He looked over the charred remains and contemplated how the Omegas would ever be able to rebuild here. It was tainted land, and even beyond that, it was going to have to be completely razed and begun anew. Picking up his phone, he made a call to Boston, getting his brothers on a conference call and running things past them.
“A clan made of nothing but Omegas and children?” Fergus scoffed.
“Apparently so.”
“Well, you said you wanted to reclaim our roots there and bring the local clans into the twenty-first century. Nothing more modern than women’s rights, I guess.”
“Tell these guys that. I’m quite sure at least two-thirds of them would prefer to hang her or burn her at the stake.”
“But not you?”
“Not yet, but she’s got a mouth on her, so there is always a chance I’ll change my mind.”
Fergus laughed, Niall and Olcan joining him in the background. They hashed things out a little longer and then hung up, leaving the details up to Ronan. He made some more calls and then headed back to the hotel. He’d barely gotten settled in when there was a knock on the door.
“Returning to the scene of the crime?” he asked, opening it up to find Maeve on the other side.
“I just wanted to stop by and thank you, for today.”
“I didn’t do anything. I just gave you an opening to state your case.”
“That was a lot, and you know it.”
“Well, you’re welcome then. Goodnight,” he said, already closing the door.
“Ronan, wait. . .” she began, but he cut her off.
“No. Unlike some men, I learn from my mistakes—and you can address me as Alpha from now on.”
“Ronan, come on,” she said. He glared at her for a moment, and she stopped. “Okay, Alpha. I’ll see you at the next council meeting.”
“See you there, Omega.”
He closed the door and walked back toward the window, looking out over the city around him. He felt unsettled in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. He wanted to go after her. He wanted to lay his claim to her. Even with her gone, he could still feel her, smell her.
Fuck, he needed a drink. He changed clothes and headed downstairs to the hotel bar.
“Jameson’s,” he told the bartender.
“Make it two,” a voice beside him added.
Ronan turned and groaned. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m just having a drink, Alpha,” she purred.
“Right,” he told her, accepting his drink from the bartender and standing up to leave. He relocated to a chair near the fire and settled in, trying his best to push her out of his mind. Why she had such an effect on him, he wasn’t sure. It seemed the harder he tried to purge her from his thoughts, the more she stubbornly rose to the top.
He had made a point of selecting a chair with his back to her so he wouldn’t be tempted to watch her and only found himself staring at the back of the empty seat ahead of him, pondering whether he should switch seats, but the urge finally passed as he caught movement beside him. She was passing outside his window and into the night. It was a relief, and also unbearable.
“What’s up, mate?” a voice said, plopping into the seat across from him.
He turned back to find himself looking at Andrew. Could the evening get any worse? He’d only wanted a few drinks and to go to bed early. He had a lot to do tomorrow.
“Andrew,” he said.
“Am I interrupting anything? I saw your Omega leaving.”
“She’s not my Omega, and she wasn’t here with me,” Ronan said, punctuating his words with a loud sigh.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to put you on the defense.”
“You didn’t. Why are you here, Andrew?”
“I just popped ‘round for a pint, mate.”
“I’m not your mate,” Ronan growled.
Andrew’s eyebrows shot up and he nodded in acknowledgment. “Sorry, ma . . . Alpha.”
Ronan picked up his glass and downed the rest of his Jameson’s. He stood and wordlessly walked away from the table, agitated for reasons he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Andrew made no attempt to call him back or follow. He knew he was rude, but he had no desire to be any closer to Andrew than required to keep the peace.
Back in his room, he sat down with a pad of paper and began making notes, referencing the stack of documents that had been dropped off to him earlier in the evening. When he was done, he had a surprisingly good idea of how he wanted to proceed with things. He contemplated calling Maeve to discuss some of his ideas that would affect her clan but decided it was a bad idea and could wait until daylight and a location that didn’t afford him the opportunity to repeat his carnal mistakes with her.
He put everything aside and laid down across the bed, turning on the television to some mindless drivel chosen for its surety to put him to sleep, but all he did was toss and turn. All he could think about was her, and when he finally managed to drift off, his mind remained with thoughts of her, leading him to a dream that felt all too real.