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“To our species,” she said, her tone gentler. But I didn’t trust it now.
“I don’t want to offend you, Margarette, and if you rescind the pack adoption, or whatever, that’s fine.” It is not fine, my inner voice chanted, but I wasn’t escaping one cage for another. “I’m not interested in a mate, now or ever. And I sure as hell won’t bring children into a world where they could end up property of an Alpha like Callaway. Or in a pack like Southern.”
She tilted her head, an odd gleam in her eye. “No, never here. And if you don’t feel the pull… maybe your true mate isn’t Luke.” I wasn’t sure I liked the direction of her thoughts. “You will eventually choose a mate, though. What about my son Glen?—”
“No!” Fuck that. I knew what came next. Being tied to a future Alpha, who would treat me like a doll or try to kill me, depending on his mood. I would be powerless again. Owned. “Let me go.” I stood, shaking her hand away.
She stood, too. “You need to calm down, Flor,” she said, giving me that Enforcer stare, like that would make me listen. Make me stay. Her voice was filled with command as she said, “Sit down.”
I scoffed, ignoring her shock as the command rolled off my back. I should have guessed she would try that shit. Her son was the guy who hadn’t respected my right to privacy.
“I ain’t going to Northern with you, or anywhere with any asshole who thinks I’m gonna belong to them. I’ve been in a prison for my whole life, and I ain’t leaving this one just to go to yours.”
If she’d had pearls on, I knew she would have clutched them. “My pack is not a prison. We’re not criminals like the shifters here at Southern.”
“Your son isn’t all that different. Except when he pulled his shit, he took responsibility. He didn’t try to roll me with his dominance.” I sneered. “Maybe it takes a few more years for the integrity to fully wear off at Northern.”
She gasped, and her eyes glowed again. I shifted my stance, taking in the things I could use in the room as a weapon. My shiv was back in the mattress where I’d put it. I could use the wooden shards of the hairbrush, maybe the metal trash can. I was ready to fight, ready to kick my way out of the window if I had to, to run. Even though I knew I wasn’t strong enough.
But then, just when I thought she would attack, Margarette dropped to one knee, her eyes on the ground. “You will not die, sweet child. You have nothing to fear from me. Flor, you have my deepest apologies,” she went on, still not looking up. “My son dishonored our pack, and now I almost did the same. We owe you a debt, and you owe us nothing. You are welcome at Northern. More than welcome—wanted. Your presence would be a gift.”
I didn’t change my stance, still wary. “I won’t have to mate some guy? Start shooting out pups?”
“You misunderstood. You will not be forced to mate anyone; no one would have done that. I swear it on the moon, and on my honor.”
I didn’t think I had misunderstood one fucking bit, but I let it go. I had to; I was about to fall on my ass with exhaustion. “I accept your offer to stay at Northern. As a visitor. For now.”
Her lips curved upward. “You honor us, Flor.”
I hated to tell her, but I was no prize. She’d learn.
In the meantime, I would get the hell out of here. “Know what? There is one thing I want to pack. My mop handle.”
She wrinkled her nose and rose. “The one you fought Trevor Blackside with?”
I grinned and limped toward the door, keeping my side turned to her, just in case. “It’s the only weapon I was allowed.”
“We’ll get you real weapons at Northern,” she promised. “And real clothes.” She tugged on a lock of my butchered hair as she strode past. “And a real haircut. I hate to say it, but yours is awful.”
“It wasn’t by choice.”
Her eyes narrowed as she stared down at me, and it felt like she was seeing straight into me. “Darling girl, I don’t think much in your life has been by choice, has it?” Her voice thrummed with sympathy. It sounded genuine.
I didn’t know how to take her words. Had she forgotten that only moments before, she’d basically been threatening to take away my choices herself? I tightened my lips so I wouldn’t start crying—or worse, point out her hypocrisy.
“Well, from now on, all the choices are yours.” She rubbed her hands together as we strode down the hallway, the shouts of the other residents following us. “Starting with dinner. Steak or chicken?”
“Do I have to choose?”
“Of course not.” Her smile was almost too wide. “Not tonight, anyway.”
28
Dinner with the Council
FLOR
Less than a day after I’d thought I would die, I stared at my reflection, wondering who the girl in the mirror was.
