Chapter - Lola

We eat quickly since Richard wants to take breakfast to Leighton's family soon. I help pack and cover it, and then we grab my clothes and leave. It's hard to resist the urge to glance into the alley between Bad Axe and the next building over to see if anyone notices me slipping out of Richard's place. Not that word of what happens here would necessarily get back to my father, but it's always possible.

Richard strides confidently into the alley, the tray of tamales balanced easily in one palm. When we reach the street and emerge onto the main drag, it's already full of shifters and centaurs going about their daily business. Pegasi fly in smooth lives above the main street. But apprehension fills me. Is it obvious to everyone here that he and I are connected?

His big body moves into my visual space, one finger coming underneath my chin to guide my focus to him. "This whole ‘take it slow' thing is for the fucking birds, but I sense your nerves, omega. Remember, I want to be holding your hand and showing you off to every single monster you see. The only reason I'm not doing it is so we can come up with a plan for telling your father about us. But, in the meantime, I will protect our need for secrecy, alright?"

I nod, relief flooding me. He holds my gaze for a moment before moving his finger from beneath my chin. I don't want to hide him either, but it feels wrong showing the pack what's going on without having a conversation with my papá.

Slipping my hands into my back pockets to avoid touching Richard, I follow him across the street and to the left. We pass five or six curved side streets before he hooks a right. Following the street's slow spiral, we walk quietly until we reach a beautiful three-story treehouse halfway down the row.

A giant tree's roots are visible around the first floor, which boasts a door big and wide enough for a pegasus with their wings extended. Richard strides to the door and knocks loudly.

Heat rolls through me, and I wipe at a few beads of sweat as they appear on my brow. Just then, the treehouse doors split and swing inward to allow us entry.

Richard holds one open for me. As I pass him, he leans down and brings his mouth to my ear. "You smell fucking delicious, omega. What are you doing after breakfast?"

What am I doing after this? "Getting into clean clothes," I whisper back, poking his hard stomach playfully. "Because these have been on multiple floors in the last twelve hours, and my hair is still a wreck."

Richard grins wickedly, gesturing for me to continue into the treehouse. Unlike mine, this one has a giant circular ramp leading up to the first and second floors. A huge entryway to the right leads into an open space much like the other treehouses.

An older female wolf comes forward, hands clasped together as she smiles at Richard and me. "Alpha, it's totally unnecessary to keep feeding us."

A male I assume must be Leighton's father joins us from a back room, walking elegantly past a rustic wood bar. He stops by the female and wraps an arm around her waist, squeezing her to his side. Ocean-blue eyes move between us, then he winks at me. "I see Richard's dragging you into the tamales parade?"

I laugh and cover my mouth with one hand, my usual calm failing me. "The tamales parade?" I glance up at Richard. "I knew it. Tamales are the only thing you know how to cook, aren't they?"

We all laugh as Richard shrugs, passing the laden tray to the male.

The female smiles at me, dipping her head respectfully. "Princess, we're goddess-blessed to have you in our home."

"Please"—I take her weathered hand in mine—"it's just Lola."

"Lola," she repeats with a soft smile.

"Maren, how are you today?" Richard's question is met with a thoughtful half smile.

"We're…okay today, Alpha."

When he opens his big arms, she sinks into them and wraps hers around him, closing her eyes and leaning into the hug. His soft purr rumbles in the quiet space of their home as the male rejoins us. He stands next to me as his alpha purrs for his mate, his expression pained.

We're quiet for a minute as Maren wipes a stray tear from her cheek. I'm not unfamiliar with grief. Even at the highest levels in shifter politics, I've seen my papá comfort packmates in this exact same way.

Another few moments pass before Maren pulls out of Richard's embrace. Then her mate is by her side, pulling her back to his front as he rests his chin on top of her head.

Their love is so obvious, so real, it steals my breath. I want that. I have that. And I have to hide it.

Maren smiles at me, waving a finger between Richard and me. "You two are cute together. It's lovely to see since Richard has been a bachelor for so damn long."

Richard startles as my eyes spring wide. I'm too shocked at what she said to summon a response, but when Richard says nothing, I shake my head vehemently.

"Oh, oh, no, we're not… I've known Richard my whole life."

Maren's smile spreads wider. "Dad's-best-friend-to-lovers is a trope in human romance novels for a reason, you know."

I've never read a romance novel. Sounds fun, though.

I can't think of a response, but I pray Richard does. Thankfully, he comes to my rescue.

"Thank you, Maren. We won't keep you, but can I do anything for either of you? Grocery run? Ice cream from Scoops or candy from Miriam's? I'll drive you up to the community garden if you'd like to visit with the pixies."

Maren shakes her head, placing a hand over her mate's. "We're going to stick close to home today, Alpha, but thank you." She smiles at us again. "I can see that, for some reason, you're hiding an obvious connection. But we of all people know how quickly life can be ripped from you." Her expression becomes intense and serious. "Don't let anyone steal a single moment of a single day from you. Take every one for yourself. Live every single one to the very fullest."

Tears fill my eyes as her message sinks in. She's right, of course. Politics and my father be damned. He's going to lose his mind about Richard and me, but should that stop us from pursuing a bond so deep and revered that our people speak about it in hushed, awed tones?

I wipe another bead of sweat from my brow as Richard places a hand on the middle of my back, rubbing a soft circle.

He manages to extricate us from the conversation as I muddle my way through a farewell that probably makes no sense. By the time we get to the street, Richard's hand has slid to the back of my jeans, where he hangs on to one loop.

When Leighton's parents' treehouse closes the door behind us, he presses me to it, his hand sliding around my front and up my shirt to rest flat on my belly.

"They're right, you know," he murmurs.

I glance up and down the street, but it's quiet. There's nobody around. Still, nervous tension has me amped and sweaty, my muscles trembling slightly. I feel…off-kilter. Like things are happening so fast. Finding my mate so early in life should be a joyous event, but we're hiding behind politics, and I hate that. Mostly, I dread letting the cat out of the bag with Papá. It's not going to go well; that's one thing I can count on.

The need to shout to the world about Richard and me is strong and I can't.

"Let's get you home," he whispers in my ear. "Just because they can tell doesn't mean everybody can tell."

"That's not it," I whine quietly. "I want to tell everyone, and I hate that we can't, even if I think we were right to decide that. I want to be free," I admit. "I want to make choices about my life that don't take shifter politics into account at all."

Richard grits his jaw and strokes my curls away from my face. "I will fight every second of every day for you to have that, sweetheart. Every second, do you hear me?"

I press into him, dropping my forehead to his chest where I bury my nose in hard muscle and soft hair. Moons, he smells so intensely delicious. Slick wets my thighs as his scent fills my senses.

"Lola," he huffs.

"I know," I whine.

"C'mon," he says again, pulling away from me.

My wolf lets out a pitiful groan in my mind, which pulls Big Daddy's green to the front of Richard's eyes.

He huffs. "Swear to the goddess, once the three of you can talk together, this is gonna get wild."

I stare deep into that luminescent green, willing Big Daddy to hear me, and since I know he can, I speak to him directly. "I can't wait to hear you. I don't think I've ever been so excited for anything in my life. And I don't know what the Luna bond means, precisely, but I'm excited to figure it out together."

Richard lets out a soft growl, stepping closer again. Voices drift toward us from up the street. We move away from one another and head back toward my place. I'm probably making it more obvious that I want to touch him with the way I fold my arms around my body, keeping my hands close to me so I don't reach over.

It was easier in the very beginning when he touched me the same way he touched everyone. But now that touch means something more.

We round the last bend toward the main drag, and Connall's standing there with the elemental sylph, Dirk. Connall's stance is wide, fists balled as he glares at the slightly shorter male.

"What's going on here?" Richard's alpha tone hits Connall and me the exact same way.

Dirk, on the other hand, looks up with a bored expression. "Hello there, yer mightiness. I was jest tellin' Connall he ought to offer his services to Louanna, on account of him being classically trained as a therapist and all." His expression goes tight. "She needs help, Richard. She can't deal with her part in Leighton's death without assistance, and I think Connall's the best one to help her."

My heart clenches thinking about Lou, my new friend. She hasn't talked much about what happened with the warlock Wesley. I only know because of Connall and Richard in the first place.

Connall turns to Richard and crosses his arms. "Please inform Dirk that I'm certified as a counselor for shifters and equinoids, not humans."

"Doesn't matter," Dirk states, matching his stance to Connall's. "It's gotta be yeh."

It's easy to see that Connall doesn't want to do this, for whatever reason. If Lou needs help, and it sounds like she does, her therapist should be someone ready and willing to help her. I give Dirk what I hope is an understanding look. "I can recommend several wonderful counselors at home in Santa Alaya, if you think Lou would be willing to travel. But Connall would know best if he's equipped to help her."

Connall gives Dirk the old "told ya so" look, but Dirk shrugs and addresses Connall directly, "Yeh're gonna help her, whether it's today or tomorrow or the day after that. I promise yeh that, alpha. Because now I've put that thought in yer pretty head, it'll consume yeh. And every time yeh see her, knowing what's going on in her mind, you'll remember that yeh have the power and ability to help her fix this."

For a long, tense moment, the two males stare at each other—Connall fierce and Dirk resolute. I wipe sweat off my brow as I observe their standoff, Richard doing the same thing I am.

Still not touching.

Goddess, it's so wrong.

Moisture breaks out on my upper lip, my muscles trembling. All the stress must finally be getting to me. On top of which, I've had enough tension for the day. I'm desperate for my guitar and some alone time to play.

I glance up at Richard. "I'm gonna head home for a while. Catch you later?"

He gives me a knowing half smile, and there are secrets in that smile. The secret of what we are to each other, of what we've done, of what we will do. Secrets that'll rip things apart and build something new.

"I've got meetings downtown for most of the day, but I'll be back around dinnertime if you want to come to the bar."

"It's a date," I say without thinking.

Connall and Dirk glance over, their standoff seemingly resolved. Or unresolved, but done.

I lift both hands like I've been caught dead to rights. "I mean, not a date date. You know what I mean."

Richard snorts. "They know what you mean, Princesa."

Formal title. Phew, good job, Alpha. I make a mock salute with one hand, dipping my head toward the other two. Connall's eyes narrow, but Dirk turns and stares at him again, like he's trying to sort something out.

Zipping my lips, I spin on my heel and head up the main street.

I am in desperate, desperate need of a shower.

Hours later, my curls are freshly washed and detangled, and I've got a hellsuva leave-in conditioner in, praying it can repair the damage from a night of zero curl care. Guitar at my back, I leave my treehouse with the box of photos Richard gave me tucked under one arm. Sweat drips in rivulets down my spine despite the lovely temperature.

I don't know if I'm just missing Santa Alaya, or Papá, or Leo, or all of it rolled together. But my mind feels tender and ragged, like I drank one too many tequilas at the bar or completely forgot to sleep.

I took a peek at the Ever Welcome Packet and found a map that indicates where Shifter Hollow's church is. Now, more than ever, I feel the need to seek out my goddess and ask her advice.

After twenty minutes of trekking on a small trail through the forest, I come to a ring of trees soaring tall. They've been trimmed so no branches hang over the circle, giving me a clear view of the sky. Sawed off tree stumps are placed in circular waves around a stone altar in the center. Black smudges cover the top of the stone.

They lost a packmate recently, Leighton, Maren's son. This would be the pyre they would have burned him on, praying for his soul to run with Alaya.

A chill joins the heat skating down my spine as I walk around the church. Many havens have formal church buildings like we do back home. Just as many prefer to commune with Alaya in a more natural setting.

It's quiet here, not even a cricket chirping as I close my eyes and breathe in. Pine. Redwood. Moss. Dirt. The barest hint of a recent rain.

Smiling at the peace those scents bring me, I open my eyes and seat myself on one of the giant stumps. I fold my legs underneath me and take my guitar off, laying it carefully by my side. The box of photographs rests on my thighs. Removing the top, I admire the picture from before, the one of Richard and Mamá and Papá. I'm shocked anew at how carefree and youthful my papá looks.

Setting that photo next to me on the stump, I pick up the next one. A gasp leaves me at seeing my mamá holding me. I'm chubby as hells, all black curls and round cheeks. My arms are so fat, it's hard to imagine my mother ever dressing me in anything but tank tops. But we're both beaming at whoever took the picture.

Tears fill my eyes as I look through the stack. Picture after picture after picture is filled with joy and love and happiness. By the time I'm nearing the bottom of the box, I wonder if Papá realizes that he lost all of this somewhere along the way in his quest to be king. But this? The love in these photographs? It's worth everything and it's just within my reach.

Wind rustles through the trees around me, brushing lightly across my skin as I close my eyes. My goddess is near.

Please, Alaya,I pray, let this work out.

I don't usually ask for anything for myself, but to deal with Papá I'll need her by my side.