Not Caleb.
She hoped whoever it was wanted a fight, because her claws were itching to oblige.
Shana shouldered open the door and stalked in, belly low and hackles high. Landon, in human form, rose from the chair he’d been waiting in. The Alpha stared her down. From the look in his eye, he was all too willing to give her the fight she wanted.
For a brief, reckless moment, Shana wondered what it would feel like to go for his throat. She wondered if he would be able to shift before her teeth closed around his throat, their sharp points easily piercing the vulnerable human softness of his skin. How would he fight back? Would he try to overpower her with his size and strength, giving her the advantage of speed and flexibility? Could she defeat him?
The thought swirled in her brain like alcohol fumes, teasingly toxic.
Shana shook it away and shifted form. Landon averted his eyes as she went to grab a pair of jeans and a sweater.
“It’s not like you haven’t seen it all before,” she drawled as she yanked on the tight denim.
“And every time you remind me of that, I wonder why I haven’t already thrown you out of this pride.”
Shana snorted, unimpressed by the threat. “You can’t do that. It would ruin your whole I-accept-you-you-accept-me bullshit plan for us.”
The Alpha’s jaw locked. “It isn’t bullshit.”
She turned back to face him, shoving her sweater sleeves up as she folded her arms beneath her breasts. “You’re asking us to ignore hundreds of years of tradition and a hierarchy of strength that is as natural to us as breathing. It’s bullshit.”
“Equality is natural too.”
Shana laughed out loud at that little gem. “Are you freaking kidding me? Equality isn’t even natural to the humans. The drive to dominate, to win, is natural. This whole kumbaya crap is an attempt to overcome our natural urges. Not an extension of them.”
Landon was silent for a long moment, studying her. There was an oddly speculative gleam in his eyes. And something else. Something soft. Mushy. Like the way he looked at Ava. The way Caleb used to look at her.
“What?” she snarled.
He shook his head. “I was just thinking how lucky I am not to have chosen you as my mate.”
“Yeah, well, the feeling’s mutual, asshole.”
Landon sighed. “You can’t call the Alpha an asshole, Shana.”
“Oh, yeah? You’re not a big fan of freedom of speech, then? Just equality. No freedom. I get it.”
He wiped a hand across his eyes, groaning. “I didn’t come here to argue with you. Ava told me about you and Caleb.”
Shana’s eyebrows flew up. “Your wife told you about my sex life? That must have been a real bonding moment for you two. Was it good for you?”
Landon ignored her snide remark. “He won’t fight me for you,” he said. “No matter what you do to him. Caleb’s loyal and he doesn’t want to be Alpha.”
Shana’s temper spiked. “God, what is it with you guys? That isn’t what I want anymore, get it? How long are you going to punish me for the actions of the past?”
“The past?” Landon asked in disbelief. “We’re talking about yesterday. You told him to challenge me in front of the whole pride.”
“Yeah, but that was yesterday. Past. I’ve got a new game plan now.”
“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of. You and your game plans.”
“I don’t care about being the Alpha’s mate anymore,” Shana insisted, wondering as she said it if the words were actually true. They didn’t feel true, but she wanted them to be. She wanted to just want Caleb. She wanted to not be twisted and power hungry.
“Look, Ava tells me your mom is no picnic—”
“Don’t you talk about her,” Shana snarled, her claws flashing out as anger boiled hot in her veins.
Landon raised his hands in surrender, but his words continued, relentlessly. “Ava’s worried about Caleb. She doesn’t want you hurting him. And as long as you’re tangled up in your mother’s power plays, someone’s going to get hurt.”
“You’re asking me to choose between Caleb and my mother.”
“I’m asking you to think about what you’re doing and who it’s benefiting—if anyone—before you go starting any more fights.”
Shana’s blood cooled as the logic of what he was saying slowly penetrated her anger. “My mother would never do anything to hurt me,” she said, even though the words felt like sawdust on her tongue.
Landon didn’t call her a liar. Her estimation of him rose a few notches.
“Look, I believe in second chances,” he said. “This is my second chance at a healthy pride and I’m going to make it work. But the thing about second chances is they don’t work if you’re carrying a grudge. Forgetting is a bitch, but you’ve got to at least try the forgiveness part or you’ll never get away from your past.” He moved past her to the door, pausing at the threshold. “If you want to get away from it.”
After the Alpha disappeared out the door, Shana dropped down onto her bed, drawing her knees up to her chest.
She’d asked Caleb to forgive her that morning and he’d thrown it back in her face. What the hell else was she supposed to do? She couldn’t make him forgive her. It wasn’t like she could fight him for his forgiveness.
She’d offered to let him spank her—which had actually been damn hot—but that hadn’t earned her any brownie points on the forgiveness scale. What did he want from her?
Anger boiled up again, hot and thick in her veins.
No one was satisfied. Caleb, the Alpha, her mother. Shana wasn’t good enough for any of them.
The anger swirled around, seeking a target, finally settling on her mother.
It was her fault. If she hadn’t filled Shana’s head with tradition and her rightful role, none of this would have happened. Shana would have stuck with Caleb, happily paired off with him at the age of sixteen. She wouldn’t be the wretched mess she was today, alone and likely to remain that way.
The anger burned, its acid turning in on her. Shana fisted her hands, her claws digging bloody gouges into her palms. The pain was welcome, the scent of blood hot and thick in her nostrils. Brenna had done this. She’d ruined her.
Then, suddenly, Shana realized what the Alpha had meant. Caleb wasn’t the problem. He wasn’t the one who needed to forgive. She was.
Chapter Nine
Shana crunched through the snow on her way to a reckoning that was long overdue.
She stopped in front of the all-too-familiar bungalow and braced herself for the confrontation to come. Backing out now wasn’t an option.
She was going to lose Caleb—if she hadn’t already lost him—all because of some stupid slip of the tongue. All because she couldn’t seem to stop being her mama’s girl. It was past time that changed. It was time she changed.
The house looked like something out of a goddamn painting, snowy and homey and sweet. Shana kicked a snowdrift off the porch to wreck the postcard perfection of the scene. She pounded her fist on the door, loud enough to be heard through an early morning hangover stupor. At the vaguely human groan of “Come in,” she stomped in and kicked the door shut behind her.
Shana planted her feet and crossed her arms, hoping she looked like walking, talking menace, but feeling nervous and tremblingly small, as only her mother could ever make her feel.
Brenna pushed herself up to a sitting position on the messy daybed where she often passed out. She blinked at Shana blearily. “Shana-bay? When did you get back?”
“I’ve been back,” Shana snapped. “I was here yesterday.”
Brenna frowned in confusion. “Was that yesterday?”