Chapter Thirty

Laura turned to thank Finn.

“Ah, *tsk*. What a piece of shit..” he trailed to a mutter.

Laura twisted to see him examining the spine of one of the ruined books.

“I’ll charge it to the clan.” He looked at her.

“Ah, sounds good to me?” She wasn’t sure what he wanted her to say.

A toothy grin broke out, and she noted the smell of alcohol for the first time.

“Then all is good.”

He straightened, peering down at her.

“Hope I didn’t startle you too much–and pretty cool roots by the way. Shows personality.” His hands were on his hips.

*Roots?*

She reached up to touch her hair, pulling the strands in her face.

*Shit.*

She could just see the purple that apparently returned, closest to her scalp.

“Uh, thanks.” She tried not to show the panic she felt as she moved around him. A deep breath told her she indeed exuded her natural smell. Just a hint–but enough. She hoped he was tipsy enough not to smell her. *Maybe he’s on wolfsbane*. Her lip curled, but she hoped it to be the case.

It was becoming clear that doing anything other than staring at her bedroom wall was ill-suited for her.

Laura focused on masking herself–from her scent to her presence, as she quickly retreated in the direction of her room. She had to be under control by dinner.

But the hallway twisted and turned one too many times before she realized she’d missed her hall.

*Fuck.*

She came to a stop, lost in the castle's winding halls.

She’d regained enough control to be unable to scent herself, so she felt comfortable seeking out someone to ask for directions.

Laura passed a window.

The evening dusk beginning to settle above the trees told her it was probably closer to time than she realized.

Hannah was probably ripping her room apart.

*Haha.*

She sighed.

“..more are going..”

Her ears perked to the sound of conversation. It was a little ways off, and down an adjacent corridor. She hadn’t run into anyone else–amazingly, but she couldn’t smell the food from this direction either, so it made sense most shifters were close to where the event was.

“...Even. takes a hundred...there wou–..enough to profit!”

She could make out two distinct voices as she approached.

“We shouldn’t even be *having* this conversation here.”

Nausea stopped her in her tracks.

“Fuck all, Garrett, if you’d keep your voice down it wouldn’t matter where we had a conversation.”

“Look, I haven’t heard a word from my contact in weeks. The fact that wolfless bitch is walking around should say something.”

*Huh?*

They were talking about her?

She recognized Alpha Garrett's voice without needing confirmation.

“I can’t keep my men waiting much longer. They’re getting..antsy.”

“Those rogues are lucky to be employed. I’m sure you can put them to work with something else in the meantime, and if you have too many, off them–Even they can start to needlessly talk when idle,” Alpha Grayson spoke gruffly.

*There’s someone even he can be himself with, huh?*

“They’re plenty active. They’re just expecting top dollar.”

Laura’s eyebrows shot through the ceiling.

Whoever it was, in conversation with Alpha Grayson, they had to be important to not be dead for speaking how they were.

“I’ll personally head to the island and see for myself,” Alpha Grayson spoke with a growl.

Laura almost stumbled against the wall that supported her eavesdropping.

*Are they talking about* the *island?*

The psychotic hellhole she barely escaped?

Her eyes grew even wider. Did he know she was there? *How* could he know she was there?

But his earlier statement made sense, because she didn’t know of any other ‘wolfless bitch’ in the castle.

“Do you hear that?”

She felt she’d done enough eavesdropping.

It was probably best to just keep running in the direction she’d come from.

Running into someone–anyone–else was a better course of action.

***

The sun was starting to set.

He glared at the chest level pile of paperwork adorning his desk–the work that was supposed to be split evenly between him and Finn.

*Sigh.*

Things were becoming much more annoying.

Rowan cracked his neck, staring at the next request.

*More funding*.

Of course.

Over half of the papers he’d signed were approvals or rejections for more money.

He crumpled it, his irritation spiking.

He’d proposed a program for some of the younger clans to help grow in an industry beneficial to them that would generate clan wealth, thereby eliminating huge expenditures from the royal bank. Of course it came with the risk of certain clans threatening independence, but the likelihood of that actually happening was relatively nonexistent.

They weren’t the ruling family for nothing.

He crumpled the next request, a snarl ripping from his throat. Then he noticed the blood dripping from his fist, his claws having ripped into his skin.

The sight of it brought a new wave of anger.

He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths.

Why did he have this inexplicable urge to rip apart the nearest body?

*…one more time..swear i’m gonna–.*

He furrowed his brows.

What was that?

He focused again.

*…therfucker won’t be able to make pups..one hit..it’ll be so satisfying..*

He laughed, his confusion dissipating.

His anger wasn’t his own…

… But that meant his mate was angry.

He leaned forward, breathing wolfishly deep. Rowan’s eyes shifted as he caught the scent of his mate. He didn’t waste any time, crossing the space from his desk to the door in under a second.

He opened the door, taking another deep whiff–then bolted in her direction.

Rowan moved past a handful of guards and a couple of meandering candidates as he sprinted the length of corridors. He took turns wildly, willing to run through anyone in his path.

*Stronger.*

*Sweeter.*

Her scent was intoxicating as he came to a screeching stop in front of the library–the complete opposite side of the castle.

He was panting slightly, gums itching at the thought of his mate just beyond the doors.