Semua Bab The Tyrant alpha: Bab 391 - Bab 400

“Oh no.” Alpha Fireside’s lips curl into a forbidding smile. “Your mate has put a proposition to me. She has sought a hearing from her alpha. It would be against the very foundation upon which this pack was built to dismiss her without fair consideration.”He spares a glance for Killian, I suppose to make sure he’s following. He is. Everyone in the hall is listening. You could hear a pin drop.I don’t know what to say next, but Alpha Fireside doesn’t give me a chance. He rises to his feet, lifting his arms like he does when he addresses the pack at the bonfire. “This pack was built on the idea that all are welcome. Do we not accept the bitten and transformed? The travelers from distant lands whose packs are unknown to us? The refugees entrusted to us by our neighbors?” He casts Killian a magnanimous look. Killian’s face darkens.Everyone is rapt, even though this is just another version of the speech we hear at every full-moon run, every bonfire, every solstice.“At North Border, we m

Clay doesn’t follow the order immediately. He sizes up the males and shoots a glance at the hall behind us, gauging the distance to the exit and the number of males between us and freedom.He seems to conclude that the witch is our best ticket out. He grabs my wrist and places me directly behind him, and he takes up the handles of the wheelbarrow.“The flowers only, witch,” Fireside’s voice rings out, smug now. “The traitors stay here.”The witch, who had already turned to go, swivels, her hips first, her skirts swirling from hem to waist, and then her sharp collarbones, her bony shoulders, her long neck, and her jutting chin. Her silver braid is the last part of her to swing around, accompanied by the clinking of the bangles around her wrists.“Traitors?” She arches a thin gray brow.“Traitors,” Fireside affirms, apparently oblivious to the new weight in the air, the sizzle raising the hairs on everyone’s arms and legs. “What else would you call those who flaunt the natural order? Wh

“Now go.” He snaps and points a finger gun at me.“I can only do it in the moment.”“The moment is now.” He snaps and shoots again.“My mate isn’t in danger.” I check the bond to be sure, but yeah, whatever she’s doing, she’s happy. I will never get enough of the feeling. It’s like clouds and cotton.A shadow crosses Killian’s face, and all of a sudden, he’s not playing around anymore. “Yes, she is. All of our females are now. I don’t know what the hell the witch is holding over Moon Lake’s head, or what’s going on with Salt Mountain, but I know that the second they’re back in play, this truce is over. Fireside is biding his time until he has the backing and then he’s going to come at us with all he has. We made a fool of him in his own house.”Not for the first time in these past months, I feel the full weight of what I’ve asked from this male, or rather what his mate bid him do for us. “I understand, Alpha.”I prepare myself to shift again, to get it right this time, but just as qui

ANNIE, AGE EIGHTEENThere’s something wrong with me.Beyond the usual.It’s November, and I’m sweating through my long jean skirt.The yellow school bus bumps along, winding back to Quarry Pack territory from Moon Lake Academy, and I slide back and forth on the plastic bench, leaving streaks of sweat on the dark green seats. I scrub the dampness away with the cuff of my flannel shirt, but then the bus takes another hairpin turn, and I’ve got another streak to swipe.What if it’s wasting sickness?A memory flashes into my head—the stink of camphor, Ma’s rattling lungs, the white sheet almost flat on the mattress except for the knobs of her knees and ridges of her hips.But it can’t be wasting sickness. The big brains at Moon Lake cured that years ago. Besides, sweating isn’t a symptom.The sharp, pecking voice that lives in the back of my head pipes up. It can never be silent for long.You know what causes sweating.The bus barrels around a curve. I brace my knees against the seat in f

A single Jim drops onto the counter.“Really?” She scowls at me. “You left one Jim?”I shrug. “There was at least half a box left last night.”Mari glares at Kennedy. Kennedy stares back with wide-eyed innocence as she pops another piece of cheddar into her mouth.Mari huffs, drops into a chair at the kitchen table, and snaps into her meat stick. “Is Una still up at the cottage?” she asks Kennedy.Kennedy takes her snack to sit in the chair across from her. “Yeah.”“What did y’all do today?” Mari asks.“Brought in the last of the squash, and then we canned apples. Una thinks they’ll move at the market.”“Everyone sells canned apples.” Mari scarfs down the last of her snack, licks her fingers, and looks longingly at Kennedy’s cheese.“Yeah, but ours were grown, picked, and canned by real, live shifters.” Kennedy waggles her eyebrows. “That puts a premium on them.”I will never understand humans. They’re afraid of us, but they’re also fascinated. The humans with booths at the Chapel Bel