Chapter Thirteen: Ryan's Desperation

Chapter Thirteen: Ryan's Desperation

Ryan’s POV

The sound of Freya's laughter cut through the ceremony hall like a knife to my heart. Observing her from the other end of the room I could see Palm reading with various dignitaries, one hand nestled softly against her swollen belly as Godric lurked at her shoulder stage left. She was glowing in a way I’d never experienced with her — confident, poised), completely comfortable in her own skin.

“She seems happy,” Daniel remarked under his breath, suddenly at my elbow with two glasses of whiskey. "Different."

“She doesn’t look anything like herself,” I muttered, taking the drink and drinking half of it down in a hot gulp. “Where’s the woman who required my approval for every decision? Who used to look at me like I was the moon?”

“Perhaps that woman didn’t actually exist,” Daniel said thoughtfully. “Perhaps you never allowed her to be anything else.”

What chaffed about the observation was that it rang with an uncomfortable kernel of truth. For all the years of our relationship, I’d kept Freya boxed in so carefully – the perfect Luna, nurturing and subservient, pretty without ever being attractive. I’d loved the concept of her more than who she might be.

“I can do with some talk to her,” I answered; and putting down my empty glass, held out my hand. "Alone."

"Ryan, that's not wise—"

But I was already in motion, elbowing my way through the crowd toward where Freya laughed at something Alpha Marcus of the Eastern Territory was saying about trade agreements. The light caught the emerald of her dress when she gestured, and I felt dazzled at how effortlessly she held attention without asking for it.

“Boys,” I interrupted, a smile that was like shattered glass. "I don't suppose the two of us still get to borrow my old Luna for a little while. We’ve got a… few pack issues to discuss.”

Alpha Marcus glanced back and forth between us in obvious anticipation, no doubt aware of the strains therein. "Of course, Alpha Ryan. Thank you for the enlightening discussion on mineral rights."

Would it be to easy if our eyes met and I found the emerarld set of hers were no longer calm?No, that would be too nice."It wasn't exactly polite freya's emerald orbs locked with mine as the other alphas pulled away. What the pack matters could we have to talk about? I am not a SilverFang any more.”

“You’re fucking carrying my baby,” I whispered staring down at her, moving closer until I was able to breathe in the familiar scent of her coupled with something darker, more dangerous – Godric’s scent marking her as his. “That makes some things our business.”

"I am with Godric's child," she said coolly, but there was a faint tightening around her eyes. “Biology and family are different.”

The words landed with such a blow, both mental and physical, but I kept going. "Freya, please. Can we speak privately? There's a balcony on the east corridor – that's where we'd go when we wanted to get away from things.”

Something that passed across her face for an instant — a memory, maybe, or recognition of closely held history. Then her mask of polite indifference reasserted itself.

"Very well. But make it quick. There is, my lord is unhappy when I am too long away from his side in strange parts.”

The jealousy in her tone of voice when she used his name had my wolf snarling, but I kept my face calm as I led her to the less public hallways of the pack house.

The east balcony looked just as I’d remembered it – the stone railings looking out over the gardens below, climbing roses scenting the air with their sweet fragrance. We had spent many nights here in our courtship and talked together about the future of living down there with children we’d have.

"You recognise this place," I added quietly, holding her face in the moonlight.

“There are plenty of things I remember,” she said, standing up at the railing but keeping space from me. “That doesn’t mean that they still matter.”

"I care about them," I said, giving up the small talk. "Freya, I've been a fool. The worst kind of fool. For duty, for tradition, I threw away everything that mattered, and I’ll spend the rest of my life doing penance for it.”

She looked at me then, and for all of the unspoken emotion in her eyes, there wasn’t much of it. That has softened her, now she merely waits for me to move on.

"I never should have taken Shirley when the Council brought her to me," I went on, spilling my guts. “I should have picked you, and chosen love over the politics. I know that now."

"And now what good am I supposed to do with that? she inquired, coldwater ice hanging from her voice like a trapeze.

“I want you to remember what we were,” I said, desperation breaking my voice. "Three years, Freya. Three years of love and partnership and creating something beautiful together. That has got to be worth something.”

“It didn’t mean anything the night you took her home. It meant nothing when you sacrificed my heart for your duty. It didn’t mean squat when you allowed her to shame me before the whole pack.”

“I was just trying to do what was right for everyone,” I murmured, as lame as it sounded.

“You were doing the opposite of making hard choices,” she corrected. "You wanted to have it both ways, to keep us both, fated mate and mister comfy relationship. You expect me to settle for coming second best, and be grateful for every scrap of attention you bartered out.”

Her observation was such a gut-punching blow of truth. "That's not... I never meant..."

“It doesn’t matter what you meant anymore,” she cut him off. “What does matter is what you did. And what you did is, every time it mattered, that was when you chose her over me.”

I reached for her then, needing that physical contact almost desperately, to touch the woman who had once softened against my arm with any of my movement. But she pulled back, subtly and smoothly, and kept the space between us.

“Don’t,” she said, her voice soft, though with steel at its core. "Don't touch me, Ryan. That's not your right anymore."

"It's my baby," I exclaimed. “Whatever we are to each other, that baby is my flesh and blood, my heir. You don’t get to just behave as if that doesn’t matter.”

“That baby will be raised by a father who desires them,” she said, one hand resting protectively on her rounded belly. “By a man who owned me even knowing I was pregnant and didn’t care. By an Alpha who considers children a blessing, not political tools.”

Before I could answer, the sound of Godric's voice sliced through the night like a knife.

"Is there a problem here?"

I looked over to see the Dark Alpha standing in the balcony doorway, his violet gaze trained on us with predatory intelligence. He flowed across the room toward me, easy and fluid a liquid dance, never letting on to Freya that it was even a competition.

"Just friends talking," I said, attempting to make my voice steady.

"Friends, ” said Godric as if the word were foreign on his tongue. "How... civilized." His hand rested proprietarily on Freya's lower back, and I saw her lean into it as though it was the most natural thing in the world. “I have been searching for you, little wolf. Our hosts are preparing to start the blessing ceremony.”

As soon as the intimate tone of casual endearment hit my window, my rage made me go blind. This bloke was groping my woman, pretending to be my child and living the life that I should have had.

“We’re not done talking,” I growled, unable to control my wolf now.

"Yes", Freya whispered, taking a further step, hereself completely into Godric's protective circle "we were."

Her voice had a finality to it like a door closing hard. I stood watching as she walked away without looking back and my place was taken by Godric to lead her back towards the ceremony. She didn’t look back, didn’t pause, didn’t betray one moment of doubt about walking me out onto the balcony where we’d once plotted our lives together.

I wasn’t moving even after their footsteps faded, not when I was sneering at the roses, choking out screams of grief that felt like they should be loud enough to reach the moon. When I eventually made it back to the hall of ceremony, my traveling bag was staring at me with a look that danced between pity and disgust.

"Well?" Daniel murmured as he walked alongside me.

“She’s gone, outside our reach,” I admitted and it was a bitter truth. "Whatever we had is gone. Now she’s his, thoroughly and entirely his.”

The admission, I thought, should have meant acceptance, and led to me getting on with my life and handling those that were now my responsibilities. Rather it only fuelled the desperate obsession that was raging through me. If who I was — my life experience, the struggles I’d overcome, the connections we shared — came to naught in her perception, then I would have to earn a person’s role according to the only universe she seemed willing to acknowledge.

I’d have to win her blood and battle, just like our ancestors had claimed their mates for generations. In a way, the challenge came none too soon.

"Ryan," Daniel said carefully, "you need to concentrate on your real mate and daughter. Shirley and Miu need you. The pack requires their Alpha to be both present and committed, not chasing his tail."
“She’s not a ghost,” I snarled so loud that a couple of pack members turned to glare at me. “She’s my Luna, my child’s mother, and I’ll be damned if that monster will keep what is mine.”

The murmur that followed on from my proclamation told me all I needed to know about the split loyalties in my pack. Half remembered Freya with affection and questioned my sanity in giving her up. The other half, dragged over by Shirley’s faction and Daniel's common sense, believed I was throwing my mind away on a woman who’d decided for herself.

But I didn’t give a whit what any of them had to say. Politics, pack stability and everything else that used to be important meant nothing to me then. All I could think of was the fight that would face me in two days, and the chance to show them that love could overcome power.
Even if it nearly killed me to get there.