“You have my permission to always speak freely. I need your input.” Asking for help didn’t demonstrate a weakness, welcoming criticism didn’t either. He needed to hear their thoughts, even if he didn’t agree with them.
“I think Miss Jensen is good for you and whatever is in that packet, it’s her past and some of it is just her genetics.” Which suggested something in the report troubled him. “That said, you may have more issues closer to home than what exists there.”
“Go on.” Instead of relief at the Hunter’s support for his interest in Colby, apprehension fisted in his chest.
“The Danes think she’s Luc’s and there’s rumbling.”
Babette lived to gossip. She ran a salon a few miles away from their sleepy little burg, and thrived on everything she heard from her customers. The gossip extended to the pack, but Brett didn’t have the time or the inclination to worry about the inanity. The maternals generally took care of it among themselves.
“She’s not Luc’s mate.” Mating happened differently for different couples, but one truth held for all of them. Once a mate had been discovered, nothing separated them. Love triangles might work on television or film, but they didn’t happen in packs.
The Hunter glanced to the house, his expression troubled. “Whether she is or not…it shouldn’t be fanning the flames of rebellion.” Tapping his hand lightly on the roof of his car, he added, “Not even a verbal one. The pack doesn’t need it.”
No, they didn’t. Straightening, Brett didn’t let his internal frown reflect in his expression. Rebellion was not a word he wanted to hear bandied about lightly and particularly not in reference to Luc. The wolf had just returned or had he come home seeking something more than being needed by his friend?
“Sir, I wouldn’t have brought it up if I didn’t think it worth mentioning. There are rumbles. Not everyone is happy with…” He didn’t say it.
“They don’t have to be happy with me.” Arctic chill flowed in his veins. “They simply have to obey.”
“Yes, Alpha.” All pretense of warmth in the day evaporated. Pierce didn’t move as Brett considered his news. Gossip within the pack promoted ties, but also misinformation. Stemming gossip was no easy task. In fact, one stood a better chance of halting the planet’s rotation than ordering the pack not to whisper to each other of romantic entanglements and scandal.
“Keep listening, Pierce,” was all Brett would say. If it were just rumbling, it would die down. If it’s not? The whisper of his conscience cut at him. He’d trusted Marco. Trusted him with his life. Trusted him with all their lives and paid a steep and hefty price. He trusted Luc.
But could he really afford to? Or was the issue with Luc’s parents? The Danes had been as much a part of his childhood, growth and ascension as his own parents. Marco had also served him from the first year he took the pack as Alpha. If he could betray him, anyone could.
“As you wish, and I’ll make sure the Thompsons get home.”
The thick file seemed heavier somehow, so he tucked it under his arm and nodded to the Hunter. He stood in the yard, the sunshine cold on his cheeks while he waited for the Hunter to pull away. Remaining until he could no longer hear the vehicle, he wrestled with his choices. Gossip happened, but to give it his attention lent it credence. To ignore it, however, could leave him at a disadvantage if it were a genuine issue.
For fuck’s sake, we do not need another problem. He could call his mother and ask her to intervene gently. But I have relied on her and Dad too much. At the end of the day, they were his parents and he was Alpha. The burden was his to accept or not.
The screen door banged, announcing her arrival seconds before her sweet honeysuckle and vanilla scent enveloped him. The honeysuckle was a top note of her scent, ever-present and one he’d not let himself enjoy until he’d ascertained she wasn’t Luc’s.
From the steady beat of her heart to the way the grass crumpled under her feet, he was aware of every step she took to reach him. Two steps behind him, she paused. The faint whiff of coffee promised him a treat if he turned around.
“Good morning.” Her voice wrapped around him like an embrace, and not for the first time since he’d found Colby in his kitchen, he distrusted his reaction.
None of which was her fault. “Morning.” He pivoted, and she held out the fresh steaming coffee mug. “You found your breakfast, I hope?”
“You’re going to spoil a girl, feeding her regularly and having coffee ready when she wakes up.” Curiosity filled her eyes. A curiosity he’d seen there more than once over the last few days. She didn’t understand him, yet she seemed to comprehend his needs more than anyone else. Accepting the mug, he murmured a thank you. Colby didn’t trust him and held back in every interaction, whether they chatted about a news program or exchanged blood burning kisses. Twice he’d pulled her into his lap and she’d allowed him to hold her but inevitably she withdrew.