Chapter 270
Alaric's POV
"Everything with you is complicated," I said, but I kept my tone light, teasing, and was rewarded with an actual, if small, smile. "Come on. I'll even make you that disgusting hot chocolate you like, the one with the obscene amount of marshmallows."
She started to follow me toward the house, but then, in a move that caught me completely off guard, she suddenly changed direction and headed straight for my SUV instead, her hand already reaching for the driver's side door handle. I watched in stunned disbelief as she slid into the driver's seat with a grace that shouldn't have been possible given her current state, her hands immediately going to the steering wheel, and the expression on her face—pure, unadulterated joy mixed with something that looked almost like mischief—made my stomach drop.
"Oh no," I said, already moving toward the vehicle. "No, no, no. Elowen, get out of the car. Kade is going to murder me. Like, literally murder me and leave my body for the crows."
He'll have to get in line, Slate added helpfully. Ronan will skin you alive first, and then Casper and Cassian will fight over who gets to finish the job.
"Please, Alaric." She looked at me through the windshield, and the pleading in her amber eyes was almost my undoing. "You're the only one who doesn't treat me like I'm about to break. Just let me drive your car from here to the front steps. Let me feel... normal. Just for a minute."
And wasn't that the crux of it? She didn't want to be coddled or protected or managed—she wanted to feel like herself again, wanted to reclaim some small piece of agency in a situation where everyone else was making decisions for her. It was such a simple request, such a tiny rebellion, and yet I could already hear Kade's furious lecture in my head, could imagine Ronan's disappointment, could feel the weight of my own better judgment screaming that this was a terrible idea.
But then I looked at her face, at the desperate hope flickering in her expression, and I thought: Fuck it.
"Fine," I said, moving around to the passenger side and pulling open the door. "But you wear your seatbelt, you drive at approximately two miles per hour, and if Kade asks, this never happened. We're taking this to our graves, understand?"
Her answering grin was bright enough to light up the entire driveway. "Deal," she said, and I climbed into the passenger seat, my hand instinctively gripping the door handle as she adjusted the seat and mirrors with the kind of careful precision that suggested she was taking this way more seriously than I'd expected.
This is a mistake, Slate said flatly. A huge, potentially catastrophic mistake. She's pregnant, emotional, just had a massive fight with two Alphas, and you're letting her operate a motor vehicle.
You're the one who said she needed to be treated normally, I shot back, but I couldn't quite shake the kernel of anxiety forming in my gut.
I love her—as a member of our pack—but how is she supposed to see past that belly to drive? Slate demanded, and I barely suppressed a groan because I'd just mentally translated that into the worst possible phrasing.
"Are you seriously suggesting she's too fat to drive?" I muttered under my breath, and then immediately wanted to kick myself because Elowen's head whipped around, her eyes narrowed with suspicion.
"What did you just say?" she asked, her tone dangerous.
"Nothing," I said quickly. "Slate was just... he's worried about the babies. That's all."
But she wasn't buying it, and before I could stop him, Slate surged forward in my consciousness, my eyes flashing pale blue as he took partial control. "I didn't say that!" he protested through my mouth, his voice overlapping with mine in that disconcerting way that happened when wolf and human spoke simultaneously. "Don't listen to him! I would never—"
Elowen's laugh cut through his indignant sputtering, bright and genuine and so unexpected that both Slate and I fell silent in shock. "No offense, Slate," she said, her amber eyes sparkling with amusement, "but I've seen Alaric's wolf form. I'm not the only round one in this house. I'm pregnant—what's your excuse, buddy? Too much deer meat?"
The sound of Slate's laughter echoing through my mind was so unexpected, so relieved, that I felt some of the tension I'd been carrying in my shoulders finally start to ease. She's going to be fine, I thought, and Slate's agreement thrummed through our bond. She's stronger than all of us.
"Buckle up, Alaric," Elowen said, her voice filled with an energy I hadn't heard from her in months. "Let me show you what this 'fat' girl can do with a little bit of freedom."