Chapter 16 - Devon

"I told Beth I'd try diplomacy, and that's what I'm going to do." Devon said, raising his voice now, trying to penetrate Emma's thick skull.

"God, when the rest of the pack hears about this Dev, they're going to lose their minds. We get chased out like dogs with our tails between our legs, and you're going to, what, walk over there with a bouquet of flowers and an apology? They'll rip you apart." Emma poured herself a drink from his bar cart, not botching to offer him one, though he could use the sharp burn of scotch right then.

"It's not how it's going to be anymore. I'll drag this pack kicking and screaming, if I have to, into the future. Either get on board or get out." Devon felt the joy of the weekend slipping away from him already. He wished he could have stayed in the bubble he'd entered with Beth forever. It was easier there, simpler. In it, he could believe that anything was possible.

He had to fight for every step of that future in the real world. And he could still feel the hurt in Beth when he"d shut her out of this meeting. It had been a mistake, he'd realized just after he'd done it, a moment of distrust when he wasn't certain what he'd hear from Emma.

He'd been afraid that Emma would tell him the pack had attacked a Rosewood while they were gone, or worse, killed one. He imagined Beth hearing that, just after they'd mated and shared their fears and dreams to each other, he couldn't stand the idea. So he'd decided to protect her.

The wrong choice. She was his partner. Hadn't they just agreed on that? He had to trust her to handle even the worst of times with him and be there to support her through them, as she would support him. But damn, if it wasn't hard to remember that in moments of strife.

Far easier to push her away for her own protection and take it on himself. Except he'd hurt her, broken their newly formed, delicate bridge of trust. Emma was still talking, but her words were floating in one ear and out the other—all of his thoughts were on Beth. He needed to patch things up with her.

Once he explained the situation, maybe she would forgive him. She probably had an idea of what to do about the recent ordeal. He had to let her in.

"Enough, Emma. I need to talk to Beth, and then we'll call a meeting." He slapped his hand down on his desk. The conversation was over.

Emma's lips thinned, a mutinous look on her face. She couldn't stop herself from getting in one more jab. "You're really going to tell a Rosewood about this?"

He pointed at the door. She stared him down and a heavy silence filled the room. Finally, she turned, flicking her ponytail over her shoulder as she stormed out of the room. Despite what he'd told Emma, he did not immediately go find Beth. Part of it was guilt, and the rest, something that shamed him even deeper, a seed of doubt.

Was Emma right, in her own misguided way? Beth was a Rosewood, she always would be in some way. Turning to her, this was asking her to betray her pack. Devon didn't know if he could rely on her for advice that took the White Winter, rather than the Rosewood's, best interests to heart.

Maybe she wouldn't even be aware of her bias, but it would pervade her counsel. It would be the undercurrent to all of her guidance, a lean that would benefit and protect the Rosewoods above all else. After all, she had advised him to seek a peaceful treaty with the Rosewoods, rather than a battle that might win the White Winters the entirety of the territory.

Thoughts heavy, he carried the backpack to his bedroom and set it down in the corner. It wasn't as easy to put away the memories of the weekend they'd shared. Beth had come to him eagerly, willingly, in a way that had surprised him. He hadn't thought twice of it in the moment, too elated to hold her, to have her the way he had dreamed of having her. Now, in the light of day, he wondered if it hadn't been part of a plan.

She was sharp. Intelligent. And faithful. She might use her guile to burrow into his heart and lead him down the path she wanted, which made sure the Rosewoods came out on top. He didn't want to believe it, but he had to consider it, for the good of his pack.

Emma's words stung like a slap. She called his loyalty to the pack in question, believing his fondness for Beth was superseding it. It wasn't, of course, but her thoughts were undoubtedly a reflection of the pack as a whole.

He shouldn't have gone away for the weekend. It had been a stupid, impulsive decision, and it had left the pack vulnerable, and unsure without their leader. Emma would have stepped in to lead them.

In his head, he carried a tally board of his achievements and stacked them up beside Emma's. As the pack"s loyalties shifted, he moved the pieces around on the board. At the moment, they were stacked heavily in Emma's favor, and if he didn't do something, he wouldn't have a pack to worry about.

Losing the pack would be dropping the board entirely. The thought left him empty. Without them, he'd have accomplished nothing in his life, not really. His father's disappointment loomed like a specter in the room, haunting his steps as he showered and changed and stalled, everything he could make up an excuse to do until, suddenly, there was nothing left to do but find Beth.

A knock at his door delayed him. Jonah. He was disheveled, bags under his eyes like he hadn't slept. They looked incongruous in his boyish face, but Devon recognized them. Leading the pack would do that for you, even if it was a temporary role.

"What is it, Jo? I've got to find Beth." He was impatient now, even though he'd be stalling.

Jonah scratched the back of his head, grimacing. "That's what I came here to talk to you about, actually. Whatever you did man, you'd better fix it up and fast. She's pissed. Like beating the snot out of a punching bag pissed. I've never seen her violent before and I didn't like it, like watching a bunny grow fangs."

Devon found it hard to imagine. Beth had fire, passion, but violence? She'd done everything she could to avoid it, even when provoked by Emma, for God's sake, and everyone wanted to smack Emma at one point or another.

He sighed, bone-weary and wishing he could rewind the last three hours. Hopefully, he hadn't damaged anything beyond repair.

"Yeah, I screwed up. Big time." If he thought it would have helped, he'd get her flowers, a box of chocolates, a teddy bear, any of the things high school dramas had taught him would ease the apology. But he was too old to believe they would help, and Beth was too smart to be swayed.

"What happened?" Jonah pressed, moving to the side so Devon could join him in the hall. He held two fingers crooked in front of his mouth and hissed, vampire-like. "A rabid bunny, Dev. Unnatural."

"Emma got in my ear the second we got back, and suddenly, everything twisted. We were supposed to be moving forward as partners, but the second I had a chance to prove that I meant those words, I blocked her out. Shit. She's never going to forgive me." His hand clenched into a fist. If only he'd had a punching bag right then. But like teddy bears and roses, punching was a temporary band-aid.

Jonah let out a low whistle. "That doesn't sound good. Wasn't that trip supposed to be about the two of you bonding? Isn't that why she dragged you out there?"

"Well, I did the dragging, really, but do you see the problem now?" Devon groaned. "But even now, I can't help but worry that what Emma said was right."

He said it low, looking over his shoulder to make sure they were alone, but uttering the words out loud still filled him with guilt. If Beth overhead that, it'd be the final nail in the coffin. Unless he'd already driven that in.

"First of all, think about what you just said." Jonah stopped him in the hall and fixed him dead in the eye.

"She's still a Rosewood, despite everything. How could she not be? They were her family." Devon felt sick. He pleaded with Jonah like a boy, laying bare his deepest fears bare. Best friend or not, he knew Jonah would see the weakness for what it was, and Devon couldn't blame him.

He pushed Jonah away, one hand on the other man's shoulder. "Forget about it, okay? I've got this. Tell everyone to meet up in two hours in the kitchen."

Jonah's mouth opened like he was going to protest, but the look in Devon's eye made him snap his mouth shut. Shaking his head, he walked away.

Great job, Devon, push away the two people who seem to give a damn about you, all in the same day. Then you can be an isolated and bitter old man just like your father. The taunting voice inside his head hurled insults the entire walk to Beth's room. The closer he got to her door, the longer the hallway seemed to stretch, the slower his steps seemed to become. Until he was there, standing in front of her door, empty-handed. Maybe he should have gotten the teddy bear after all.

He knocked and waited, expecting her to shout a "come in" or a "who's there," but the door opened, and she was there in front of her, wet-haired and smelling of shampoo. She wore a sundress, butter yellow with white, embroidered daises and bare feet. Her face was bare. She looked young, beautiful, and pissed off.

"What do you want, Devon?" She stuck her head out of the door and looked up and down the hall. "Oh, no armed guard accompanying you? No one you want to post up outside the door of this dangerous Rosewood?"

Jonah's assessment of a fanged bunny had been too mild—she was a she-wolf, backed against the cliff. Something was broken in her eyes, and Devon hadn't seen her so distraught since she'd first arrived.

"Was it just a game to you?" She went on, bracing her hands on either side of the doorway, blocking him from coming in. If he'd dared. "Get me to let my guard down, get me to sleep with you, then treat me like dirt again?"

Her words struck his chest like arrows. Even his father's words hadn't lanced so deeply."I thought you were just misguided before," she said, quiet but venomous, "now I see you're a monster far past the point of saving."

"Beth," he interrupted as she took a breath before she could launch another verbal assault. "Let me in, let me explain things to you."

Her eyes widened, and she drew back with a cold, short laugh. "What explanation could you possibly give that you think would make this okay?"

They both shared that skepticism. He wasn't sure one existed, either, but he at least had to try.

"Well, it starts with ‘I'm a complete idiot,'" he said, daring a small smile.

She didn't soften, but she crossed her arms over her chest and nodded toward her bed, letting him into her room. At that point, it felt like a life preserver, and he grabbed onto it with both hands.

"What do you have to say for yourself now that we've gotten the obvious out of the way?" She stood beside the bed while he sat down on it, leaning forward to put his head in his hands.

He didn't deserve her. The realization struck him suddenly, and he felt like a fool for not seeing it before. She was a far better person than he could ever dream of being, and here she was yet again, giving him a chance. How many had he already gotten, and how many did he have left? He didn't want to find out.

"I was nervous to leave the pack when we did, especially with Jonah and Emma leading them. When we got back, Emma said something had happened. Well, I thought my worst fears were coming true, and it was finally happening. I was losing the pack." He realized how pathetic it sounded even as the words left his mouth. His father would have laughed in his face—spilling his guts to his second in command and his mate? He might as well roll over and show his vulnerable throat to the world.

Beth waited for more, eyes distant. The silence stretched on, but Devon couldn't force out another word, not with his father's derision stopping his tongue.

"That's it? You got scared, so the first thing you thought to do was shut me out?" Beth sounded exasperated and, worse, hurt. And why wouldn't she be? He'd failed her.

Devon threw up his hands, felt the reliable streak of anger spark beneath his shame. "And maybe I thought great, Beth knew I was leaving the pack alone and found a way to tell her pack it would be a good time to strike."

She reeled back as if he'd slapped her. In a sick way, it was what he wanted. He wanted her to rage at him, yell at him, tell him that he was every bit as pathetic as he knew he was. Devon surged to his feet, ready to take whatever she threw at him, but when her words came they were cold, seeping into him like frostbite.

"After you promised me this time, we'd move forward together? After that, after everything we shared, your first thought was that I would betray you?"

Fat tears rolled down her cheeks, dripping off her jaw to splatter her dress like rain. They were harder to take than her anger. Devon turned away, unable to face her hurt.

"Don't," she said, crossing the distance between them and taking his chin in her hand, wrenching it around to face her. "Don't you dare hide from me. What kind of person do you think I am? I meant what I said to you in the cabin. I just thought you meant it, too."

She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of dropping down to his level, of fighting like he wanted to fight, and he almost hated her for that. Almost. Since he couldn't fight, he wanted to hide, anything but stand there and listen to how she felt, and accept how he'd hurt her.

"I did mean it, of course, I did," he said when the silence had gone on too long, and the disappointment and hurt on her face had started to calcify into something more like resignation.

She waited, expecting more, but he had no explanation to justify his actions, so he gave nothing at all.

"Do you remember what I said about the White Winters? They've done terrible, awful things, but it does not mean they are past the point of redemption. They can't get there without accepting their actions and who they are." She wrapped her arms around herself again, looking past Devon to the window behind him. You need to accept it, too, Devon. You're scared, so you're swayable. When you think violence will make you an alpha, you're violent. When you think peace will make you an alpha, you're peaceful. You're my partner one second, and locking me out of the room the next."

Devon collapsed back onto the bed like a puppet with his strings cut. He could hear the truth in her words, and he hated them, hated her for it. They were not so unlike the ones his father had said to him so long ago, delivered without the physical blows, the drunken yelling, the threats of disownment. His father's specter grew until it seemed to fill the room.

Beth sat down beside him, hands in her lap. "We all have our flaws. It's okay to have them. But you can't please everyone, and trying to is only going to drive you crazy. What matters to you? Start there."

Cautiously, he reached for her hand. "You matter to me."

She didn't recoil from his touch or seem to see his father's shadow behind him. Interlacing her fingers with his, she said, "Then don't ever lock me out again. I don't expect you to be perfect, but I can expect that much. If you ever treat me like that again, I will leave, Devon, and I won't go to the Rosewoods, or anywhere else you can find me."

Her matter-of-fact words, spoken out loud, had the weight of an oath. He took them seriously. "I promise I'll try. But you know what they say about an old dog and new tricks."

"Then be a wolf," she said, kissing his cheek.

***

"Why is she here?" Emma froze in the doorway, glaring at Beth with naked hatred. "She's probably the reason the Rosewoods—"

"Say one more word, and you'll be sitting this out," Beth snapped before Devon could open his mouth.

The pack was gathered in the kitchen. Beer bottles in hands, they draped themselves in chairs and filled the room with a charged, anticipatory energy, like a sports team before the final game. Or, less generously, barbarians eager for the call to battle. A single word would set them off, and they watched the volley between Beth and Emma with keen interest.

Jonah was at the oven, pulling out dish after dish. He buried himself in cooking when the tensions rose, Devon thought, a way to be a part of the pack without taking part in the worst moments of it. He wondered, watching his best friend stir a saucepan with a look of complete concentration, if Jonah ever regretted following him down this road.

"And are you going to make me?" Emma snarled.

"We will," Devon said, touching Beth's lower back and guiding her to a chair. They took their spots at the head of the table. Jonah had set it for two, and neither of them minded the snugness, their knees bumping under the table. "So sit down or get out."

Emma snapped her mouth shut and shot Caleb a look. He shrugged, good man, and took a seat on Devon's other side. Devon raised his beer to him.

Maybe Emma's hold on him was slipping, or maybe he'd fallen in deep with Amy; whatever it was, Devon was grateful for one more wolf solidly on his side. Now, he just had to convince the rest of the pack to get there as well. Beth squeezed his thigh, a silent reminder that she was there and had his back now. He didn't have to do this alone.

They'd talked until Devon's throat was sore, and the ghost of his father, so solid before, had shrunken down to almost nothing. He'd laid out his guts for Beth, and she hadn't laughed at him or been repulsed by his weakness. Hadn't even thought it was a weakness. He was still getting used to the idea.

"What's all this about?" Caleb asked, gesturing around the kitchen. "Not just an excuse for some of Jonah's cooking, is it? He's been down here for hours. Think there's even a dessert."

"There is," Jonah piped in, setting a serving tray down on the table, then following it up with three more.

Devon thought he heard the table groan. The food was steaming. Golden-skinned chicken, plump rolls, heaping mounds of mashed potatoes, and a variety of roasted vegetables pulled from their garden.

Beth's eyes were wide with wonder.

"This is your first Jonah feast, isn't it?" Devon laughed.

It must seem incongruous, a king's feast set down for the coarsest of men. But it was a way for Jonah to fit in, to be needed, where he might have otherwise been ostracized for his softer ways.

"You're wasted on this place," Beth said to Jonah when he sat down beside her, hanging his apron on the back of his chair. "You should be working at a fancy restaurant. I don't think these men taste half their food before they swallow it."

It was true. They dug in with gusto, tearing into the food like they only had five minutes to eat. Devon pulled a platter closer, where Beth could reach it without fear of getting her hand bitten off.

"Ah, but would a fine dining establishment always provide these high-drama shows?" Jonah asked, spearing an asparagus with his fork. "Besides, I'm not professionally trained. Just me with too much time on my hands, a lot of cookbooks, and this amazing kitchen that deserved to be used."

"Don't talk our chef into finding something better," Caleb said, brows drawn together, "I can forgive you being a Rosewood, mostly, but I could never forgive that."

Cries of "hear hear" rang out around the table. Jonah blushed, looking down at his plate to hide his pink cheeks.

Emma took her time sitting, leaning against the counter and downing her bottle of beer, grabbing another before sliding into the seat beside Caleb. Her eyes were fixed on Beth throughout, though Beth was pointedly looking anywhere but at Emma. Caleb squirmed in his chair.

"We could cut this tension with a knife, Em, maybe tone it down a little? Have another beer." Caleb nudged her beer closer.

She took a long drink from the bottle and then flicked her gaze over to Devon. "Enough delay; what are we going to do? When do we attack?"

The table quieted. All eyes were on Devon now, and Beth beside him. He found her hand under the table and held it tightly.

"I want to clear something up first, though it shouldn't have to be said. Rumors travel quickly in this house, and the false, the faster. Beth had nothing to do with this attack. She did not give information to the Rosewoods." Beth's legs were shaking. He couldn't blame her. If they turned against her, things could get bloody. He went on, meeting the eyes of every man in turn. "As a precaution, to reassure all of you, she will be kept, once again, under guard until this matter is passed."

Agreed upon or not, it made him sick to think of Beth as a prisoner again. His prisoner. Still, they had a plan, and he was going to stick to it. Emma looked at first mutinous, then delighted.

"I'll stand guard," she offered, holding up a hand.

The rest of the table chittered.

"And we will not be attacking the Rosewoods in retaliation, nor will we attempt to wrest control back of that territory. Not now." Devon waited a moment for the uproar to die down.

"Dude, where are you going with this," Jonah hissed, for only Devon to hear. He looked ready to leap to Beth's defense. Good, they might need it.

"We will use Beth as bait to get the Rosewoods close, then as a hostage to make a deal."

None of them had expected this. Silence fell over the table as the men shared looks. Emma was sucking on the inside of her cheek, looking down into the bottleneck of her beer. She would think it through faster than the rest of them.

"They'll want her back," Emma said, the first to break the silence. "And you're going to give her to them, our luna?"

Of course, now she was their luna. Only when it suited Emma's purposes.

"Obviously not. She's mine, and I'm keeping her." He gave a wolfish grin as Beth kicked him under the table. He had a part to play, and he might as well enjoy it a little. "We just let them think it's going to happen, get them out of the territory, deal signed, then back out of it.

It wouldn't be nearly that simple, but that's all the pack needed to know. Hunched over Beth's small bedroom desk, they'd worked out the plan repeatedly. He thought back to their quiet plotting and felt a surge of protectiveness for her, of affection. His good, sweet Beth could be devious when she needed to be.

"Do you think they'll buy it?" She'd asked, biting the end of a pencil instead of her lip. He leaned over to kiss her, since the space was unoccupied. "They need, for this to work. They won't just go along with a peaceful plan."

"I think we can do it, but…" Devon had trailed off, hating to ask for it, hating to hurt her anymore.

"What is it?" Beth had caught his hesitance immediately.

"I think we should put you back in confinement. It keeps you safe and shows that I'm not just trusting you blindly. We shouldn't act too comfortable with each other, either. Let them think we're still fighting."

"We are still fighting," Beth said, poking him in the chest with the eraser. "You are still in serious trouble. This is just the first step toward you getting out of said trouble. Trouble with me, trouble with your sister, trouble with your pack."

She'd counted his problems off on her fingers, one by one. He'd never enjoyed a lecture more.

Devon focused again on the present, resisting the urge to look over at Beth and make sure she was still on board with the plan. He just had to trust her.

"We get the land, we keep our luna, and the Rosewoods are no longer our problem to deal with. We can expand as we please up here," Devon finished.

He looked to Jonah first. He hadn't told them about the plan, not yet, because Jonah was the worst poker player in the world. If he'd known the truth of the matter, it'd be written all over his face. Out of the loop, Jonah's face was wrinkled with worry. Good, they were selling it.

Emma, for once, seemed struck silent. She peeled the label off her beer bottle into long, narrow strips, and piled them next to her plate.

It was Caleb who broke the silence. He slapped the table and got to his feet, raising his beer bottle in a toast.

"To a whole new world, boys!" He crowed, then he turned and raised his beer again, this time toward the head of the table where Devon and Beth sat. "And to our Alpha and Luna and the pile of puppies we expect from you!"

Beth choked on her water. Devon raised his beer and clinked it against Caleb's and everyone else he could reach. Even Emma, in the end, joined in. Only Beth refrained, playing, he hoped, just playing, the reluctant prisoner.

When he took his seat again, he let his hand fall onto her lap. Only after he felt Beth"s smaller, softer hand settle into his own could he breathe out.