Chapter Twenty-Five

Micah

She's not my patient. Not my patient. Not my patient.

I can't have it both ways, I keep telling myself. Either Faith is in my medical custody, or she's in my custody as an alpha. Caleb made that distinction very clear.

" I'm not assigning you to be her psychiatrist ."

Someone has to be, I want to tell him. She can't keep going on like this, chasing after a mate who may or may not be within our grasp, struggling to communicate, waking up three times a night in cold sweat. What she needs is proper rehabilitation. Somewhere she feels safe, and wanted.

A pack.

Our pack.

Suddenly my knees feel weak. I grip the kitchen counter, spinning the words around in my head.

I shouldn't be so surprised this is what my inner alpha wants. Even before Faith's heat, he sensed she was special. One look into those sharp blue eyes, and I knew exactly where she belonged.

Jaxon knows it too. I'm sure.

And as for Caleb …

The front door rattles. I spring to attention. "Faith?"

Almost instantly, her spiced lavender scent reaches out to me. I meet her and Jaxon in the foyer, checking them over.

"Hello to you too," Jaxon chuffs.

I run my hands down Faith's arms. "You're bruised. What were you guys—?" I recoil. "Oh. What is that ?"

"That would be Maverick's stink," Jaxon supplies. "Son of a bitch couldn't seem to decide if he wanted to fight her or fuck her."

It takes me a couple seconds for the words to sink in. "Wait. Does that mean the bruises—?"

"Courtesy of a quick holding cell showdown." Jaxon darkens. "Faith versus Mav."

Horrified, I guide Faith into the living room. "What was Caleb thinking ?"

"Tell me about it."

We sit on the couch. I ask Jaxon to grab the first aid kit. There's nothing much to treat, but I'll be damned if I can't at least get some ointment on those bruises.

Faith huffs. I'm fine, she signs, slowly, so I can read it.

I try to take a breath. "Sorry. You had me worried, that's all. It's weird to smell another alpha all over you."

Jaxon calls out from the bathroom—asking which kit I want. I tell him the green one, then turn back to Faith.

She's moved. Sitting back, tilting her head to one side, her neck exposed.

Heat courses through my veins. "You okay?" I ask hoarsely.

She runs two fingers down her pulse. Then, when I don't get the message, she does it again, harder.

My heart flutters. "Sign?"

She nods.

"What, uh … what does it mean?"

She eyes me meaningfully.

Slowly, giving her every opportunity to back out, I lean closer, then closer again, until I'm pressing the inside of my neck to hers. My scent rolls out as naturally as breath. Marking her. Letting her mark me.

A long, contented purr escapes me.

Blustering back into the room, Jaxon announces, "You said the green one, right? Well, I got that, but I also thought we could—" he stops. "Oh. Damn. Am I interrupting?"

Faith withdraws, making my inner alpha grumble. She reaches for her notepad.

DON'T LIKE WHEN YOU'RE ON EDGE, she explains, blushing ever-so-slightly.

I just about melt on the spot. Before I can say anything, Jaxon blurts out, "You know, I've also been feeling pretty on edge."

YOU'RE JUST PISSED OFF.

He pouts. "Isn't that the same thing?"

At both Faith's and Jaxon's surprised looks, I realize I'm laughing. I can't remember the last time things were like this in the den. Idle bantering. A smile I don't have to force. My head perfectly clear.

Maybe things have never been like this.

Jaxon manages to convince Faith, with just the right amount of begging, that he needs to scent her as well. She finally offers her wrist, watching as he rubs himself up and down the length of her arm.

I can't get enough of that scent. Not just of Jaxon, or me, but of all three of us.

Whole.

***

Caleb calls to let me know he'll be late for dinner. He sounds tense. Broodier than usual. But he hangs up before I can ask, so I raise the question with Jaxon.

"Oh yeah," Jaxon snorts. "He's probably still pissed. Really chewed me a new one."

I blink, suddenly grateful Faith is in the shower. "Did you challenge him?"

"He let Maverick fight Faith."

"I know, but … I'm sure he had a good reason."

"He did," Jaxon confesses, "and sure, it worked out in the end. But still." He huffs. " Maverick ."

I smile, sliding chopped onion into the pot.

"Apparently, by getting pissed at Maverick, I'm no better than Maverick." He scoffs. "Like that makes any sense. Mav picks one fight with our omega, and he thinks he's got dibs. I mean, you should've heard the way he spoke to her."

I sigh. "Jax …"

"Yeah, yeah. Already got the lecture from Caleb. She's not yours, Jaxon. Don't get carried away, Jaxon . Come on." He scowls, fidgeting with a placemat. "Like that ship hasn't already sailed."

Even if I want to agree with him, I can't discredit Caleb's reasoning. It's not as if Faith ever promised herself to Pack Wilder. She's unbonded, which means Maverick has as much right as the next alpha.

Though it pains me to imagine.

"It's bad enough competing with Fang," Jaxon mutters, "and he's not even here. Now I gotta deal with Maverick, too?"

I stir the pot. "You assume she's even interested in Maverick."

"Good point. Who'd ever be interested in that guy?"

I hesitate. Tall, brawny, larger-than-life alpha with dark red hair and steely grey eyes? I can think of a few.

The conversation presses on, though Jaxon does most of the talking, almost all of which is about how Maverick should piss back off to the military—maybe they'd be able to teach him some goddamn manners.

I keep my eye on the time. Caleb said he'd be back by eight. That's good. Gives me a couple hours to get my thoughts straight.

This isn't a problem that's just going to go away. Faith is only going to get more involved in our lives. Jaxon is only going to become more infatuated.

And I'm not going to be able to walk this line between psychiatrist and alpha much longer.