Dom (The Pack 4)

“Which means?”

“If you mate with a male who can shift, there’s a high chance the babies you have together will be able to shift.”

“You say, ‘able to shift’ like some might have the gene and can’t shift?”

“Yes, Caleb’s older brother is an example,” I answered and she blinked in surprise. I saw it and smiled. “Yes, the alpha has a son who isn’t a shifter. He does carry the recessive gene though.”

“How does that work?” She asked, looking fascinated.

“Well, his father, the alpha, fell in love with a girl who didn’t have any shifter genes. Caleb’s brother was the result.”

“And Caleb?” She pushed, sensing a story.

“Has a different mother,” I stated evasively. “What makes you different is that you were not raised in a pack. You have the gene from your father, but he’s not a shifter and there are no indications either of you were aware of shifters before coming here.”

“My dad was adopted,” she told me as she processed the information I’d thrown at her. “How did you know though?”

“Know?” I hedged, as we skirted uncomfortably close to a topic I’d prefer to avoid, but she wasn’t going to let it go.

“That I have the gene.”

She sensed my discomfort and raised my eyebrow, “Really? Spit it out.”

“Your scent,” I gritted out.

“Back to that. You seem really bothered by my scent and so did those Hanley’s but Caleb doesn’t seem to care.”

“Caleb isn’t old enough to mate,” I growled, bristling at the thought she might like Caleb. She edged away from me.

“Okay, chill. I wasn’t asking for myself,” she commented, but it didn’t ease my sudden jealousy.

“Good thing,” I snapped, not calming down in the slightest. “That little mark on your neck would be a hell of a lot more permanent if you were.”

The mark chose that moment to burn as we stood there tensely staring at one another for a second.

“Sorry,” I muttered, wiping my mouth as she lowered her gaze. “That was uncalled for.” I rubbed the back of my neck, the anger draining from me and started walking again. “I never realized how strong the mating desire was until I met you. We instinctively know by scent a female that can bear our young. The longer we’re in contact the stronger the desire becomes to claim.”

“So, you don’t develop an immunity the longer I’m around you?” She joked.

“No, afraid not. And when you’re in heat…”

“What?” She yelped.

“It’s not like a wolf,” I rushed to reassure her. “Not exactly. Women ovulate. When you’re fertile, you’re difficult to resist,” I finished awkwardly, my face tight and she seemed to comprehend how difficult.

“The Hanleys. The day they chased me,” she murmured.

“Yes,” I broke off and she didn’t press, her expression growing distracted.

“I guess I should thank you,” she mumbled quietly and I gave an unamused chuckle, knowing what she was thinking about – the moment I’d almost lost all control after the Hanleys had come after her.

“You should thank me every day you aren’t pinned to the ground and mounted,” I gritted out, breathing shallowly as desire flared through her.

“Another topic?” She asked faintly and I nodded gratefully, edging a little further away.

“We’re not a large pack. Less than a dozen can shift which puts us at a disadvantage,” I stated matter of factly. “The Hanleys have focused on increasing the number of shifters in their pack for years. Basically by breeding any female they can get their hands on, willing or not.”

“Like me.”

“Exactly. My sister – ” I cleared my throat, but didn’t finish the thought, not ready to go into all the ways I’d failed my sister. “Now they need more land, and the easiest way to do that is to take our territory. Add in the fact that we’ve never gotten along,” I stopped and she finished the sentence.

“And it means war.”

“Yes, in a nutshell.”

“But not everyone agrees.”

“No, and I understand why they are resisting, but what I don’t think they get is we won’t have a choice.”

“You could leave,” she said quietly.

“No,” I denied. “I can’t. I left for college, got my degree and came right back here. This is my home and I can’t walk away from it without a fight.” I glanced down at her in sympathy, my next words difficult but necessary. “You would need to leave as well. In fact, leaving may be the safest thing for you.”

She didn’t answer, didn’t mention college or her insistent desire to leave the second she graduated, and I wasn’t sure how to feel.

The motel came in sight and instead of leaving her; I continued to walk with her. She fiddled with the strap on her backpack then reached behind her, tugging a gun from her waistband.

I eyed her curiously. “Would you have used it?”

“If necessary,” she replied quietly, determination echoing through her words.

“I admire your courage even as I curse your foolishness,” I murmured as we reached the apartment door.