pulled in the challenge circle?”

She blinked. “Yes. How could I forget?”

“That you being hyper?”

She snorted. “Nope.”

“What the fuck is hyper then?”

“May we never find out,” Rafe murmured as he padded into the kitchen.

Unlike Mikkel who was dressed in pants and a shirt, somehow managing to make the simple clothes look remarkably elegant, Rafe wore nothing more than his underwear. Underwear, she’d actually left him to put on, because watching him cover all that was just a crime against nature. It was more than likely she’d never have let him out of the bedroom.

And, gods love him, he was being generous. Inclusive of the stranger in his midst.

If she hadn’t loved him before, his insistence on making Mikkel a part of the decision-making process had ramped up her feelings.

Still, as she watched him, saw the muscles in his torso and thighs flex as he moved, she felt saliva pool in her mouth as she watched him head toward the counter where he opened a cupboard, revealing lots of cups and mugs.

“Why do you have so many cups?” she asked, frowning at the lines of porcelain.

“Because my mother insisted I need them.” He laughed. “I do as I’m told as all good Lykens do.”

She winced. “I never got that memo.”

“You’re Alpha,” he murmured easily, retrieving some of the larger mugs. “I’m not.”

Biting her bottom lip, she cast Mikkel a glance and saw he was looking between them cautiously. “What?” she asked, when he didn’t say anything; just stopped watching them like he was at a tennis match and stared down into the deep, dark pool of his coffee.

“Nothing.”

“Bull,” she retorted, feeling aggressive and not sure why. “You have a problem with the fact he’s Gamma?” She pointed a finger at him. “I’ll have you know he isn’t Gamma. I don’t know what he is. Neither does a very respected Elder. Not that it would matter if he was Gamma,” she tacked on, a tad flustered. “He’s mine. That’s all that matters.”

Mikkel laughed as he held up his hands in surrender. “Princess, I meant no harm.”

That irked her even more because he wasn’t calling her Princess because it was her title. No, he was saying she was being too prissy. Strange that she knew that, she supposed, but their conversation in the early hours of the morning was a bridge that was slowly coming to life between them.

Huffing, she folded her arms around her waist and looked over at Rafe who was viewing her with tender eyes. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I am what I am.”

“Exactly,” she said firmly, leaning her arms against the breakfast bar. “You’re mine.”

He laughed. “Well, yes. I am that.”

She skewered Mikkel with a look. “And you’re mine, too.”

“I’m not going to argue,” Mikkel retorted, but she knew that wasn’t his way of accepting her claim, either. He literally wasn’t going to argue with her. The jerk.

“You can’t deny it,” Rafe countered. “I know you have to feel it.”

“I’m human. We don’t react to mate bonds like Lykens do.”

She snorted. “I call bullshit. I’ve seen humans fall for Lykens before. They fall harder.”

He swallowed, and she watched his Adam’s apple bob—she knew he’d seen his mother react to the mate bond. “Look, I don’t want to talk about this.”

“There’s very little point in arguing, period,” Rafe rejoindered. “We have to move onto the fact that this is right. This is us. We’re a triad until we become more.” He shot her a look. “There’s another one, isn’t there?”

She licked her lips, wondering why he asked when he already knew, when they’d already shared this information with her newest mate. For Mikkel’s benefit, she asked herself.

“Yes. A third one,” she whispered, casting the other male a look. 

Mikkel grimaced, lines of tension banding about his mouth. “Because it wasn’t getting crowded enough around here.”

Flinching, she whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said softly, his gaze trained on his coffee. “I’m just. . . . This is a lot to take in.”

“For all of us,” Rafe inserted gently, as he reached for the coffee pot and poured himself and Thalia a large mug of the brew. “You want it black or with milk or creamer?”

She gnawed at her bottom lip. “I don’t know.”

“Shit, you were being serious about the ‘no coffee’ thing, weren’t you?” Mikkel demanded, his eyes wide with horror.

“Yeah, I was.” She cleared her throat. “I’ve only been allowed herbal teas for a long time now.”

“Well, that blows.”

“Being under house arrest blows harder, I can promise you,” she said wryly, but there was no heat to her words. Not that that stopped his cheeks from blooming with heat in response.

She hid her smile—he was angry on her behalf. Didn’t that warm her up inside and out?

“I can imagine.” His nostrils flared even as he remarked, “I’d have it with milk. And sugar. Lots of sugar. You like things sweet. I’ve watched you eat.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I might have had a sweet tooth last night. We were on the plane! You’re supposed to eat junk.”

“Nah, you’re one of those women who could live off junk food. I can tell.” He tapped his nose. “I’ve got a lot of sisters.”

She heaved out a breath. “I don’t know if I am or not.”

He scowled. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’ve never been allowed to really try any junk food. Yesterday was probably the fourth time I’d had a burger and fries.”

“In your life?” Mikkel exploded.

Rafe gaped at her. “Are you being serious?”

“Sadly,” she said wryly, nose crinkling. Even then, those burgers had been purloined from sneak visits to McDonalds. “My food was controlled, too. Very little sugar. All nutritious stuff.”

“Boring stuff,” Mikkel countered immediately.

She snorted. “You don’t look like that,” she groused, waving a hand at his very sleek, very strong, and very muscular self, “by living off crap.” And boy, if he was an advert for clean living, she didn’t mind being signed up to it for life.

God, he was a dreamboat. With hair as light as hers, but with a silvery fleck to it, it was in stark contrast to his slightly tanned skin—considering she knew he’d come off a deployment recently, she knew that color wasn’t earned at the side of a pool but by work in the sandbox.

His eyes were a mossy green that had bronze flecks around the pupil when he was agitated—like he was now–but they were also gray, flinty. They were as volatile as the weather, and they were just as beautiful. His nose was sleek but sharp-tipped, and his brow was set off with a widow’s peak. He had the face of a model, but his body was pure warrior.

Yum.

“No. But a little bit of what you fancy does you good,” he retorted, breaking into her drooling—and it wasn’t over hamburgers, but him. “Jesus, I need pizza at least once a week. We need to rectify this situation. Stat.”

“I agree.”

Thalia huffed at Rafe’s retort. “Aren’t you a cardiologist?”

“Exactly,” Mikkel grumbled. “Now it’s under a doctor’s orders.”

That had her laughing. “Doctor’s orders to do bad things to my heart, huh?”

“Yep,” Rafe murmured, shooting her a grin so wicked her toes curled.

“Okay, so the first item on today’s agenda is to stuff you with bad food. After that, what’s the game plan?” Mikkel asked, fixing another mug of black tar for himself.

She licked her lips, finding it strange and soothing that they wanted her input. Although, she supposed it was only normal. After all, the males always deferred to their mates. Even if, in pack hierarchy, the males were the dominant of the species.

Was that because of her rank?

She didn’t want that, Thalia knew. She wanted them to make decisions as a unit. This wasn’t a dictatorship, but a family.

“We need to meet Rafe’s parents, his siblings if they can make time to visit. Then, we need to travel to Florida to catch up with my grandparents.”

Mikkel blinked. “Okay. We’re doing all that today?”

Rafe shook his head. “No. We’re going to have to throw in some kind of meeting with the Alpha, too, don’t forget. He won’t be happy about last night.”

“You can’t blame him. The Triskele shows up, kicks Beta ass, and makes an example for the entire nation on his watch? I’d be pissed, too. Well,” Mikkel tacked on, “pissed and worried.”

“Worried? Why?” Thalia asked, leaping up onto one of the high stools that lined the counter. As the cold chill of the seat hit the bare backs of her thighs, she fidgeted in discomfort. Especially as that chill contrasted greatly to the inferno going on between her legs.

“Well, my knowledge of pack politics is limited, but even I know last night will put him in the perfect spot for being challenged.”

“Because he didn’t control the situation and outside help had to come in?” she asked, seeking clarification. While she’d done a lot of reading, a lot, on the internal politics of local, state, and national packs, that was nothing in comparison to hands-on experience.

She’d have to learn the minutiae quickly. Knowing theory was all well and good, but in the real world, it wasn’t enough.

Her fathers were fools for keeping her in the dark. She’d tried to rectify their mistakes by reading up on as much as she could, but shadowing them would have been priceless experience.

“Yeah. It’s not good. Just because he’s Alpha, doesn’t mean there aren’t others Alphas in the pack who are following his leadership at the moment,” Rafe told her, and for a second, she could only focus on those chestnut eyes of his.

Caelus, they made her melt.

“That’s rare, though, isn’t it?” she asked, embarrassed by the squeak in her voice.

Rafe shrugged. “Not necessarily.”

Mikkel nodded. “In my stepdad’s pack, there are about four Alphas.”

“Four?” Her eyes widened, and she realized just how out of the loop she was when it came down to local pack hierarchy. Even as that thought crossed her mind, she wondered if her fathers were better informed or, from their lofty towers, were they even more out of the loop? “Why aren’t they always challenging each other?”

“It’s actually good for the pack on the whole if there’s more than one Alpha,” Rafe explained. “It makes sure they’re not complacent and don’t become complete bastards.”

“What went wrong here, then?” she groused.

“The issue in question was about Gammas. Nobody cares about them.” His tone was so bland, so emotionless that it hurt her. Deep inside. His dismissal was what everyone else in the pack did, and she needed to change that. Gods, it was more than just a need. It was a compulsion. 

She sucked in a sharp breath. “Well, I care. And that means everybody has to start caring now.”

Thalia didn’t give a damn if that made her sound like a brat. The situation with the Gammas was untenable. And if it took one poor little rich girl to sort it out, then that’s what it would take.

She clenched her teeth as her hands formed fists, and she banged one carefully against the counter as she murmured, “So, the Summerford Pack Alpha is about to be challenged. Good. Let’s keep him on his toes.”

Mikkel nodded, but Rafe was the one who replied, “He probably won’t survive the challenge. He’s old. The other Alphas are a lot younger.” He grimaced. “The pack is probably in for a few years of infighting now.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“He means that one will challenge the current Alpha, then, after, when he’s no longer an issue, they’ll fight among themselves until the strongest comes forth.”

Mikkel’s explanation had her wincing—how did a human, who claimed to know very little about pack life, know more than she did? “Did I not do right?” she asked, hesitantly. “I-I had to do something with Torres.”

“Of course, you did. Just because the pack is unsettled, doesn’t mean that isn’t exactly what it needs. Summerford has needed new blood for a long while. The Alphas will just have to argue among themselves until they figure out who’s strongest. When that happens, it will be for the good of the pack. Nobody needs weak leadership,” Rafe told her, rounding the counter with her coffee mug in his hand. He placed it in front of her then curled an arm about her shoulder. “I’ve laced it with Stevia, because hopefully that won’t make your body go crazy. If you’re not used to sugar, then we don’t want you to get a high. There’s a lot of milk in there, but we can see how you find it.”

When he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, she sucked in a shuddery breath as she turned her face into his throat. He was gorgeous, her man. Not like the other males she knew. He was smaller, sleeker. Just like his Wolf. But she knew he worked out because his body in human form was like something from GQ—and she knew what that was. Only the Supra Web had been rationed, not the Internet the humans used. 

Rafe was as tall as Mikkel, but that was short for a Lyken. Six foot was small in her world, with the average Beta and Alpha coming in at six-five. And, considering her own ranking, that was who the Gods should have matched her with.

Not that she was complaining.

Not one bit.

She nipped at his pec, loving the firm resilience of his muscles. He laughed, kissed her crown again. “You keep doing that.”

“I like it. You taste good.”

“She’s a mauler,” Rafe murmured, his words both a joke and a warning.

“I figured as much when I saw the bites on you on the plane.” Mikkel cocked a brow at them both, but Thalia refused to blush.

As she tried to find words that would change the subject, the doorbell sounded. Relief blossomed through her because whatever he thought, she wasn’t ready to discuss this. Sex. With him.

Rafe stiffened, then released a breath. She wasn’t sure how she knew, wasn’t sure if their connection would let him whisper things to her without his intention, but she was wholly aware of the path his mind had taken him down. . . .

“He’s dead, sweetheart. Gone. Torres can’t hurt you anymore.” She reached for his hand, squeezed it. “Nobody can hurt you anymore.”

He swallowed, his eyes wide, and his pupils like pin-pricks—how long had he been living under threat for him to respond to the door buzzer like that? The notion destroyed her and made her want to execute Jason Torres again—except, this time, without waiting for him to double cross her.

“I shouldn’t need you to protect me,” he whispered, and the shame in his voice, in the tension in his features, had her mood spiking from relative calm to instant fury.

“I’m not just anyone. I’m yours. I’m all yours. We protect each other, don’t we?”

He licked his lips, and she could see how hard it was, how dry his mouth had become. He stank of fear, and she wasn’t used to that—his scent was like citrus to her, blended with the flame of sun-drenched earth of an orange grove, and her She-Wolf loved it. Loved the bright, fresh scent that permeated her senses and lightened the air around her.

Her beast growled, hating that her mate scented of distress, and wanting to find the source to eliminate it. Thalia barely managed to dampen down the creature’s rage, and because the human felt it, too, it was twice as hard.

“I-I know you’re right.”

“You healed me yesterday, didn’t you? You saved me,” she whispered insistently, urging him, needing him to realize how true her words were.

He gulped. “Yes. I did.”

They totally needed to have a conversation about that, she knew. When they had a moment to catch their breaths, they needed to confer on what his new ability meant for them in the long run.

“Well then . . . we’re vital to each other. Aren’t we?” His nod was hesitant, and she squeezed his fingers once more. “Go and get the door, sweetheart. We’ll face whoever is there. Together. Won’t we, Mikkel?”

Mikkel’s eyes were wide as he studied the tableau before him, but he coughed and got out, “Yes. We will. We’re a unit.”

Rafe’s head swung to the side, so he could look at him. Whatever he saw on the other male’s face, Thalia wasn’t privy to. But, it seemed to calm Rafe for her mate took a shaky inhalation and stepped away from her. He hesitated again. “I don’t even know why I’m nervous. It’s a gated community, it’s not like anyone can get in unless they have permission.”

Thalia knew the answer to that—reaction had set in. Raphael Santiago, for the first time in his life, was safe. He’d never been that before, and his Wolf, as well as the human, was finding that realization hard to come to terms with.

He didn’t wait for either of them to reply, and swiftly after he’d spoken, she heard his footsteps as he headed for the front door, the padding of his bare feet against the tile as he moved away.

When he was out of the room, she told Mikkel, “Thank you for that.”

He blinked. “You don’t have to thank me. I might not be. . . .” He licked his lips, took a sip of coffee. “I’m not happy about this situation, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know it’s not true.”

“Why fight it then?” she wondered out loud. “Why fight what you know to be true?”

“Because this wasn’t supposed to be my life,” he said on a low growl.

“And what was it supposed to be?” she asked, her tone calm in the face of his tension.

Then, like he realized he wasn’t being fair in blasting her with his sudden temper, he blew out a sharp breath. “I should be in Afghanistan or Libya or wherever. I shouldn’t be here. Babysitting.” He imbued the word with a loathing she shared—she’d had enough of being minded. That was the last thing she needed.

“Babysitting?” Her brows rose. “I thought we’d established I don’t need a babysitter. And, anyway, if you’re minding anyone’s child, it’s the North American Pack. . . . You can’t have a problem with that, surely?”

His teeth gritted. “I’m not a Lyken.”

“A fact I’m fully aware of,” she said calmly, picking up her own cup and taking a careful sip of the drink Rafe had doctored for her. She winced at its sweetness, which had a chemical tone to it that set her teeth on edge.

Seeing it, Mikkel snorted. “He’d have been better off giving you less sugar than that Stevia shit.” Before she could say another word, Mikkel grabbed another mug, dosed it with a small teaspoon of sugar, then poured milk and coffee into it. After he stirred it, he passed it over to her. “Try that.”

Her nose wrinkled with distaste but as he’d made the effort, she took a sip. Her eyes widened. “That’s much better.”

He laughed a little. “Glad to hear it.”

She took a deeper sip and sighed with pleasure as different notes fluttered over her tongue, sharp and acrid, sweet and creamy. “It’s delicious.”

His lips twitched. “We’ll corrupt you yet.”

“I have no doubt that’s the truth,” she retorted wryly, then placing her mug on the surface, asked, “Are you ashamed he’s Gamma?”

That had him rearing back. “No. Why would I care? I’m not Lyken, Thalia. Rafe is just another guy to me.”

“But he was scared then. Surely, even you could see that.” Mikkel’s nod was hesitant. “You don’t take me as a man who’s scared of much.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his close-shorn hair. There wasn’t much to riffle through, so the act seemed more like he was scratching his scalp. “No. I’m not. But then, I’ve been in some tough situations. As I’m sure Rafe has. He’s a cardiologist, after all. Is there a harder medicine to be involved in?”

She shrugged. “I’d guess not. Maybe things to do with the brain?”

Mikkel jerked his chin up in agreement. “Anyway, we all have our strengths. And our weaknesses. And the reason I fought in the first place was to protect those weaker than me. Man, woman, or child.” 

“As long as you keep on thinking that way,” she murmured, her tone part warning. “I won’t have you making him feel bad for what he is. He’s only coming into his powers.” Though the thought wasn’t founded on much, she knew it to be the truth—it was why he smelled of fire, Thalia was coming to realize.

A burning heat that seemed to swell in surges from his pores.

He scowled a second at her warning, then took another sip of his coffee. “Doesn’t it bother you? Your She-Wolf? I thought they wanted strength. I know my sisters do.”

“Does what bother me? That he gets scared?”

“Yeah. I’d have thought that would be important to your bitch.”

She shrugged again, not even having to consider her answer. “It isn’t.”

“Why is that? I know a lot of Lykens, Thalia. A lot of female ones, and none of them are as unique or as strong as you. . . . They’d mind. They’d mind a hell of a lot.”

“He’s mine. Mine to cherish and mine to love.” She jerked her chin up. “Nothing else matters.”

“You know that’s strange, right? By all intents and purposes, he should repulse you.”

“Well, he doesn’t. But then, I think my beast is—” She sipped some more coffee, tried to gather her thoughts into some semblance of sense. “I think she realizes he doesn’t fit anywhere. Just like we don’t.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He isn’t a Gamma. Neither is he a Beta or an Alpha or an Omega. He’s nothing. Yet, he’s everything. It’s like. . . .” She licked her lips. “It’s like a part of him has some link to each rank.” She frowned. “I don’t know how else to explain it.

Plus,” she admitted softly, “I know that ranks aren’t always as cut and dry as everyone thinks. Alphas in the packs sometimes shift up to National government . . . they can be Betas there. But I’ve met Betas who are weaker than Rafe. Weaker than you, and you’re human.”

“You’re full of compliments.”

She wrinkled her nose. “You know what I mean.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I do.”

“All I know is that he’s mine. And I’ll kill to keep him safe.”

“Well, that won’t be necessary today, Thalia,” Rafe said quietly, his voice disturbing the calm in the kitchen. “It’s my parents. They’ve come to meet you.”