Alpha’s Strength(59)

“Can everybody hear me?” Cyrus raised his voice, and the whispering hushed. His eyes met hers, and she nearly jolted off the seat. Her mate was in pain, and it dug into her soul. This went beyond the sadness of the rest of the group.

“Good.” He stared out the group, and after a moment, the pain she’d glimpsed vanished as if it had never been there. Her love was certainly proficient at hiding his feelings. “If, at any point, you can’t hear me, please raise your hand.”

He took a beat before he spoke again, and she wondered if he considered his words. This couldn’t be standard to the ceremony, which, up until this point, had felt pretty rote.

“I realize it isn’t traditional to do this during a moon ceremony. Please know it is only out of respect for Kyra that I speak this way. She was not only an amazing pack member, mate, and mother, but I have recently learned that she gave her life to save my mate.”

Betsy stared down at the ground. That was right. Kyra would never draw breath again because she had saved Betsy. How was she going to live with this for the rest of her days? Was there even a way to make it right?

“I can’t seem to stop my eyes from going to Jensen and his children.” Kyra and Jensen had two children, both girls with their mother’s light brown hair. They sat on either side of their father, the older one looking stoic and the younger periodically breaking down into tears. “And I remember when Lake and I were children and how we sat through a ceremony like this one for our parents.”

Lake was missing. It hadn’t dawned on her that the Healer wasn’t there, but now that she looked, it was very clear the other woman wasn’t present. Betsy leaned back in her seat. Something was going to have to be done about that girl. If only she knew her better.

“I remember watching the Alpha, Shepherd, talk about my parents and feeling like didn’t really know them. No one could have understood them like we did, and even now I’m not sure I really did grasp who they were. I was a child or, rather, a teenager, which may have been worse, and there is a certain kind of blindness in that.”

Some murmurs of agreement crossed the pack. Betsy still wasn’t sure what Cyrus was doing. She concentrated on trying to keep a calm look on her face. Everyone would be able to smell her nerves, but maybe she’d get credit for trying.

“Anyway, what I wanted from Shepherd was something he never delivered. Something I’m going to make sure your children get, Jensen.” Cyrus nodded, and she wondered if he was there in the moment with them or if he’d travelled with his memory back to the time he’d sat at his own parents’ moon ceremony. “I’m going to get you retribution. It won’t bring back Kyra. But I can promise you that we will taste their blood. They will know pain.”

A roar sounded, and she turned around to look at who had made the noise. Was this standard for a funeral? Shouldn’t they all be crying and patting each other on the back? Why was everyone applauding? Her mouth watered at his words. She’d like to see retribution, and Cyrus’ words filled her with a warmth that had been missing for most the day.

“I can promise you their deaths. Or the end of my life trying.”

Her heart may have stopped beating for a second before it picked up in a rapid one-two punch that left her feeling as though he’d taken his foot and kicked her hard. His own life. Cyrus seemed so casual with his disregard for his own existence. She squirmed in her seat, wishing to be anywhere else. Somewhere she could catch her breath. Why was this throwing her so completely off balance?

Cyrus had killed the Alpha to become the Alpha. That was the way things worked. He’d been in wars. Someday some young werewolf was going to come and want to replace him as Alpha. They’d challenge him, and there would be a fight. Maybe Cyrus would die. Betsy shoved her head between her knees. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to hyperventilate.

“Are you okay?” Liana whispered in her ear.

“No.” She sat back up. “I think I’m having a hard time with some of the truths of our lives.”

“The dying part.” Liana nodded. “I know. Sometimes hearing them speak about it makes me really hot, and sometimes it makes me really scared.” She shook her head. “I think it’s one of those ways male werewolves are different. They’re almost eager to run off and die in a battle to prove something. It makes them fierce protectors and fine men. But it makes them reckless as hell. Maybe this isn’t a really good time to ask, but are there real differences between men and women who are human? I think there must be. I watch this television show called Sex and the City…”