Alpha’s Strength(24)

For his part, Cyrus raised an eyebrow. “You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.”

Alexei nodded and stalked from the room. A few seconds later, the elevator dinged. She sniffed the air to see if she could confirm his departure, but his scent remained too prevalent in the room to determine if Alexei was there or not. Maybe others could tell, but her skills weren’t there yet. Processing what had happened would have to wait—she needed to survive all these changes and freak out about them later.

“Cyrus.” She needed to say something about how he had kept her parents’ illegal activities to himself. His protection of her family deserved recognition.

“Not yet, princess.” Cyrus cut her off.

Lake looked left and right. “What is going on? Is someone going to fill me in? I only know the smallest amount.”

“Not yet to you too, sister.” Cyrus walked to his desk. His face gave her no indication of his mood; neither did his scent. The man who’d consumed her thoughts since they’d met retreated behind an unreadable mask.

She didn’t like the feeling. It made her want to claw at something—to howl. Instead, she cleared her throat. “When can we talk about it?”

“Later.” He didn’t look up when he addressed her, and the sound of the elevator dinging again caught her attention. She didn’t like Cyrus ignoring her—how he avoided her as though she wasn’t in the room. Whoever was getting off that elevator—Travis, he’d called him—had thrown him.

She sniffed the air. He was regrouping. How did she know that so clearly?

Because he was just…perfection to her. She bit her lip. How was she going to survive if they ever slept together? Hell, if he affected her this way and she’d never seen him naked… She swallowed hard. What would happen when she did? And why was she thinking when—shouldn’t it be if?

A couple entered the room and Betsy transferred her attention to them. The man was tall with brown hair and dark eyes. His arms, where they were visible, showed ink. He had a stern visage, his eyebrows furrowed and his jaw line hard. His smell spoke of Alpha, the same way Cyrus’s and Alexei’s did. Power tasted like fire in her mouth. It demanded attention.

She shifted her gaze to his companion and sucked in her breath. The woman she regarded must have noticed her at the same time because she had a similar reaction, covering her mouth with her hand. They stared silently for a moment. Or maybe it was longer than that. Time ceased to have any particular meaning when she gazed at the impossible—her mirror image in living, breathing, and smelling-of-wolf form.

Tears pooled and then fell from her eyes. Betsy had known this person before, had dreamed about her, asked after her, and mourned her when her parents had told her, eventually, that her twin sister had passed from the earth. It had seemed excessive to weep as she had, considering she’d never really known her sister. Yet, she had. They’d shared a womb, and Betsy had felt her absence like a wound that festered and wouldn’t heal no matter how many salves she put on it.

Her twin pointed at her. “I knew you were somewhere…” The other woman’s voice hitched. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Tears slid from Betsy’s eyes. “Me too.” Her voice sounded hoarse.

The other woman walked toward her slowly. “How did this happen? How did Cyrus find you?”

The other male in the room growled. “Cyrus, I think you’d better explain yourself.”

“Gladly. But later. Why don’t we let our mates catch up?”

“Mates? As in you have one too?”

Betsy tuned out the rest of what they said. They could growl, hiss, or pee on each other for all she cared at that moment. Her world had become solely focused on the woman who shared her face. Well, almost shared it. On closer inspection, it appeared as though her twin sister had not been cursed with the abundance of freckles across her nose that Betsy had to live with. She hated the way they appeared. Yes, it was settled; her sister was gorgeous. Much prettier than Betsy, and it didn’t bother her. She was so darn glad to see her.

Cyrus had promised he’d bring her twin to her. And he’d delivered.

“Well.” The woman laughed, taking her hand. “Are you going to tell me? How did he find you?”

Betsy laughed. “In a coffee shop.”

“Really?” The woman she’d been waiting to find raised a blonde eyebrow. “I need to hear this story. I’m Lilliana, by the way.”

She knew the name. Cyrus had said it several times, particularly in the first few minutes when he’d thought that was who she was. “I’m Betsy.” She smiled. “It’s so lovely to finally find you.”