The Alpha's Cursed Mate

Chapter 11

I'm on the verge of sleep, I slip under, I startle awake, and the process repeats. Sleeping while riding on someone's back is a skill, and the only person I've seen do it is Tabitha, and she does it masterfully. I wonder if all those months of sleeping in my bed trained her body to rest through bumps and drops and other uncertainties. I would roll and hit and push, and one too many times she would wake on the floor.

My arms lay on either side of his neck — my right ear listening to the blood that rushes to his head. The temperature continues to drop, but the cloaks shield the wind and his fur feels as though he's been lounging by after-battle bonfires. We're moving quickly, but his maneuvering is graceful, and I hardly feel the impact of his launching steps. I stroke his neck with an open hand. Whether or not he notices is a mystery.

I press my cheek into his coat, indulging in this moment because it may never happen again.

My chest pangs, and the disappointment ripples. I cannot tell myself such things, not with this bond knotted around my heart and reacting so desperately. I pet my mate again to calm it. His head turns slightly, so I pretend to be asleep.

His scent encourages my peace of mind.

I resume — on the verge of sleep, and I let myself slip under.

When I startle awake, I'm home. I push up and watch as our group approaches my walls. The gates draw open as I rub my fridged face and the bit of drool at the corner of my mouth. Tabitha is sitting upright as well, and she peers back at me. I raise a hand to signal that I am doing alright.

I slide off his wolf's back once we are in the courtyard. My keep is half as busy as his and houses only those I trust; there are men to do the daily labor, and guards to maintain the fortress's security. There are servants and cooks to run the homestead, and places for my selected few to perform their high-standing duties such as my general Byron. There is no space for traitors or the self-motivated. My people work for their Alpha and their pack, that is all.

I shed my excess of cloaks until one remains. The wolves collect and shift and dress, so as I wait, I see my trader who is paging through new parchments that list the received goods. "The trade in the west," I ask, "how have we done?"

"Considerably well," he informs.

"The stones never lie."

I turn and heed Tabitha as she drifts. "It's about time that we heard. I suppose this calls for another reading now that the lastest tellings have materialized," she adds.

"We'll have to be discreet with our practices until our guests return home."

"Well, it will be a long while until Tophet is out of our hair."

My eyes narrow. "He's here until our merger is finalized. I doubt it will take long at all; he's quite eager about it, as you know."

Her head tilts as she watches his men. "Do you think they all hate witches as much as Tophet, or can I convince them to welcome me?"

"Which one do you want?"

"The dark-skinned one who appears to have a stick up his ass."

"Not going for easy prey, I see. You know that is the Goddess's symbol around his neck."

She shrugs. "It'll be my legs soon enough."

I press my lips together and wander toward our guests. Tabitha stays at my side and asks, "How are you feeling? You look more lively compared to this morning."

"I should be in bed early tonight, but I'm better. I suppose I simply needed enough time to... replenish."

"Now that I have all my resources, I can meddle around and see what I find on the bleeding issue. It might take longer than you hope, however. These answers don't tend to be written down."