Chapter 1

Chapter One

Lilliana

"We can't make a move until we know exactly what's going on over in Montrose." Uncle Dom's voice is deep and decisive. "We have no idea why Nielsen suddenly decided to claim him, for starters."

Roxanne's tone is more measured. "I have a hunch it's Derrek suddenly coming into his abilities, and using them to help our alpha. That could mean he's in very real danger, and we should act sooner rather than later."

I've long since grown tired of this conversation, and instead my eyes have glazed over while I stare at the fire from my favorite seat in the library. I should be making all the decisions, calling all the shots; but I'm more than a little terrified of making the wrong choice, and incredibly distracted by my own thoughts.

Besides, I'm lacking my support system. Jared and Landon had to help one of their dads with… something. I didn't really pay attention to their exhaustive explanation, to be honest. Milo's in the house, but he went to change and fetch something from the kitchen.

"The alpha won't do anything to his only heir. Especially not one who can cast spells." Sarcasm heavily laces Dom's dismissive reply.

"You can't know that. He already has a witch. He doesn't need Derrek for his magic. In fact, he has a vested interest in making sure we don't have access to a similarly powerful person." Roxanne is beginning to sound exasperated. "Lily already told us Derrek didn't know who his father was, even being part of the pack for all those years. Is it so hard to believe that Nielsen didn't know, either?"

"So what?" He counters.

Milo slips into the room and hands me a steaming mug—a latte, from the scent of it—then sits beside me and nudges me with his elbow. "Sure you don't want to get in on this?" He thrusts his chin in their direction. "It sounds like they're trying to make plans without you, and you're supposed to be the one telling them what to do."

He's freshly cleaned up—his cedar scent sweet and mingling nicely with the steaming mug of coffee in his long fingers—and sporting a black button-down shirt rolled to the elbows with faded jeans. The warm, familiar vibration of physical contact with my fated washes over my skin.

His arrival jolts me out of my haze, and I turn to smile at him ruefully. "They haven't gotten anywhere in the last two hours, and I really don't feel up to arguing anymore." No need to explain how distraught I am that Derrek is being held captive; he already knows. Even if he didn't like him before, Milo appreciates Derrek is important to me, and the warlock's dramatic rescue last night tipped all of my fated to a more favorable opinion of their former rival.

I shift my weight away from the arm of the couch and press myself against his body, taking comfort in the solid warmth of him.

"You could always give them an alpha command to stop," he suggests with a very subtle note of teasing.

My belly contracts and pushes out a hint of a snort. "It's an entertaining idea, but I think it would be disrespectful to the former alpha, not to mention the beta who's literally taught me everything I know about being a wolf. Besides, their hearts are in the right place. They want all the same things I want. And it's a terrible leader who doesn't listen to the people around her."

Milo considers for a moment. "Weeeeell, you could just command them to take a break and go find another way to work out all that sexual tension," he lowers his voice suggestively.

This time, my snort is more of a giggle than a sarcastic dismissal. "This is hardly the time, Milo."

He shrugs. "Hey, I'm just saying, I think they have some stuff to work out and maybe it'll take the edge off."

Roxanne's tone rises an octave. "You can't be afraid to make a move, Dom."

Milo and I exchange a glance; he raises an eyebrow and I pinch my lip between my teeth.

Dom's voice rises. "There's absolutely no excuse to go in half-cocked."

"I didn't say anything about half-cocked, but if we wait too long, it may never happen."

A steady gurgle of noise rumbles in Milo's chest, and his cheeks turn pink with the effort to hold in his laughter. I can appreciate the humor, but I'm hardly in the mood for dirty jokes.

Heaving a sigh, I push to my feet and feel Milo rise behind me in solidarity while I reenter the conversation. "We need to get Derrek, and soon. There's plenty of reasons that Nielsen might hurt him, and plenty of reasons we need him on our side, on our territory."

Dom waves a hand dismissively. "Your teenage impulses are getting the better of you. As someone who had decades of experience as alpha, you need to remember I have the perspective here."

Roxanne glances my way with worried eyes.

Fury bubbles up in my stomach, my skin heating all over with rage as my wolf tries and fails to claw her way out. "That's a bold statement from the man who disappeared the second I became alpha and left me to take over this curse at eighteen. The man who kept all of this," I wave my hand around, indicating far more than the lush library, "a secret from me for over a year. A year I could have been preparing, could have used to learn and maybe even tried to work on finding the cure. We haven't even addressed that deception — obviously you wanted to wait until I was trapped before you told me the truth.

"But now you're back and just think you're running the show again? Have you forgotten who I am?" Even though I'm not giving a command, the double-timbre of the alpha voice reverberates in my chest.

Now that it's unleashed, my anger swells to fill me from top to bottom. "I've listened to you two bicker for the last two hours about what you think you should do with my pack. Every time Roxanne speaks, you dismiss her as if she reports to you. She's my beta, and you have apparently failed to realize that you fall below her now.

"When I tried to inject a word into the conversation, it was like the two of you didn't even hear me. I thought I'd wait out your little argument and then we could start doing something actually useful, but I'm tired of it. You both need to sort out your issues so you can actually contribute something useful."

Roxanne and Dom exchange a glance, and my uncle lowers himself back to his seat with a red face.

"I'm sorry, Lily," Roxanne is the first to speak. "You're right, of course. We spent so many years making decisions together, I guess it was easy to fall into old ways."

"Apologies, Lilliana," Dom adds stiffly.

"Milo and I are going to get some lunch and leave you guys to hash it out. When we come back, we'll refocus on Derrek."

Milo and I grab a quick lunch from the kitchen and retreat to my room. But even though I'm mentally exhausted and snuggled up next to him, I can't seem to sit still.

"What about this one?" Milo is clicking through my Netflix list, just pulling up shows I've earmarked to watch and trying to tempt me with some distraction.

"Sure, whatever you want to watch," I respond vaguely, my eyes gazing, unfocused, out the windows. It's a beautiful, bright fall afternoon. I imagine the air is crisp and the breeze sharp. A restless energy zips up and down my legs, despite Milo's calming presence.

"But what do you want to watch, Lily?" A gentle finger tips my chin up and toward Milo, whose intense eyes claim my own.

My head shakes back and forth, shoulders rising as I struggle to pull together a thought. Frustration builds within me, and I sigh heavily. "If I'm honest, I don't really want to watch tv." My gaze drifts back to the bright sunlight pouring in through the window. "I think I want to go for a walk." I know immediately that's the right choice, and my heart lightens just a smidge. Standing, I move toward my room to find some shoes.

"Okay, a walk sounds great," Milo replies, also rising.

I freeze in my tracks. I don't want to hurt his feelings, but I realize that I'm internally screaming for space, for a moment alone.

Turning slowly, I face him. "I'm sorry, would you mind staying back? I think I just want a little time to myself. I haven't really gotten time to process everything."

A muscle flexing in his jaw is Milo's only reaction, and it's a moment before he responds. "Are you sure that's wise? After so many people got on pack lands last night, we don't know who may have access to this property right now."

"It's alright, Dom showed me how to lock down the territory last night. For the time being, no one who is not pack can cross into town, even with the invitation of someone from the pack. They caught most of Jean-Yves' friends last night, and I kicked the others from the pack so they won't be able to reenter. It'll be fine."

He looks as if he wants to argue, but something, some tell on my face or in my expression, stops him.

I always thought Landon was the one who could read my emotions the most clearly, but perhaps I haven't given Milo enough credit.

"Okay, if that's what you want," he concedes with a small smile. "I'll touch base with Landon and Jared while you're out. Is there anything else you want me to do?"

I dive for his chest and hug him tightly, breathing in his comforting fragrance. "No, that's perfect," I murmur into his shirt. "I won't be long, promise. I just… need some air."

Warm arms wrap around my shoulders, and his lips press lightly to the top of my head. "I understand. Just please take your phone with you, just in case."

Stepping back with a grin, I hold the device up. "Never leave home without it!"

It only takes me a few minutes to get appropriately dressed for the weather and slip outside. The icy breeze is refreshing, biting at my cheeks and carrying a fragrance of fresh pine and burning leaves. My feet steer toward the path that leads back to the greenhouses, and my spirits lift immediately. I draw in a deep lungful of the chilly air, wrapping my scarf closer around my neck, and try to breathe out the stress one exhale at a time. Finally free of prying eyes and concerned gazes, the tears begin to trickle down my cheeks.

Walking gets my blood pumping and shakes out the stiff feeling of being cooped up and frustrated, but it doesn't entirely solve my problem.

Derrek. The pain I've felt since Nielsen took him away has changed from a sharp, stabbing sensation to a deep throbbing wound in my heart that feels as though it keeps bleeding. I've ignored it for a few moments at a time, only to be surprised by a searing pang shortly thereafter. It's been all but impossible to focus on making plans when I'm actively working to suppress the agony of my mate being ripped from my fingers.

I haven't told anyone what he truly means to me. How would I even begin to explain that this man, who is half warlock and half wolf from our enemy pack, is apparently my fated mate? For generations of Harridan alphas, there have been three fated mates from the same families. Ever since the split. And the biases of these people— my people—run so deeply, I don't even know if they'd accept it coming from me, the alpha.

Not to mention my other three fated. They grew up together, practically brothers, for their entire lives. And they've never liked Derrek. Their inherent mistrust was seemingly vindicated when he turned out to be part of the Montrose pack. His rescue last night earned him grudging acceptance, but something told me they were a long way from calling him brother.

A guilty feeling temporarily replaces the ache in my chest. At least I understand now why I was so impossibly attracted to Derrek despite having my three fated. It's hard to wrap my head around why I didn't recognize it for what it was; there could be many reasons to explain why my connection to him had felt so different from the others. Probably a whole ton of mystical wolf crap I will never understand. But my mind churns over what Mr. Carson told me, and everything I learned from Roxanne.

Prior to the split, the Harridan alphas would take several mates from the existing eight key families, as many as they felt the connection to. It was only after the split that it was just three mates, because the bulk of the other four families splintered off. There has to be some connection with them still; this group of families had been together for centuries as a pack.

And since they never interacted again after my great great aunt—or was it three greats?—died because of the curse, there was no way of knowing if the subsequent alphas would have claimed anyone from Montrose as a mate.

So it's not surprising this has never come up before, but I'm still uncertain about what to do with it, or what it means.

My feet follow the path to the midnight gathering place, seemingly of their own volition, while my brain works over thornier problems.

I'm fairly certain that if Dom and Roxanne knew Derrek is my fated mate, there would be much less deliberation and much more action in the rescue mission. But I'm not ready to tell the rest of my fated, and I'm uncertain how the pack would react if they found out. As annoying as it is, Dom's insistence on caution makes sense. Even though my heart is bleeding for him and my wolf would like nothing more than to tear out a few throats to get him back, I know I can't put my pack at risk without first considering all the information carefully.

I have no way to be certain, but it sure feels like the Montrose alpha knew what he was doing when he ripped Derrek from my hands. I don't know what exactly is tipping me off, but I can't shake the feeling that lingered when he left: a deep, malignant hatred, the intent to injure so intensely that it goes well beyond simply acknowledging his own child.

Something is telling me knew it would hurt me, and he did it expressly for that purpose.

But the question remains: How did he know before I even knew myself?

It's like every answer I get in Smoky Falls just leads to five more questions. A heavy feeling of despair wars with my innate need to keep moving forward for the protection of the pack. Now that I've connected with it, it's become second nature to tap into the energy of the people across my pack territory. Scanning their collective emotional color map for problems is almost a calming activity for me now, reassuring me that my people are mostly safe, content, and happy.

If only I felt the same way.

I don't know how long I can keep the truth of what Derrek means to me from my family, and particularly Milo, Jared, and Landon. It seems impossible to feel content and relaxed in their presence now, knowing that I'm still not whole . Never mind that now the tables have turned and I'm the one keeping secrets from all of them.

I finally reach the clearing, and march straight to the center where a pile of browning leaves is bathed in sunlight. I sit with crossed legs and release another deep sigh, letting the warm glow heat my cheeks.

Despite knowing how they've wronged me, I can almost sympathize with Peter Jean-Yves and my mother's other rejected mate. This feeling could almost drive me mad, if I let it. And I didn't grow up knowing Derrek was meant to be my mate, then face the aftermath of him leaving by choice. At least in my case, he had no say in the matter.

If my situation were different, I could imagine the bitterness settling in; hardening like a shell around the hurt, trying to protect me from this deep wound so I might find a way to keep on living.

Would I grow to resent the rejection so much I projected that hatred onto his offspring? There's no way of knowing. My eyes continue to leak, and I've done nothing to wipe the tracks from my face as they make their way down to my chin and soak into my scarf.

I'll sit here as long as it takes for the pressure to dissipate and my eyes to dry. Then I'll head back into the house and start again on finding a solution to this mess.