“Yes.”
“And why you were suspicious of Ashley,” he continued.
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“I already told you my reasons for disliking the…” Biting back the word she wanted to used, she finished with, “skank.”
He waved the Ashley issue away. “You said Conor told you not to trust anyone in the pack?”
Shay shook her head. “I told you I was paraphrasing. His actual words were, ‘You must fight to hold on to what is yours. Treachery surrounds you. Only by uniting together will you be victorious. Show no mercy. Your daughters’ safety depends on the decisions you make now.’” She left out the part about Rory loving her totally and completely, just the way she was. It wasn’t pertinent to their current conversation, and Conor had proven to be right about Rory loving her.
Rory let loose with another string of words. And she thought she knew how to curse. Compared to him, she was a naive amateur. She waited for him to settle down. When he quieted, she told him, “You can’t talk like that once the baby gets here. She’ll have a potty mouth.”
Nonplussed, he stared at her.
“Besides you promised not to blow up.” She pointed at him. “You, Mount Saint Helens, just erupted all over the place.”
“You can’t tell me my family’s in danger and not expect me to react!”
Shay arched an eyebrow and waited for him to calm. He looked like he wanted to hurt someone. Then he eyed the wall. “You punch a hole in that wall and you’ll have to fix it…tonight.”
The look he shot her should have singed the hair on her head. He paced in short, angry strides, back and forth. Shay placed some pillows behind her back and propped against the headboard, ready to wait him out.
After about five minutes of muttering and movement, he stopped with his back to her and clutched two handfuls of hair. Good thing he was a werewolf. If he kept pulling like that, he’d go bald. Finally he came and sat on the bed beside her.
“I don’t know if I completely buy into all this mumbo jumbo stuff—”
“You mean like werewolves and vampires being real?” Shay murmured wryly.
“But…he’s right about one thing. We’re a unit. Two halves of a whole. For this…us…to work, we have to learn to trust each other. And we can’t keep secrets,” he stated with a pointed stare.
She met his gaze with a bland expression, knowing she damn well would continue to determine when and what to share with him. An open book she wasn’t, and neither was he.
Before the silence could drag out too long, she asked, “So what’s the plan?”
When he didn’t say anything, she added, “You do have a plan, don’t you? We only have five months to figure this shit out or some folks are going to start dying. I will not have my children threatened.”
Rory seemed to come to some inner decision. The lethal smile that crept into the open boded ill to whomever it was aimed toward. Anyone else viewing it would have been chilled. “I’ll handle it,” he said. His tone was equally deadly.
Shay felt the pulse of temper tattoo a beat in her left temple. “You mean we’ll handle it, right? Mr. We’re a Unit, Two Halves of a Whole?”
He scowled. “No, I don’t. This half of our unit knows where the threat lies, so I’ll take care of it. No need to involve you and the babe.”
“Excuse me, but the word ‘treachery’ implies that you don’t know who the enemy or enemies are. You only think you do,” she snapped.
He leaned forward and planted his hands on either side of her hips. “I know my pack. I not only rule them, I live and grew up with them. I know who’s the most likely to want to do you harm.” His hazel eyes bled to gold, and a hint of fang showed in his mouth.
“And if you’re wrong?”
“I’m not!”
“But if you are? This is my life you’re talking about.”
“Wrong! It’s our lives because you are my life,” he roared as he shot to his feet.
Talk about taking the wind out of someone’s sails. His words weren’t flowery, but they were heartfelt and knocked the building anger right out of her. She no longer felt like arguing. Besides, Conor had said the decisions she made would be the determining factor.
“You’re right.” Her tone was so calm, so reasonable it had him observing her suspiciously. Probably waiting for the catch. “Your child and I are hungry. Feed us.”
Without waiting for him to react, Shay rose and went to one of the dressers, pulling out a pair of shorts and a tank. She still smelled like sex and Rory, but the scents appealed so she dressed without washing. She turned to find him still standing there.
“Food,” she prompted and, as her gaze fell on the discarded luggage, added, “and do something with those.”
Muttering something about pregnancy, mood swings, and incomprehensible women, Rory snagged his pants from the floor, donned them, and then snatched up her suitcases.
“The small one fits inside the larger for storage,” she told him.
From the doorway he glanced over his shoulder at her and snarled, “I’m not a bleeding idiot!” before leaving the room.
Patting her still-flat stomach, Shay told her child, “Your daddy’s pissed with me. Let’s give him a little time to calm.”
She remade the bed and rearranged the items on the dressers. Then went into the bathroom and straightened the medicine cabinets. While she worked, she went back to her earlier line of thought.
The decision she’d made. Hmm…
What she’d told Rory was correct. She did trust him to protect her from any and all threats of which he was aware. The problem was Rory had a huge blind spot when it came to his pack.
In this area she had an advantage. Sort of. Since she didn’t know the people, she could be more objective. Of course, her unfamiliarity with the pack was also a huge drawback. How did she distinguish between normal and suspicious? Maybe this was why Conor said it would take both of them. Rory’s knowledge coupled with her objectivity.
The smell of marinara sauce drifted into the bedroom. Dinner was almost done.
Sighing, she gave the thoughts circling in her head a break and went down to join her mate. “Can I help with anything?” she asked as she entered the kitchen.
“No, I have it.” His tone was brisk but not angry. The space from each other had helped, as she’d hoped it would.
Rory gestured her to the table. He served up the spaghetti, then joined her. “Let me know if the tomato sauce gives you a problem. Some pregnant women find it too acidic.”
Shay poked at a piece of ground beef with her fork. “You have so much meat in this, I doubt it will be an issue.”
He grunted in reply. A comfortable silence settled as they ate.
After the worst of her hunger was sated—she hadn’t lied about being hungry—Shay waved her fork at Rory. “Tell me more about the Sparrowhawks. Who are the major players and what do you think of them?”
The fork paused halfway to his mouth as he looked at her. “Why?”
She chopped up a few more noodles as she answered. “Because I’ll be meeting them—” She broke off as she remembered Rory said he was calling the pack together but didn’t say when. “When exactly are we having this little shindig?”
“Tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow?” Her eating utensil clattered onto the table. “Why so soon?”
“This is a small town, a small pack. Word travels quickly. I wanted to have you to myself for a few days before having to share you with the others. That won’t be possible now that members of the pack know about you. Better to take control and make an official announcement.”
Shay rubbed wearily at her forehead. “All the more reason for you to give me an idea what to expect.”