The Hunter's Alpha

29 Tense

Amber

Riding alone with Devon was nice, although I could practically feel him weighing each word, trying to avoid pitfalls or uncomfortable topics. It made me feel guilty when I remembered my part in leaving him and what I had returned to and my stomach was sick with regret. It would help if he weren't so clearly constantly thinking about the mess between us.

"We're supposed to be moving past everything," I reminded him, keeping my voice meek. "Can't do that if you keep thinking about it."

"You're right," he agreed.

I cast around for something—anything—to talk about. "So, I don't actually know that much about you." Again, that was at least half my fault. I'd told him I would give him a chance, but then all I did was push him away. Why had I done that? It seemed ridiculous in retrospect.

"What do you want to know?"

"I don't know, anything, really?" Why was small talk the hardest talk? It would be easier if I could just sit and gawk at him. He really was a nice sight, even though the signs of the stress from our separation were still in the lines on his face and the weight he had lost. More guilt surged inside me.

"Well, I'm twenty-seven—I don't know if I ever told you that—and I've been running Marrowcliff since I was twenty-one."

"What happened to your parents?" I asked him. I hadn't met them, but he had indirectly brought them up, so asking was likely okay.

"My mother died from cancer five years ago. I took over the pack shortly after she was diagnosed since my father didn't take the news well. He only lasted a year after she passed away. He began taking bigger risks, and eventually took one too big so rogues got him."

"I'm sorry for asking," I said. There was pain in his voice and I only wanted to soothe it. I put my hand on his arm.

"It's no secret, and you can ask me anything."

"Then...I thought wolves didn't get diseases."

"If only. Cancer is rare, but when it hits, it hits hard. We're not immortal, just hardier than you humans, at least from what I've heard. I haven't had tons of contact with humans before you."

"No? Well, I hadn't even seen an actual werewolf before you capture-saved me. They didn't exactly bring them to the hunter's residential areas."

He looked pained again. "I regret the way I treated you when I first found you."

I shrugged. "You couldn't have known I wasn't an enemy."

"You didn't act like one. You acted like a frightened prisoner. Exactly what you were."

"Well, I was afraid. You're pretty intimidating, you know."

"You know I'd never hurt you willingly, right?"

In my head I could understand that, but my experiences had made it difficult to accept. "I know you wouldn't."

That tinge of uncertainty apparently came through, because he looked defeated. I wonder if he too was remembering how his wolf had tried to force his mark on me when I had first suggested leaving him.

It seemed no matter what we did, we always wound back to feeling sad and uncomfortable.

"Would it help if I let you mark me?" I asked him.

The car lurched for a second before he righted it, and I grabbed onto the edge of the seat to steady myself, instantly regretting my words. I hadn't been thinking about how he would react. "I'm sorry," I said, feeling like a fool and wanting to avoid any possible anger.