Across The Line. Amy Lee Burgess

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      Fee’s hip bones protruded alarmingly above the waistband of her blue-and-white striped bikini panties. She wore a short blue robe, untied, over them. How had she gotten so thin?

      Any weight she’d gained from her pregnancy had melted away and then some. She was so scrawny I probably could have pushed her over with one finger.

      I rocked in the chair by the window. Murphy brought the rocker home one afternoon shortly after Will’s birth so Fee would have a place to nurse him in the middle of the night.

      Will was in my arms, fussy and hungry, but freshly washed and changed. I’d bathed him while Fee showered. Halfway through Will’s bath in the kitchen sink, Murphy had returned from the store with a bag of groceries. He’d looked marginally less exhausted, and he’d shaved, but all the sleep in the world couldn’t erase the weight of the sorrow he carried.

      “I’ll take him,” said Fee as she padded across the hardwood floor and tossed her damp towel across the unmade bed. Her sandy blond hair was wet against the side of her thin cheek, and she pushed it away impatiently.

      “You can finish dressing,” I told her. Will was a barrier between me and the morning. As long as I could hold him, I didn’t have to get dressed and take the pack bond.

      I’d woken with a sour, churning stomach and a dry mouth I’d tried to fix with chamomile tea, to no avail. Holding the baby helped. Small and frail, he was someone I could protect and keep safe. He’d need a sitter while Fee and the rest of the adult pack attended the hunt. Why couldn’t the sitter be me?

      “Nah. I’d just have to take half it off again to feed him, wouldn’t I?” She gave me a lopsided smile which didn’t reach her greeny-gold eyes. I smiled back at her to show there were no hard feelings from the night before, though I was pretty sure she didn’t even remember how bitchy she’d been to me.

      With reluctance, I shifted Will in my arms so I could pass him to her. She surprised me when she reached out a hand to touch my face.

      “I love you like a sister. You know that, don’tcha?”

      “Of course,” I answered. “Right back at you, Alpha.”

      I listened to her croon an Irish song to her son as Will nursed while I threw on jeans and a turtleneck sweater. It didn’t matter what the hell I wore to the hunt—I’d only have to take it off to shift. But maybe there was a ceremony or something for the pack bond part.

      In the kitchen, Murphy was stirring a pan of scrambled eggs. His attire was no help—jeans and a sweater.

      Ah, fuck it. I’d change if he and Fee dressed up, but I could eat breakfast in jeans. If I could eat. My stomach gave another ominous churn. I found my mug of tea on the table and took a hasty sip. Cold. Barf.

      “You’re my rock, you know that?” Murphy kept his attention focused on the eggs, so he missed my shocked stare. “I’ll take you to that French restaurant soon, I swear, Stanzie.”

      “How did you know?” I hadn’t told him in case things hadn’t worked out. Good call on my part because they hadn’t.

      “Restaurant called to confirm the reservations last night,” he said. I winced. Damn. Why hadn’t I taken my cell phone into the bedroom?

      “There will be other times.” I headed for the electric kettle to boil more water. Cold chamomile tea was disgusting.

      “But we’ll have to wait a whole year for it to be our anniversary again,” he said, and a flood of warmth rushed through me. He remembered. I hadn’t been sure he would. It was not as if our bonding had been all hearts and flowers romantic. He’d done it to save my ass from Councilor Celine Ducharme. We hadn’t even slept in the same bed the first night. He’d been fleeing the ghost of Sorcha, and I’d ended up drunk and sad on a bottle of champagne. Fun times. But still, he remembered.

      “Pack don’t celebrate anniversaries like Others do. It’s not a big deal, Murphy.”

      He took the kettle out of my hands and set it down on the dark granite counter so he could hug me. In the cocoon of his arms, I felt safe. Loved. How long had it been since we’d hugged each other? I couldn’t even remember.

      I buried my face in his neck and inhaled his unique, beloved scent. Autumn wind and leather. God, I loved this man.

      “You’ve been so damn patient, Stanzie. I keep waiting for you to get angry, but you never do.” His mouth was so close to my ear, the warmth of his breath sent shivers down my spine.

      “Angry about what?” I was honestly confused.

      “You see? That’s why you’re my rock. Everyone in this damned pack is falling to pieces expecting me to pick them up and put them back together but you don’t. You suffer just as much, more even, and you don’t come crying to me to be fixed.”

      I swallowed past an obstruction in my throat. So many times I’d wanted to cry in his arms, and let him cry in mine, but Fee or their mother, Siobhan, or any number of Mac Tire pack members had always gotten there first.

      “I know you don’t want to take the pack bond, but I can’t wait. They’ll turn to Colm after that. Colm and Deirdre because they know Fee’s too close to the grief. I’m walking such a fine line, honey. I try to send them to Colm, but they won’t go.”

      I hadn’t thought of the pack bond from that perspective. Nor had I considered Murphy might be uneasily aware he was close to usurping Colm’s position as Alpha. In times of crises and grief, a pack member’s natural inclination was to turn to his Alpha, but they’d been turning to Murphy. But the realization they hadn’t also turned to Colm and Deirdre was new to me.

      That had to be a dilemma for Murphy. Another one. More than ever, I was glad I hadn’t added my neediness to his already heavy load.

      “I guess they remember what a wonderful Alpha you were.” I brushed my fingers along the side of his face and his lashes swept his cheeks.

      “You’ll be fine today, Stanzie,” he told me when he opened his dark eyes. “You and your wolf.”

      For a shiny moment I even believed him. No wonder the whole damn pack turned to him.

      * * * *

      The moment the three of us alighted from Murphy’s black BMW, a crowd of jostling pack members surrounded us. Intent on getting to Fee, Murphy or both, I soon found myself on the outside of the cluster.

      I took Will in his car seat out of the BMW and shouldered his diaper bag. The kids of the pack, including the more responsible teens who would not be shifting, were inside the castle and would watch over the baby during the hunt.

      I shuddered when I looked at the cold gray stones of Mac Tire’s castle. Technically, it belonged to the Ireland and UK Mac Tire packs, who contributed to its upkeep. Also a safe house, both the Regional and Great Councils paid into the funds used for taxes, grounds keeping, and general repairs.

      But the Dublin pack СКАЧАТЬ