Liana continued, but Betsy ceased listening. Was Cyrus really okay with running off and dying? Leaving her alone while he had his name inscribed in some kind of book for the glorious dead? No. That couldn’t be. None of this would work without him. Being a werewolf could be okay because it also meant being his mate, but she didn’t want to be a werewolf if Cyrus didn’t live in the world.
She smiled at Liana stood up and left, even though Cyrus still spoke. She couldn’t take any more. Hopefully, the other woman would forgive her and think she was spacey, but she needed to get some perspective, and that wasn’t going to happen on the roof while everyone applauded the idea of Cyrus potentially getting himself killed.
Of course, wishing she wasn’t a werewolf was probably akin to wishing she’d been born with brown hair instead of blonde. There wasn’t anything she could do about her genetics, and no one sold beauty products to make her less moon-dependent or non-furry. She walked down the staircase back into the office building. The cool air of the air conditioning hit her skin, cooling her, and she suddenly realized she’d been sweating.
How had she not noticed? Betsy slowed down and pushed her head up against the wall. The hallway spun, and if she kept moving, all she was going to do was collapse. How had the reality of Cyrus’ existence not dawned on her before now?
She’d gone and fallen head over heels in love with a man—her mate—who had a job, no, a role in life, where the very nature of his position meant that people would want to kill him. If someone else wanted to be Alpha of Manhattan, all they had to do was challenge Cyrus to a fight and win.
Her mate had gotten the job at twenty years of age by killing Shepherd. If some young kid got a good swipe in, her whole life would shatter.
“Betsy.” Cyrus’ voice moved over her, and she lifted her head from the wall as he placed his hand on her back. She hadn’t scented him, which showed how floored her revelation had left her.
“What’s the matter, princess?” His voice soothed her nerves like a cold balm on a heat rash. He was alive right now. That had to count for something.
“Sorry. I guess I’m having a breakdown. Finally. I hope I didn’t spoil the ceremony. I suddenly had to get out of there.”
He pulled her against him. “It finished. All is well.”
She fit her head on his shoulder and breathed in his scent. “Good. I would have hated to have spoiled it.”
“What caused this response?” He kissed the side of her chin. She loved the warm feel of his breath as it brushed against her skin. They were totally exposed in a hallway, but she felt as though they were alone in the universe. “I know I haven’t been communicating a lot today. I had to consider things.”
“Right.” She pulled back, his words shattering the illusion of the quiet moment. “The decision to announce you would taste her killer’s blood or you would die trying. That decision.”
“Which part bothers you?” He crossed his arms on his chest. When he continued, it was not with gentle tones. “The eating, the blood, or the dying?”
“The dying, my Alpha.” If he was going to yell at her, then she’d speak to him as the others did and see how he liked it. “The sacrificing your life. And also—because I’m truly an idiot for not realizing it earlier—the fact that you could die any full moon if someone decided they wanted your job. One good lunge and you’re dead on the ground. It freaked me out.”
He shook his head. “I’m going to assume you said that because you are ignorant of my strength and fighting skills and not because you are doubting my ability to hold this pack, protect you, and defend myself from usurpers?”
“Assume whatever the hell you want.” She turned on her heel and stormed towards the stairs and then down them. He could get pissy by himself. She’d heard too many proclamations of death and destruction from him to fill a lifetime, and she couldn’t listen to any more. She had to deal with him on the airplane. Until then, she needed to think. Just a little distance to…
She heard Cyrus a bare second before he yanked her against him. “You don’t get to say that to me and walk away, mate.” He must have charged down the stairs to get to her so fast. “You know if you run, I chase.”
“Okay.” She shoved at his chest. “Then I won’t run, my Alpha. I’ll tell you exactly what I’m thinking since you seem disinclined to give me any space.”
“Stop calling me that. I don’t want that from you. There’s no such thing as space between us, Betsy.”