Running with the Alpha's Son, page 5
“And the mind-link thing didn’t work.”
“Nope.”
“Will you keep trying?”
“Not unless I want my brain to explode out of my ears.”
“Gross.”
“Anyway, how are things with you?”
School has been weirdly lonely since the semester started back up. I have a couple of friends, Becky and Peter, who I sit with at lunch, and a cool lab partner in Biology, a girl named Norma, who always has a different-colored streak in her hair. But I can’t exactly tell them about everything that’s going on in my life. Wolf and human culture aren’t supposed to mix. They’d probably report me to the school counselor and petition for me to be hospitalized if I did try to tell them the truth.
With so much going on it sucks not to be able to talk it all through. Scheduling time to see Katie has been difficult—school and her mates are keeping her busy—and Aisha’s dance company has just started rehearsal for a new show, which is taking up the brunt of her time. With Jasper stretched thin between his studies and pack duties, Mason is the only other person I can talk to. And he’s stuck in the mountains, in a pack that may or may not be harboring hostilities toward ours.
“I’ve got to say,” Mason says, sounding sort of tired, “things have been pretty weird since Morven came back from New York. This whole year has had a strange vibe.”
“What’s going on?”
“All pack dinners have been canceled. Morven and my dad have been in meetings with the other officers pretty much day and night.”
“What do you think they’re meeting about?”
“I dunno. Strategy? In case things fall through between our two packs.”
“Has your dad said anything?” Not that I’m trying to spy on the Rocky Pack, but getting a little bit of inside information from our rival pack’s beta, their second in command, could be useful.
“He said Morven is pissed.”
“Because of what Jasper did at New Year’s?”
“Sort of. I think it had more to do with the promises that had been made and broken. He feels humiliated. Morven is quite proud.”
“Do you think he’s going to turn on Jericho and the Elite Pack?”
There’s a pause and a muffled sound. Mason takes a long breath. “I don’t know.”
The sound of footsteps echo off the walls and I sit frozen for a moment, prepared to pull my feet up onto the toilet seat if whoever it is finds their way into the bathroom. But they pass by, the sound dwindling as the person moves away from the door.
“Sorry, thought my solitude was about to be interrupted.”
“It’s okay.” Another pause. “Look I shouldn’t tell you this but…”
My heart rate accelerates at the sound of Mason’s conspiratorial tone; I clutch my backpack tighter to my chest.
“Morven knows Jericho and Jasper have been visiting other packs. My dad said he’s worried your alpha is courting allies so he can turn on the Rocky Pack.”
“That’s nonsense,” I reply. “Jericho is just making sure we’re safe.”
“Maybe.” Mason doesn’t sound as convinced as I am. “Or maybe he’s trying to amass a contingent of packs so he has the advantage if things were to get…violent.”
A shiver passes through me from head to toe. My headache flares up just a little.
“You think things could get violent?”
Mason doesn’t respond but I picture him shrugging. “We’re wolves. Natural predators. Coveting territory is second nature to us. Violence is always a possibility.”
My head is swimming and not just because of the approaching migraine or the smell of toilet cleaner. Could the fracture between the Rocky and Elite Packs turn into something worse—something a lot worse? Could it turn into war?
It’s too much for me to consider right now. Jericho is a proud alpha, he’s strong, he’s known for his stature, his power. He wouldn’t shy away from brutality. But would he instigate it?
“Max, you still there?”
“Huh?” I shake myself free of my dread-filled thoughts. “Yeh, I’m here. How is Mia doing in all this?” I haven’t heard from Mia since she went back to the mountains with Morven.
Mason gives another sigh in response. “She’s…not great. She misses Olivia obviously. Truth is I haven’t seen all that much of her. Morven’s had her on a pretty tight leash.”
Anger flares in me bright and hot. How can he keep his daughter from her mate? It’s diabolical.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “Will you tell her I was asking after her? And that she can call me if she likes.”
“Of course.”
“And you?” I ask. “How are you holding up?”
“It’s hard not to feel pretty hopeless sometimes,” he says, breaking my heart.
A small spike of pain pricks at my brain. I can’t stand my friends feeling this lost and alone. Suddenly I feel majorly whiney for complaining about not having enough people to talk to, when in actuality I think maybe I’m one of the lucky ones. If only I could pass on a little of my luck.
“I wish I could be there,” I say. “The next time I talk to Jasper I’ll see if there’s anything we can do.”
“Sure.” I can practically hear Mason rolling his eyes.
“Why do you sound like that?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Come on, you can tell me.”
“It’s just…you think Jasper is going to do anything if it’s not what his dad wants?”
What is he implying? Yes, Jericho’s approval means a lot to Jasper. He cares way too much about what the pack needs. But he’s not a mindless drone.
“He’s not like that—I mean, not all the way like that.”
“I’m sorry. I know he’s your mate, but you have to be realistic. When it boils down, Jasper is a tool for his father to control.”
I want to hang up, flush my phone down the toilet, but I know Mason is probably acting out of some dark emotional place and not a place of truth. “That’s not fair.”
Mason takes a couple of breaths and when he speaks again his tone is noticeably lighter, like he’s trying his best to sound chipper. “I’m sorry. You’re right. That wasn’t fair to Jasper.”
I rub my neck, trying to adjust to the emotional whiplash. “Thanks.”
“Hey, listen, I’ve got to go,” Mason says, suddenly in a hurry to get off the call. “I’ll call you soon.”
“Yeah, okay—”
“See ya.”
Before I can say goodbye, Mason has hung up and I’m left in a daze. I sit in the cubicle, by myself in the quiet of the empty bathroom, until the bell rings and I need to head to class.
As I make my way to English I can’t help but wonder if Mason really does think Jasper is a simp for his dad. Does he really believe Jasper is just a mindless tool, an instrument his dad can use to manipulate situations? And if I’m with him, if I’m defending him, what does that make me? Does Mason think I’m a tool as well?
These thoughts plague me all the way through the rest of the day. I’m so preoccupied I hardly even notice the final bell ringing to release us.
On my way from the bus stop to my house I try calling Jasper, hoping he’s free and not in the middle of afternoon tea with some random wolf dignitary or cramming for an exam on human history.
“Hey!” he says, his voice like a balm, instantly calming me. “How are you?”
“I’ve had a bit of a day.”
“I’m sorry. I wish I could chat but I’m about to run into a class. Can I call you later?”
I sigh, but understand. It’s not Jasper’s fault the world goes on spinning when I’m in desperate need of some affection.
“Of course.”
“Whatever it is,” Jasper says, “we’ll figure it out.”
And just like that I’m satisfied. Jasper cares about his father and about our pack but he isn’t a mindless drone, a hapless tool, he’s a person who cares and wants to make things better. And I’m not a simp for believing that. I’ve seen him in action.
“Thanks.”
“I’m excited for spring break. I’ll be coming back to the city. We can have our second date.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I can’t wait.” My heart does a little leap, sticking the landing and saluting the judges with a flourish. “I can hear birds. Where are you?”
“I thought you had class.”
“I can be a minute late. Answer my question.”
“I’m just walking down my street, about to—”
My feet come to a standstill as my house comes into view.
“Max?”
I can’t quite believe what I’m seeing. Someone has graffitied our house, scrawled a word in red spray paint across the garage door.
“Max you there?”
I can’t answer, I’m too busy staring at the message left in large, aggressively angular letters:
TRAITOR
TRAITOR
A team of five gamma wolves, security officers from Alpha Jericho’s forces, are outside my house. Big people dressed in black suits and wool trench coats, wearing the same sunglasses—must be standard issue—poking around in bushes, wandering the perimeter of our property, and talking into their earpieces. I feel like the president or some big pop star with private bodyguards. Like Whitney Houston or something.
“Seriously, Jasper, I think this might be overkill.”
“Until we know who did this I’m not taking any chances,” he says through the phone.
“My neighbors are going to think there’s a bomb threat or something.”
Jasper twists his lips together and doesn’t say anything.
“You think there could be a bomb?!”
“We don’t know yet,” he says. “Clearly we’ve upset some people. I’m…” He stumbles and pauses. “I’m sorry it’s affecting you. I should be there.”
I roll my eyes and smile. “It’s just a bit of paint. Sure, it’s not ideal, but I don’t think I’m in imminent danger.”
“Still, I said I would keep you safe.”
Oy, this again. “We have a SWAT team combing the area for suspects,” I say. “We’re going to be safe.”
“Are your parents home yet?”
Speak of the wolf-devil. My mom’s car is slowly pulling up the drive. She and Dad carpool to the train and I usually beat them home after school. They pull to a stop as one of the security guards approaches. Mom rolls down her window, looking from the guard to the garage and to the house, possibly scanning for further damage. Dad jumps out his side and approaches the garage door. Begrudgingly, Mom puts the car in park, rolls up her window, and exits the car as well. Why aren’t they letting them park in the garage? Maybe something to do with contaminating a crime scene.
The beefy security guards shepherd my parents toward the door.
“They’ve just arrived,” I say, turning my attention back to Jasper, who’s still waiting for my reply. “I should go talk to them.”
“Okay.”
“And you should get to class. Don’t flunk out of Harvard because of me.”
“I’ll call you later,” he says and hangs up.
“Max!” Mom is calling for me before they’ve even made it halfway inside.
“In here!”
Mom and Dad arrive in the living room with wide, concerned eyes. Dad is scratching the back of his head and Mom has her arms out, coming straight for me.
“Are you okay?” She grabs me into a tight hug.
“I won’t be if you break my ribs,” I squeak out.
“Who did this?” she asks. I can only shrug in return.
“What does it mean? Traitor?” Dad asks, not to anyone in particular.
I sigh and run a hand over my face. “We think it’s for me. Because I’ve…I dunno, corrupted the alpha’s son, disrupted the family line or something.”
“That’s nonsense,” Mom says, turning to Dad for support.
“Absolute horse manure,” Dad says.
My folks are the best, always trying to be supportive, if not a little naive. I shake my head and shrug again, in a way that says This is just how the world works. The wolf world especially.
Mom stops looking at Dad and holds me in front of her, studying my face like she’s looking for obvious signs of distress, or physical injuries. Then before I know it she’s hugging me again, holding my head to her chest and stroking my hair.
“I’m so sorry, kiddo. It isn’t fair.”
She’s right, it isn’t fair. For most kids, having their first boyfriend is fun and exciting. For most wolves, finding your mate is something to celebrate, a wonderful gift for the community, the continuation of the species.
For me and Jasper, it’s a political statement—one not everyone is on board with, apparently.
“Thanks,” I mumble.
One of the security dudes pokes his head around the entrance to the living room, disrupting our semi-cozy moment. “We’ve searched the perimeter. You’re all clear. Whoever did this didn’t stick around. They must have just wanted to send a message.”
Message received. Hooray for them!
“Thanks,” Dad says.
“The alpha has requested two wolves be positioned outside for the next forty-eight hours. You’ll be safe.”
“Great,” Mom says, though she doesn’t sound so enthusiastic. I’m with her. I just want to be left alone.
“People are jerks,” Katie says, glancing at me from her lawn chair then turning back toward the garage door and calling out to Todd and Simon, who are in the middle of painting over the graffiti. “Keep up the good work boys!”
The bro-twins look over their shoulders and wave. Katie waves back and I nod my head from my seat. I felt a little weird about dragging these chairs from the back patio to the front lawn just to watch someone else paint over the graffiti that was meant for me, but now that we’re here it’s sort of fun—plus, from the way Todd and Simon are splattering each other with paint and chasing each other around like a couple of regular pups, they seem to be enjoying themselves.
“Thanks for coming,” I say. “And bringing reinforcements.”
“Of course. It’s really shitty of whoever did this. I hope Jericho finds them and excommunicates them.”
“Whoa, extreme much?”
Katie blushes. “Sorry, it just makes me really angry.”
Todd swipes his brush across the top of the T, the red disappearing behind the olive green my parents chose to repaint the door.
“Me too,” I say.
“I bet Jasper was steamed. I’m surprised he didn’t race back when he heard.”
“I had to convince him not to.”
“That’s sweet.” She glares at the garage and leans forward. “You missed the dot above the i!”
Simon looks from the door to Katie, shoots her a little salute with his paintbrush, and reaches up to green-out the dot.
“I’ll be seeing him soon anyway. He’s coming back for his birthday and spring break.”
“Oooh, boyfriend’s first birthday. Do you know what you’re going to get him?”
“No clue. Seriously, I’m more worried about that than whoever did this.”
“Really?” Katie says, skeptically chewing her bottom lip.
I laugh. “Mmm, I guess not. I am concerned about the party.”
“That’s right!” Katie says, eyes lighting up. “Jasper’s annual birthday ball. I can’t believe we’re both going this year!”
My shoulders slump forward. “Yeah.”
Jasper’s birthday isn’t just a familial affair. The whole pack celebrates the birth of the alpha’s son and every year a big event is held in his honor. It’s basically like a national holiday, only for werewolves.
“You’re not excited?”
“It’s just, since Jasper and I have been together properly we’ve barely seen each other, and he’s only in town for a week. A lot of that time is already booked up with meetings his father wants him to attend. We only have so much time, and the one night it would have been nice to do something just the two of us, we have to spend it with the crusty upper class of the Elite Pack. It’s not exactly romantic.”
“It’s nice though that he wants you there. It’ll be your first official appearance in front of the pack. It’s a big deal.”
“I suppose.” I take a long, deep breath and watch as the final strokes of paint cover up the red lettering. The word is gone. But I can’t help repeating it over and over again in my mind. Traitor. It’s scrawled on the back of my eyelids just like it was on the door. Is that what people think of me? Is that what the pack thinks of me? “I’ll tell you who is excited about being invited to their first big pack event.”
Katie leans over the arm of her chair excitedly. “Who?”
“Them.” I point in the direction of Mom and Dad, who have just appeared in the open doorway of the house, coming out to appraise the boys’ handiwork.
Katie squeals a little. “Cute!”
“Attending my first official event as the mate of the alpha’s son and my parents are coming…I can’t wait.”
Spring break rolls around, thankfully without another incident like Graffitigate, as I’ve taken to calling it. The last few weeks Jasper has been especially hard to reach, torn between exams, finishing up papers, and traveling to meet with more pack dignitaries—lately he’s been focusing on the five small packs along our southern border.
Even though Jasper hasn’t wanted to out of fear it’ll induce another migraine attack, I’ve tried a few times to access the mind-link. With no success. Each time I close my eyes to focus on my blood-wolf connection, exploring the endless sea of consciousness, I wind up clutching my head and groaning into my pillow. The dull headache that follows has become a constant companion. I might be holding up the aspirin market single-handedly.
As I wait for the elevator to arrive on the sixty-eighth story of the packhouse, where Jericho—and therefore Jasper’s—city apartment is located, I rub my temple and close my eyes, hoping my last hit of painkillers will kick in any minute.
“Nope.”
“Will you keep trying?”
“Not unless I want my brain to explode out of my ears.”
“Gross.”
“Anyway, how are things with you?”
School has been weirdly lonely since the semester started back up. I have a couple of friends, Becky and Peter, who I sit with at lunch, and a cool lab partner in Biology, a girl named Norma, who always has a different-colored streak in her hair. But I can’t exactly tell them about everything that’s going on in my life. Wolf and human culture aren’t supposed to mix. They’d probably report me to the school counselor and petition for me to be hospitalized if I did try to tell them the truth.
With so much going on it sucks not to be able to talk it all through. Scheduling time to see Katie has been difficult—school and her mates are keeping her busy—and Aisha’s dance company has just started rehearsal for a new show, which is taking up the brunt of her time. With Jasper stretched thin between his studies and pack duties, Mason is the only other person I can talk to. And he’s stuck in the mountains, in a pack that may or may not be harboring hostilities toward ours.
“I’ve got to say,” Mason says, sounding sort of tired, “things have been pretty weird since Morven came back from New York. This whole year has had a strange vibe.”
“What’s going on?”
“All pack dinners have been canceled. Morven and my dad have been in meetings with the other officers pretty much day and night.”
“What do you think they’re meeting about?”
“I dunno. Strategy? In case things fall through between our two packs.”
“Has your dad said anything?” Not that I’m trying to spy on the Rocky Pack, but getting a little bit of inside information from our rival pack’s beta, their second in command, could be useful.
“He said Morven is pissed.”
“Because of what Jasper did at New Year’s?”
“Sort of. I think it had more to do with the promises that had been made and broken. He feels humiliated. Morven is quite proud.”
“Do you think he’s going to turn on Jericho and the Elite Pack?”
There’s a pause and a muffled sound. Mason takes a long breath. “I don’t know.”
The sound of footsteps echo off the walls and I sit frozen for a moment, prepared to pull my feet up onto the toilet seat if whoever it is finds their way into the bathroom. But they pass by, the sound dwindling as the person moves away from the door.
“Sorry, thought my solitude was about to be interrupted.”
“It’s okay.” Another pause. “Look I shouldn’t tell you this but…”
My heart rate accelerates at the sound of Mason’s conspiratorial tone; I clutch my backpack tighter to my chest.
“Morven knows Jericho and Jasper have been visiting other packs. My dad said he’s worried your alpha is courting allies so he can turn on the Rocky Pack.”
“That’s nonsense,” I reply. “Jericho is just making sure we’re safe.”
“Maybe.” Mason doesn’t sound as convinced as I am. “Or maybe he’s trying to amass a contingent of packs so he has the advantage if things were to get…violent.”
A shiver passes through me from head to toe. My headache flares up just a little.
“You think things could get violent?”
Mason doesn’t respond but I picture him shrugging. “We’re wolves. Natural predators. Coveting territory is second nature to us. Violence is always a possibility.”
My head is swimming and not just because of the approaching migraine or the smell of toilet cleaner. Could the fracture between the Rocky and Elite Packs turn into something worse—something a lot worse? Could it turn into war?
It’s too much for me to consider right now. Jericho is a proud alpha, he’s strong, he’s known for his stature, his power. He wouldn’t shy away from brutality. But would he instigate it?
“Max, you still there?”
“Huh?” I shake myself free of my dread-filled thoughts. “Yeh, I’m here. How is Mia doing in all this?” I haven’t heard from Mia since she went back to the mountains with Morven.
Mason gives another sigh in response. “She’s…not great. She misses Olivia obviously. Truth is I haven’t seen all that much of her. Morven’s had her on a pretty tight leash.”
Anger flares in me bright and hot. How can he keep his daughter from her mate? It’s diabolical.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “Will you tell her I was asking after her? And that she can call me if she likes.”
“Of course.”
“And you?” I ask. “How are you holding up?”
“It’s hard not to feel pretty hopeless sometimes,” he says, breaking my heart.
A small spike of pain pricks at my brain. I can’t stand my friends feeling this lost and alone. Suddenly I feel majorly whiney for complaining about not having enough people to talk to, when in actuality I think maybe I’m one of the lucky ones. If only I could pass on a little of my luck.
“I wish I could be there,” I say. “The next time I talk to Jasper I’ll see if there’s anything we can do.”
“Sure.” I can practically hear Mason rolling his eyes.
“Why do you sound like that?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Come on, you can tell me.”
“It’s just…you think Jasper is going to do anything if it’s not what his dad wants?”
What is he implying? Yes, Jericho’s approval means a lot to Jasper. He cares way too much about what the pack needs. But he’s not a mindless drone.
“He’s not like that—I mean, not all the way like that.”
“I’m sorry. I know he’s your mate, but you have to be realistic. When it boils down, Jasper is a tool for his father to control.”
I want to hang up, flush my phone down the toilet, but I know Mason is probably acting out of some dark emotional place and not a place of truth. “That’s not fair.”
Mason takes a couple of breaths and when he speaks again his tone is noticeably lighter, like he’s trying his best to sound chipper. “I’m sorry. You’re right. That wasn’t fair to Jasper.”
I rub my neck, trying to adjust to the emotional whiplash. “Thanks.”
“Hey, listen, I’ve got to go,” Mason says, suddenly in a hurry to get off the call. “I’ll call you soon.”
“Yeah, okay—”
“See ya.”
Before I can say goodbye, Mason has hung up and I’m left in a daze. I sit in the cubicle, by myself in the quiet of the empty bathroom, until the bell rings and I need to head to class.
As I make my way to English I can’t help but wonder if Mason really does think Jasper is a simp for his dad. Does he really believe Jasper is just a mindless tool, an instrument his dad can use to manipulate situations? And if I’m with him, if I’m defending him, what does that make me? Does Mason think I’m a tool as well?
These thoughts plague me all the way through the rest of the day. I’m so preoccupied I hardly even notice the final bell ringing to release us.
On my way from the bus stop to my house I try calling Jasper, hoping he’s free and not in the middle of afternoon tea with some random wolf dignitary or cramming for an exam on human history.
“Hey!” he says, his voice like a balm, instantly calming me. “How are you?”
“I’ve had a bit of a day.”
“I’m sorry. I wish I could chat but I’m about to run into a class. Can I call you later?”
I sigh, but understand. It’s not Jasper’s fault the world goes on spinning when I’m in desperate need of some affection.
“Of course.”
“Whatever it is,” Jasper says, “we’ll figure it out.”
And just like that I’m satisfied. Jasper cares about his father and about our pack but he isn’t a mindless drone, a hapless tool, he’s a person who cares and wants to make things better. And I’m not a simp for believing that. I’ve seen him in action.
“Thanks.”
“I’m excited for spring break. I’ll be coming back to the city. We can have our second date.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I can’t wait.” My heart does a little leap, sticking the landing and saluting the judges with a flourish. “I can hear birds. Where are you?”
“I thought you had class.”
“I can be a minute late. Answer my question.”
“I’m just walking down my street, about to—”
My feet come to a standstill as my house comes into view.
“Max?”
I can’t quite believe what I’m seeing. Someone has graffitied our house, scrawled a word in red spray paint across the garage door.
“Max you there?”
I can’t answer, I’m too busy staring at the message left in large, aggressively angular letters:
TRAITOR
TRAITOR
A team of five gamma wolves, security officers from Alpha Jericho’s forces, are outside my house. Big people dressed in black suits and wool trench coats, wearing the same sunglasses—must be standard issue—poking around in bushes, wandering the perimeter of our property, and talking into their earpieces. I feel like the president or some big pop star with private bodyguards. Like Whitney Houston or something.
“Seriously, Jasper, I think this might be overkill.”
“Until we know who did this I’m not taking any chances,” he says through the phone.
“My neighbors are going to think there’s a bomb threat or something.”
Jasper twists his lips together and doesn’t say anything.
“You think there could be a bomb?!”
“We don’t know yet,” he says. “Clearly we’ve upset some people. I’m…” He stumbles and pauses. “I’m sorry it’s affecting you. I should be there.”
I roll my eyes and smile. “It’s just a bit of paint. Sure, it’s not ideal, but I don’t think I’m in imminent danger.”
“Still, I said I would keep you safe.”
Oy, this again. “We have a SWAT team combing the area for suspects,” I say. “We’re going to be safe.”
“Are your parents home yet?”
Speak of the wolf-devil. My mom’s car is slowly pulling up the drive. She and Dad carpool to the train and I usually beat them home after school. They pull to a stop as one of the security guards approaches. Mom rolls down her window, looking from the guard to the garage and to the house, possibly scanning for further damage. Dad jumps out his side and approaches the garage door. Begrudgingly, Mom puts the car in park, rolls up her window, and exits the car as well. Why aren’t they letting them park in the garage? Maybe something to do with contaminating a crime scene.
The beefy security guards shepherd my parents toward the door.
“They’ve just arrived,” I say, turning my attention back to Jasper, who’s still waiting for my reply. “I should go talk to them.”
“Okay.”
“And you should get to class. Don’t flunk out of Harvard because of me.”
“I’ll call you later,” he says and hangs up.
“Max!” Mom is calling for me before they’ve even made it halfway inside.
“In here!”
Mom and Dad arrive in the living room with wide, concerned eyes. Dad is scratching the back of his head and Mom has her arms out, coming straight for me.
“Are you okay?” She grabs me into a tight hug.
“I won’t be if you break my ribs,” I squeak out.
“Who did this?” she asks. I can only shrug in return.
“What does it mean? Traitor?” Dad asks, not to anyone in particular.
I sigh and run a hand over my face. “We think it’s for me. Because I’ve…I dunno, corrupted the alpha’s son, disrupted the family line or something.”
“That’s nonsense,” Mom says, turning to Dad for support.
“Absolute horse manure,” Dad says.
My folks are the best, always trying to be supportive, if not a little naive. I shake my head and shrug again, in a way that says This is just how the world works. The wolf world especially.
Mom stops looking at Dad and holds me in front of her, studying my face like she’s looking for obvious signs of distress, or physical injuries. Then before I know it she’s hugging me again, holding my head to her chest and stroking my hair.
“I’m so sorry, kiddo. It isn’t fair.”
She’s right, it isn’t fair. For most kids, having their first boyfriend is fun and exciting. For most wolves, finding your mate is something to celebrate, a wonderful gift for the community, the continuation of the species.
For me and Jasper, it’s a political statement—one not everyone is on board with, apparently.
“Thanks,” I mumble.
One of the security dudes pokes his head around the entrance to the living room, disrupting our semi-cozy moment. “We’ve searched the perimeter. You’re all clear. Whoever did this didn’t stick around. They must have just wanted to send a message.”
Message received. Hooray for them!
“Thanks,” Dad says.
“The alpha has requested two wolves be positioned outside for the next forty-eight hours. You’ll be safe.”
“Great,” Mom says, though she doesn’t sound so enthusiastic. I’m with her. I just want to be left alone.
“People are jerks,” Katie says, glancing at me from her lawn chair then turning back toward the garage door and calling out to Todd and Simon, who are in the middle of painting over the graffiti. “Keep up the good work boys!”
The bro-twins look over their shoulders and wave. Katie waves back and I nod my head from my seat. I felt a little weird about dragging these chairs from the back patio to the front lawn just to watch someone else paint over the graffiti that was meant for me, but now that we’re here it’s sort of fun—plus, from the way Todd and Simon are splattering each other with paint and chasing each other around like a couple of regular pups, they seem to be enjoying themselves.
“Thanks for coming,” I say. “And bringing reinforcements.”
“Of course. It’s really shitty of whoever did this. I hope Jericho finds them and excommunicates them.”
“Whoa, extreme much?”
Katie blushes. “Sorry, it just makes me really angry.”
Todd swipes his brush across the top of the T, the red disappearing behind the olive green my parents chose to repaint the door.
“Me too,” I say.
“I bet Jasper was steamed. I’m surprised he didn’t race back when he heard.”
“I had to convince him not to.”
“That’s sweet.” She glares at the garage and leans forward. “You missed the dot above the i!”
Simon looks from the door to Katie, shoots her a little salute with his paintbrush, and reaches up to green-out the dot.
“I’ll be seeing him soon anyway. He’s coming back for his birthday and spring break.”
“Oooh, boyfriend’s first birthday. Do you know what you’re going to get him?”
“No clue. Seriously, I’m more worried about that than whoever did this.”
“Really?” Katie says, skeptically chewing her bottom lip.
I laugh. “Mmm, I guess not. I am concerned about the party.”
“That’s right!” Katie says, eyes lighting up. “Jasper’s annual birthday ball. I can’t believe we’re both going this year!”
My shoulders slump forward. “Yeah.”
Jasper’s birthday isn’t just a familial affair. The whole pack celebrates the birth of the alpha’s son and every year a big event is held in his honor. It’s basically like a national holiday, only for werewolves.
“You’re not excited?”
“It’s just, since Jasper and I have been together properly we’ve barely seen each other, and he’s only in town for a week. A lot of that time is already booked up with meetings his father wants him to attend. We only have so much time, and the one night it would have been nice to do something just the two of us, we have to spend it with the crusty upper class of the Elite Pack. It’s not exactly romantic.”
“It’s nice though that he wants you there. It’ll be your first official appearance in front of the pack. It’s a big deal.”
“I suppose.” I take a long, deep breath and watch as the final strokes of paint cover up the red lettering. The word is gone. But I can’t help repeating it over and over again in my mind. Traitor. It’s scrawled on the back of my eyelids just like it was on the door. Is that what people think of me? Is that what the pack thinks of me? “I’ll tell you who is excited about being invited to their first big pack event.”
Katie leans over the arm of her chair excitedly. “Who?”
“Them.” I point in the direction of Mom and Dad, who have just appeared in the open doorway of the house, coming out to appraise the boys’ handiwork.
Katie squeals a little. “Cute!”
“Attending my first official event as the mate of the alpha’s son and my parents are coming…I can’t wait.”
Spring break rolls around, thankfully without another incident like Graffitigate, as I’ve taken to calling it. The last few weeks Jasper has been especially hard to reach, torn between exams, finishing up papers, and traveling to meet with more pack dignitaries—lately he’s been focusing on the five small packs along our southern border.
Even though Jasper hasn’t wanted to out of fear it’ll induce another migraine attack, I’ve tried a few times to access the mind-link. With no success. Each time I close my eyes to focus on my blood-wolf connection, exploring the endless sea of consciousness, I wind up clutching my head and groaning into my pillow. The dull headache that follows has become a constant companion. I might be holding up the aspirin market single-handedly.
As I wait for the elevator to arrive on the sixty-eighth story of the packhouse, where Jericho—and therefore Jasper’s—city apartment is located, I rub my temple and close my eyes, hoping my last hit of painkillers will kick in any minute.
