Lola (Completed)

34 Territorial

Lola

Cold washes over me. Cassie was involved with Alpha Roland?

As soon as the thought occurs to me, I dismiss it. Not because I think it's impossible, but because Bastian has moved to stand next to me and I see it in his eyes. I see the truth in the tiny smirk playing around his mouth.

A hand sneaks into mine, curling around my fingers, while I choke on air, desperate to feed my lungs. Mackenzie squeezes comfortingly. It helps and I can take in a deep breath. At least I'm not the only female upset at the realization that our mates are cold-blooded killers.

My wolf huffs. She's fine with Cassie's death. That bitch tried to take her male from her. We're better off with that mate-stealer dead.

I push her violence away. No time for that. All of those eyes that bowed to their alpha are right back on the trainwreck that is a hysterical Marley being comforted by a very un-comfortable-looking big brother.

"It's OK, Mare," Brett shushes her gently. "Let's get you inside the apartment, OK?"

My attention swings from Marley and Brett to the large, enforcer wolf coming toward us at a fast clip.

"Alpha, DarkFur problems," he grunts out, hazel eyes narrowed. I'm a little surprised when he gives me a slight nod of respect before greeting Bastian, "First."

"Nate," Bastian returns the greeting. "Need me to take this?" he asks Alpha Ryker grimly.

Alpha Ryker glances down at Mac, who moves to me. "I'll take Lola to our house, Ry. You and Bastian go do what you need to do."

I only get one more glimpse at the open doors of my new home before Mac and I are walking past the "packhouse" at a fast clip. It looks solid white on the interior, a blank canvas. Part of me expected maroon and orange stripes, honestly. Maybe this won't be too bad.

That's the end of my curiosity. I'm more than happy to let Mac pull me into her little house and away from prying eyes.

"This is it," Mac says as she tugs me over the threshold. I was right, the little blue house must have once been the motel owner's once upon a time. The front desk area still exists, complete with old particle-board built-in furniture that just screams 1972.

"It's um..." I say, letting my voice drift off when I catch sight of a neon sign of a nude female in profile. It's the sort of sign you would see in a strip club. Thankfully, the lights are off.

"The guys think it's hilarious." Mac sees what I am staring at and rolls her eyes. "Apparently, there used to be a strip club next door that Ryker had them tear down, but they 'rescued' the sign."

I follow her into the living room. In the corner sits a leg lamp. Like, the Christmas Story leg lamp of a hooker's garter-clad leg, also from the 1970s. "Another joke," Mac says.

"Oh," I reply lamely.

A faint frown dances on her face. "I haven't really had the chance to decorate anything," she muses softly.

I see the flash of sorrow and feel my own resolve snap into place. I may be totally unsure about my place here in the RueHarbor and I definitely am not enthusiastic about the motel/packhouse, but this is Mac's home. She's the Luna, my Luna, and she's already been here for two weeks.

"Let's decorate, then, Mac," I say firmly.

Her face brightens. "You think?"

"Yes, this is your home. And the first to go is this," I unplug the leg lamp and pick it up and give it the look of disgust it deserves.