And that was the part that troubled Hollis. He’d already lost his free will when Finn turned him. If Finn ever played the Alpha card, Hollis had no choice. But not choosing the person he’d spend his life with? Having some uncontrollable urge pick for him? It bothered the hell out of him.
“Not like there are a lot of choices,” Anders said, his gaze bouncing around the table. He paused when he reached Ellen. Ellen, who was staring at him. “I mean, no offense, Ellen, but—”
“None taken,” Ellen said, swirling her fork in her spaghetti. “I fear you wouldn’t survive.” Her eyes narrowed slightly, every bit the predator assessing her prey.
Hollis smiled.
Anders chuckled.
“Besides, now that the baby’s here, she’ll be leaving. Not exactly mate material,” Dante said, his eyes on his plate.
Ellen glanced at him then, her mismatched gaze holding his for an instant. Finn said that wasn’t going to happen—not yet. But Ellen was stubborn, she wouldn’t give up. Try as he might, he couldn’t imagine the pack without her. But keeping her here wouldn’t be easy. Finding a mate here would take care of that. He swallowed, set his fork on his plate, and glanced at Anders, then Dante. Either choice was a recipe for disaster. Then again, both Mal’s and Finn’s restlessness had been tempered when they found their mates. Not that he could imagine the same happening to Ellen.
What sort of mate would she be?
Hollis had spent the last ten years watching them all shift. His heart murmur was a blessing and curse. Not being able to shift took some pressure off. But sitting back while his family faced danger over and over, while he was left in his human form—and a liability in action—sucked. He stayed in shape, working out tirelessly to keep his body in peak condition. And weapons? Gentry put him through his paces. Sometimes he’d drag his ass out of bed at three in the morning just to test him. Knives, guns, explosives, staying light on his feet and senses sharp—that was all he could do so he did it. But he still couldn’t shift. Ten years of being infected but never shifting. Or meeting his wolf—if he had one.
“Jessa sleeping?” Hollis asked, eager to shift gears.
Finn nodded, glancing at the door. “Kids, too.”
“How’s it feel, man? Married and two kids. And, you know, the whole Alpha thing.” Anders shook his head. “Talk about responsibility.”
Finn didn’t seem to mind. He looked happy. Even knowing there was a pack of bloodthirsty fuckers eager to h
unt them down—Finn was happy.
“It agrees with you,” Ellen said, biting off a hunk of garlic bread. “How a man bears his responsibility reveals his potential for leadership.”
Finn sat back. “I’m pretty sure that was a compliment.” His pale-blue eyes regarded Ellen.
Hollis bristled.
“It won’t happen again.” Her finely arched brows rose, the intricate tattoo framing the corner of her eye raising, too.
Hollis couldn’t hold back his smile. She was fearless.
“I’m too tired to think of a good comeback to that.” Finn shook his head. “I’m gonna crash before someone wakes up.”
“Let me know when Jessa’s up. I’d like to assess her and the baby,” he said.
“Will do.” Finn nodded, carried his plate to the kitchen, then disappeared down the other end of the hall.
Ellen stood, unfolding herself from her chair and moving silently across the floor.
Three pairs of eyes followed her. She was mesmerizing to watch. The illusion of femininity. Graceful, agile, and lethal in a way that both terrified and impressed him.
“Up for some pool?” Anders asked her. His attempts to teach Ellen had ended with her breaking two pool sticks—one over Anders head. He had to give Anders props for his determination.
Ellen shook her head.
“Poker?” Anders asked.
She shook her head again. “I need to hit something.”
“Hollis is free,” Dante muttered, making both he and Anders laugh out loud.
Ellen was smiling when she looked his way. “Are you?” she asked. “I promise not to hit too hard.”