9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

I went into the kitchen to check on Noah. He was kneading bread, which I recognised as a therapeutic activity; beating the shit out of yeast always made me feel better.

I made myself a brew and one for him as well. Finley joined us a few moments later, his fists swollen and red, and Esme's sharp nose smelled the tang of blood. He might respect me and the home I'd given him, but he'd clearly seen the need to teach Harry, Max and Toby a lesson. I was conflicted: I didn't want the newcomers to be on the receiving end of violence, but I could understand that he was trying to protect our pack by making sure that Beckett's pack knew that we were not weak.

I could feel Esme's approval of his actions and her annoyance at me that the blood wasn't on our paws. They've had enough abuse from their alpha, I said firmly. We rule differently.

Yes, but respect is earned and they haven't given it to us yet.

We won't be respected if we beat the shit out of them. We'll be feared.

One leads to the other. She sniffed dismissively.

No, it doesn't, I said firmly .

Fear is all some of them have known. We have to speak in a language that they understand, then in time we can teach them a new one. She sounded pissed off and snooty, annoyed that I couldn't see her point of view.

In my head, I saw her turn her back on me. I let her have her snit; I was having my own. Clearly this was something we disagreed on. For me, piling more abuse onto the Devon pack wasn't the way to gain their trust. I wanted to point out that our approach had worked on our pack, but I didn't. It was time to let things lie and focus on Noah instead.

‘I want to be clear that you are pack, Noah,' I said into the comfortable silence. ‘You will always be pack. I will protect you because you are pack, and I will kill for you because you are pack.'

The only indication that Noah had heard me was a momentary pause in his kneading rhythm .

‘I am grateful for you helping Finley in the kitchen, but don't feel obliged to do so. Getting a job outside of the mansion won't lessen your contribution to the pack.'

Noah's shoulders slumped. ‘I don't feel safe when I'm off mansion lands.' His voice was whisper soft; he was ashamed of the admission. ‘I have no extra strength, no healing. I am less.'

‘You are not!' The words slammed out of me. ‘Noah, look at me. You are brave and honourable and true. You may stay at the mansion for as long as you want or need, but if there comes a time when you're ready to leave, don't hesitate to tell me.'

‘Thank you, alpha.' He ducked his head but still didn't make eye contact, then went back to kneading.

Noah was grieving the loss of his wolf, and who could blame him? The thought of losing Esme crippled me, even on a day like this when we were at loggerheads. My heart ached for him but I didn't know what I could do other than give him time and space to heal. It had only been a few days, and his loss was still raw and jagged; at that moment my platitudes must have sounded well-meaning but empty. With time and repetition, I hoped he would believe me .

I flicked my eyes at Finley then tilted my head towards Noah. Finley nodded fractionally; he would watch over Noah for me.

Appeased, I took my brew and went slowly back to my office. My office door was ajar: I had a visitor. I pushed the door fully open. ‘Jacob, I presume?' I asked the brown-haired, black-winged man standing by the security console.

‘You shouldn't leave this unmanned,' he said with a frown. ‘Anyone could interfere with the footage.'

‘It's usually manned,' I reassured him. ‘I was stationed at the desk, but there was a fracas that required my attention.'

He nodded graciously as if I had explained myself to his satisfaction, then looked curiously around the office. ‘Not much has changed,' he said finally.

‘Does it still feel like home?' The impudent question slipped out before I could call it back.

‘I have not had a home for a long time. The churches offered us sanctuary but not a home.'

‘Perhaps if you stay with us long enough, you will have a home again.'

He looked at me with green, piercing eyes. ‘Perhaps.'

‘You haven't sworn yet.' I looked at the former gargoyle with surprise.

‘It is with great effort that I am endeavouring to clean up my speech,' he admitted. ‘It was an odd side effect of the curse that I am glad to disavow.'

‘Reynard still loves to swear like a sailor.'

‘He delights in causing shock.' Jacob gave the smallest of wry smiles. ‘That is not my way.'

I studied his aquiline nose and his large eyes. He was a Samuel, and I knew without a shadow of doubt that he was Isiah Samuel's son because he was the spit of his father. ‘You're Isiah's son,' I said aloud.

He stared at the third triangle on my forehead. ‘I am.'

‘I promised him I would break the curse.'

‘And you kept your word,' Jacob said approvingly. ‘So now, with the Prime Elite's blessing, I am here to assist you.'

‘I thought that making you brethren made you devoted to Emory.' I said it as a statement but he heard the unspoken question. How was he able to be here?

‘It does, and I am. It is hard, being away from him,' he admitted, ‘but when I asked him if I could go, he ordered me to assist you. That order guides me and helps me cope with the separation.'

‘It is not painful for you?'

‘No,' he reassured me. ‘It feels a little unusual, but there is no discomfort. I know I am pleasing him by helping you.'

‘Well, I'm glad,' I said lamely. I studied him. At times Isiah had struck me as being cold and unfeeling, but he'd been passionate about his son. I wondered whether he had ever told him that? ‘Your father cared for you a great deal,' I said finally.

Jacob nodded. ‘He did. And now I wish to serve our pack in any way that I can.'

Greg entered the room. ‘You can start by helping me to secure the roof,' he said gruffly.

‘Of course,' said Jacob. ‘I require little rest. I can man the roof twenty-four hours a day.'

Greg blinked. ‘That's probably excessive. I would appreciate the presence of a guard, but you need respite even if you don't require rest.'

Jacob frowned. ‘Then I shall ask for more dark seraph to come. Three or four of us would enable us to mount a constant guard on the roof whilst allowing time for … respite.' He delivered the last word as if it were totally alien to him.

‘Do you think that Emory will be okay with that?' I asked with concern .

Greg grinned. ‘I suspect Emory is struggling with all the devotion. I think he'd probably be delighted.'

‘I concur,' Jacob said. ‘He finds our adoration uncomfortable. This will make things easier for him.' He looked pleased with himself as he reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a phone to text someone. Like Reynard, he wore no shirt and his rippling abs were on display. All of the dark seraph were physically strong, in stark contrast to the squat, weak bodies they'd had as gargoyles. No wonder they didn't feel the urge to hide away their torsos.

There was a knock on my door. ‘Come in,' I called.

Xander walked in; at my behest, he'd been acting as liaison between me and the Devon pack that I'd subsumed when I'd killed Beckett Frost. ‘I can come back,' he said when he saw Jacob.

‘It's fine,' I said. ‘What can I help you with?'

He wrung his hands for a moment before dropping to his knees. ‘I have failed you, my Queen,' he said unhappily. ‘I knew that the others were unhappy with Noah's presence and I should have stopped them.'

‘We can only be responsible for our own actions,' I said firmly. ‘You are not to blame for the actions of Max, Toby and Harry.'

‘What happened?' Greg asked, frowning.

‘They attacked Noah,' I explained. ‘I stepped in. Noah is fine.' Although now possibly agoraphobic.

‘If I had come to you sooner—' Xander started unhappily.

‘Don't waste time on shoulda, woulda, coulda,' I ordered. ‘It is done and it was not your fault. Hopefully the three of them will think twice before they attack anyone else.'

‘They certainly will.' Xander gave a sudden, youthful smile. ‘Finley knocked the stuffing out of them. Even three against one, they didn't stand a chance. He fights dirty.'

Finley had survived as a lone wolf for a long time, and in the recent tourney he'd rocketed into my pack at ninth position. It was no surprise that he was a scrapper.

‘I appreciate you coming to see me, and I appreciate your continued efforts to keep me abreast of how things are progressing with the Devon members, but do not think that I hold you accountable for their actions because I do not. Now, please stand.' It felt damned awkward having someone kneel to me, though I hoped it didn't show. When Xander looked at me, it was with a similar devotion to that which the dark seraph displayed to Emory.

He got to his feet and gave me a low bow. ‘Thank you for your time, alpha,' he said confidently, but then he hesitated.

‘Spit it out,' Greg ordered gruffly.

Xander cleared his throat. ‘I have been conducting discreet enquiries amongst the former Devon pack. So far I have not found indications that any of them knew anything about Larsden or Ramsey's death. I wish I had something more helpful to contribute.'

‘Did any of the Devon pack take part in, or watch, black tourneys?' I asked.

He winced. ‘All of us did at some time or other. Your men Harry, Max and Toby all took part recently. They were sent in rotation. Frost believed in toughening us up in the ring. He sent us young to strengthen us or die.'

My jaw worked. ‘That's horrific.'

Xander nodded. ‘Yeah. Until I met you, I didn't know there was another way to be. It's all we've ever known.'

‘It'll take some adjustment,' I cautioned.

‘Yes.' He paused again; something else was clearly on his mind.

‘Speak, Xander,' I ordered.

‘Harry, Max and Toby aren't bad people. I honestly think they believed – misguidedly – that you'd be grateful if Noah was removed from the equation.'

‘I have corrected that impression,' I said firmly. ‘Any further errors in judgement with regard to Noah will not be tolerated.'

‘I understand, alpha.' He ducked his head then backed out of the room without turning his back on me.

Does he not turn his back out of fear or respect? I asked Esme.

Fear, she murmured.

I grimaced. On some level even the devoted Xander feared me. Being feared was polar opposite to my pathological need to be liked.

This sucked.