4. Deacon

Present

My favorite part of the day is always picking Grace up from work. As the days grew closer to the retreat, we have had less time together than usual, so getting a little of our routine back is nice.

My cock certainly needs the next forty-eight uninterrupted hours to prepare for the next seven and a half months with only my hand. I hop off my motorcycle, wincing as my legs struggle to hold me after the last ten hours of training. My irritation over not getting to leave with everyone else hours ago boils under my skin, bringing my wolf back to the surface. I can still hear the order from my Alpha as I held my plank for the eighth minute straight.

"I believe having one-on-one conditioning before he leaves would benefit him. I wouldn't want him embarrassing us with his subpar skills or training. The others can go, but Cadet Marlo will put in two more full cycles before he may be dismissed. And, Enforcer Mikalson, if he quits before then, I would like to be notified, immediately."

Before I can let anger ruin my mood, I pull myself back to the present and notice for the first time how empty the lot is, save for the lifted, oversized Dodge Ram parked by the entrance.

Fucking Greg.

That dude really had a death wish. He's lucky he stays the fuck away from me because I don't give a damn who his daddy is. If he's bothering Grace, I'll kill him for fun.

Wouldn't take long.

Increasing the pace of my stride, I half jog to the glass doors of the cafe, which are typically completely transparent. However, for the upcoming holiday, they are decorated with painted Christmas trees and colored lights that prevent me from seeing inside. Pulling on the handle, I open the door just in time to see Grace's fist land squarely on Greg's pretentious jaw.

Atta girl.

I can't hide the smile that forms on my face, and I take a moment to pause and enjoy the look of satisfaction that spreads across her face as he drops to the floor with a yelp. Her small giggle as she shakes out her hand is the most beautiful sound in the world, and I can't help but feel proud of how far she has come from the quiet country girl with a sweet southern drawl.

As if she can feel me standing there, her eyes flash up to mine, a Cheshire smile forming before she rushes to me, jumping into my arms and wrapping her legs around my waist, kissing me quickly.

"I'm going to get fired," she whispers as she pulls back from my lips. Concern is evident in her tone, but the sparkle in her eyes doesn't diminish.

A groan reaches my ears and reminds me we aren't alone. I turn my gaze toward Greg. His face is flushed as he pushes off the floor, eyes wild, blood dripping from inside his mouth where I assume a tooth has come loose.

"You BITCH!" he shouts, not even looking at me. "You're going to regret that you fuckin…" Before he can finish that statement, my fist connects with his right cheek, bone crunching with its impact.

A chuckle from the corner of the room pulls my attention, and I see Pete leaning in the doorway, arms crossed in front of his barrel chest.

"Shift's over, Red. I'll take out the trash," he says, nodding to the human lump on the floor.

"Thanks, Petey!" Grace says brightly before pulling off her apron and walking behind the counter to grab her stuff. I nod my thanks in Pete's direction and head back into the lot to wait for Grace.

The chill in the air feels comforting as I take in the quiet street. Grace doesn't drive. Her dad has never allowed her to learn. When she turned sixteen, three months after I did, I offered to teach her, but she was always afraid he would find out. We avoided anything that made him angry for fear of what he might do. He once threatened to leave the pack just so she couldn't spend time with me. Jimmy Davidson is a mean drunk. She told me once that he wasn't always like that, but losing his position in his pack changed him.

That's something I could never understand.

Fuck pack hierarchies. That shit's pointless.

I've never understood why someone would want to pledge loyalty to a group of people who would turn on you if the power dynamic changes. The only loyalty I needed was Grace's.

Grace knew me. She understood all of the little idiosyncrasies that made me tick, and she could predict my responses with eerie accuracy. It's because of this connection we have that I believe she will end up as my Mate. There is no one better suited for me. While my eighteenth birthday is just six weeks away, Grace won't turn eighteen until late April, so we won't know until I return from my internship in June.

Time could not pass fast enough.

The one constant in every pack is the belief that The Fates set our destiny. First, they assign our wolves when we're Awakened, usually around ten years old. They provide power levels that determine the strength and command capabilities, which give status and rank in the pack structure. Wolves born from two Alphas are almost always Alphas. Wolves born from one Alpha can go either way. Wolves born from strictly Beta wolves are usually Beta wolves, though occasionally there is an anomaly, and an Alpha is born from lower-ranking wolves. Wolves born from mixed matings, humans with shifters, are always shifters, but their rankings are all over the place.

Once we're ranked, The Fates decide our Mates. No one knows how that matching works, but only about one in every ten wolves ever finds their Mate. They could be from their pack, a neighboring pack, or the other side of the world, and you won't know until you scent them.

Sounds like bullshit to me.

I know who I'm supposed to be with. I know who I'm destined to spend my future with, and The Fates, they can get on board or fuck off.

Arms slide around my waist, hugging me from behind, and I hear Grace"s audible intake of breath as she takes my scent in.

"Wanna go for a run before we head over?" she asks, her voice vibrating against my back.

"When have I ever said no to chasing you, Tails?" I reply, light humor in my tone. I reach over, grab the helmet sitting on the back, and pull it down over her pigtails, using the motion to bring her lips to mine as I buckle it under her chin before continuing. "But when I catch you, I'm not letting you go."

"Promises. Promises," she responds with a giggle, pushing away from my chest and allowing me to swing my leg over the seat before she mounts behind me and wraps her arms around my waist.

"Hold on tight. It's going to be a rough ride," I say over my shoulder, thinking about the way I'm going to make her beg and scream my name.

"Just the way I like it," she responds as I rev the engine and pull out of the lot.