Dead Heat (Alpha and Omega) - Patricia Briggs Page 0,52

to reach for it.

She hid that monster from everyone because it would hurt Charles if he knew that she carried those scars still. But since she was admitting her weaknesses here, if only to herself, she also worried that it would interfere with his image of the person he thought she was. He thought she was brave and true and good, and she wasn’t. Inside, she was dark and ferocious. If he truly understood that she had this twisted and broken part, maybe he could not love her.

But this wasn’t about her. Hosteen needed to see what she carried, so he’d understand he was not alone. And so he would not remember this conversation and feel humiliated because he’d told her so many things and she had not left herself as vulnerable to him. So she let that darkness fill her and looked him in the eye.

He stepped back, involuntarily.

She stopped it, swallowing her broken pieces until she had them tucked out of sight, where she kept them unless she needed to draw on that rage and viciousness.

“We all fight to be better than our base instincts, Hosteen,” she told him, her voice a little rough.

“What happened?” he asked. She saw the protective instinct that made his Alpha kick in: it wasn’t the response she’d expected.

“Do you think that Charles would not have taken care of any problems I might have faced?” she asked.

He nodded solemnly. “Chicago. I heard that Charles killed Leo over his treatment of a newly Changed wolf.” He paused. “That’s what he was talking about over dinner.”

She was losing control of the conversation; time to put it back where it belonged. “Leo didn’t fight his monster. It is not only witches who are tempted by darkness. When we werewolves fail to contain that monster, then it is up to our pack to make sure we don’t hurt anyone. Up to our Alpha, really. For Chelsea, that will be you.”

He nodded. His responsibility. Alphas, she had noticed, were very responsible people. That was it, that was the key. The reason he felt he had to take care of Chelsea, in the hit-man sense of the phrase.

“But we don’t all fail, do we?” Anna said softly. “Too many of us, yes, but not all.” She looked at the unconscious woman. “Brother Wolf doesn’t think that she will fail. That’s why Charles Changed her. It was not impulse, it was inspiration that drove him. His inspiration is more accurate than most people’s.”

Hosteen rose to his feet and looked down upon his daughter-in-law. “She is strong-minded,” he said, then smiled a little. “I’ve never had anyone argue with me by listening before. You must drive Bran wild. You listen and tug a little, and listen and push a little, and in the end you persuade me not to do—”

“—something you never wanted to do.” Anna finished winding her yarn and began knitting again, paying special attention to which side of her knitting the yarn fell on. “My dad always says it’s easier to convince someone of something they already want to believe.”

“She saved Kage’s children.” He reached out and touched Chelsea’s cheek. She stirred under his touch and then quieted. He left his hand there.

Anna tensed. She was too far away to stop him, assuming she could stop him. But she didn’t think she’d have to.

He bowed his head and then looked over his shoulder at Anna. “You—” His voice broke. Probably because the Marrok was talking to him, too.

Anna, get out of there. The witchborn don’t always make the transition from witch to wolf easily. If she was strong enough to hide herself from Charles’s wolf, then she’s strong enough to be dangerous. Strong enough to hide if she is a dark witch. Charles is coming, but you and Hosteen get out of there right now.

She couldn’t respond to him. The Marrok couldn’t hear her if she talked back to him.

Hosteen looked at her. “A fructibus eorum cognoscetis eos,” he quoted back at her softly. “How strongly do you believe that, now? What do you think the Marrok told Charles to do to her? What can he do that you and I could not?”

Anna put her knitting down and walked over to the bed. Chelsea had been restless for the past half hour or so. Bran’s message had spiked the adrenaline in both Anna and Hosteen, and that was enough. Chelsea’s heartbeat was picking up; Anna could smell fear and helpless frustration in a growing wave. That first deep