“Tell me it’s a joke,” Merinus said quietly. “Even Callan was hopeful that this ceremony would take place soon and cement Anya’s position. Without it, her standing among Del-Rey’s people will be weakened. Their respect for her will erode.”
Hope shook her head. “I’m afraid it’s not a joke.”
“Have Wolfe talk to him,” Merinus urged. “This ceremony is too important, Hope.”
Hope thought about that, she considered it. She sighed. “This is something he’ll have to see for himself, and it’s a fight Anya has to face alone. We can support her if she needs us, Merinus, but there’s little else we can do.”
“Damned stubborn Coyote,” Merinus cursed. “Pain in the ass.”
“For both of us,” Hope said quietly. “Hopefully I can get to the base and talk to her soon. I’ll let you know what I learn.”
Merinus sighed. “I’ll call her soon. That email broke my heart. She needs time I think before talking to me.”
Hope nodded. “I’ll give her a day or so. Until then, we’ll pray.”
“And pray,” Merinus stated. “Poor Anya.”
Poor Anya.
Poor Del-Rey.
Because Hope knew this was going to cause more trouble for the alpha than he could have considered. The mating for an alpha was one thing; acceptance by the men who followed him was another, as she and Wolfe had both learned. For some reason the wedding ceremony that meant so much in the human world meant just as much in Breed society, perhaps more so, especially for an alpha.
If an alpha didn’t accept his mate, then his men wouldn’t accept her either. The past eight months, the order of separation and Anya’s refusal to accept her alpha hadn’t seemed to faze the Coyote soldiers. They had accepted her despite that. Because they had believed the decision was out of Del-Rey’s hands. Once this was learned, Anya’s position at Base would erode, and the problems she faced wouldn’t be easy.
Not for Anya. And most definitely not for Del-Rey.
Hope emailed the only other person she could think of that could help with this particular problem. The one man that might have enough sway to convince his alpha of the error of his ways.
His brother.
Brim.
Brim stared at the email, at the forwarded text plus the lupina’s message, and felt a curl of anger unfold within him. Son of a bitch. Maybe this time they would fight after all.
CHAPTER 20
Del-Rey checked on Anya after she left their rooms. A frown pulled at his brows when he learned she was in the kitchen area. Striding through the base, he moved past the community room and into the kitchen.
With only the sound of movement and four women working in silence, the damned place was eerie. There was an air of heaviness, tension, a subtle scent of pain and anger and an underlying chill that he couldn’t put his finger on.
Anya lifted her head from the bowls and ingredients she was working on. Her eyes were dark, and perhaps there were shadows under them.
“There are cold cuts in the fridge if you need a sandwich,” she told him. “I’ll have egg and assorted meat biscuits in an hour if you’d like to wait.”
“You don’t have kitchen duty.” He hardened his voice.
“No one has kitchen duty.” She shrugged. “Cleanup is a far cry from making certain there’s actually food on base and certain items ready to eat when your teams get hungry, Del-Rey. There are well over sixty soldiers here at last count with several dozen more coming. Someone has to make certain supplies are kept up with.”
“Add it to the duties with rotation,” he ordered her.
He watched her pour milk into a huge bowl of flour and begin working it in. Her head was lowered, her expression calm and composed, when he knew she was anything but.
“Doesn’t work that way.” She shook her head.
“Then make it work,” he bit out. “We have things to discuss that require both our attention, not you standing elbows deep in a bowl of flour.”
She looked up at the clock on the wall. “You can table your discussions for two hours,” she decided. “Pencil me into your schedule after that and let me know what time to meet you where.”
“So we’re scheduling in f**king now?” he snarled, ignoring the other women.
Her head jerked up, a flicker of pain crossing her face. “If that’s the discussion, then I guess that’s what we’re doing.”
He felt almost helpless. He remembered that feeling clearly from his youth. So clearly it punched into his brain and left a growl rumbling in his throat. With a steel cage surrounding him, he had watched, so many times, as his brothers and sisters were murdered before his eyes. Coyote Breeds that were considered flawed, because they had mercy, because they reached out to one another. Children no more than babies that cried for attention or for food when there was none left. Cut down before his eyes. And if he tried to fight, if he tried to save them, then others died as well. They hadn’t been kind enough to go ahead and kill him and put him out of his misery.
They beat him. Lashed him with a whip. Hooked electrodes to him after chaining him to the wall, and tortured him with the electricity they flayed his body with.
He was an example to the others the same as the killings were. They meant to break him, to destroy that mercy he had inside him and prove that a Breed had no soul, honor or principles.
They had failed. But in some ways, they had won as well.
“Excuse me, Alpha.” Ashley moved around him as she stepped from the small closet that held countless cooking implements.
He glanced down at her, saw her shorter nails and frowned.
“Didn’t I just send you to the damned salon?” he growled.
Her eyes widened. “I had dishes last night. A few popped off.”
“What do you mean you had dishes?”
She fidgeted in front of him and looked to Anya.
“It was Ashley’s turn to load the dishwasher and clean the pots and pans,” Anya answered.
“I have a f**king rotation for kitchen duty.” His voice was harsh, primal, causing the three female Coyotes to flinch.
Anya shrugged. “When I checked the closet, the dishes hadn’t been cleaned well. They’re soldiers, Del-Rey. Men. They don’t understand rinsing first, nor do they understand cleaning. Sharone, Emma and Ashley spent hours in here fixing it. Your rotation isn’t working.” Her head lifted. “Unless the Felines are doing it. They seem to have a clue. But I imagine Alpha Lyons wouldn’t be pleased if we used the Feline Breeds for kitchen duty only.”