An idea percolated around his thoughts, exhilarating as much as befuddling: was Della’s Omega transformation invisible to everyone but him? Excitement flared to life at the base of his spine. If that was true, then she was his,truly his, as if created for him by some divine hand.
“Let’s stop here,” Silas said over his shoulder, already halfway out of his saddle as Cal’s horse pulled up to the stopping point.
Cal swung a leg out of the saddle, feeling the ache as his thighs and backside adjusted to the solid ground. Silas secured his horse near a small patch of early spring grass, grabbed his saddlebag, and jogged down a barely-visible trail.
“What’s the damn rush?” Cal muttered, going through the same process before chasing to catch up. “Hey, where’re you going?”
Silas beckoned him to follow. A short walk later, the sound of water tinkled in Cal’s ears, and the air thickened with damp humidity and a faint sulfurous sting. They popped into a clearing with a small hot spring tucked into the rocky side of a ridge. Smiling, Silas stripped off his shirt. “The secret benefit of being on patrol.” He bent to unlace his boots, groaning theatrically. “My back hurts like hell, and my head isn’t much better. I need a damn rest.”
Trees rustled in soft accompaniment to the spring’s bubbling drips as Cal took stock of the clearing. A secluded, peaceful spot, the clear pool with a dusting of rising steam skating the surface. It spanned about eight feet in diameter, plenty of room for two Alpha-sized bodies. Admittedly, he wouldn’t mind a soak himself, but they also needed to complete their assigned task and make it back before nightfall.
Cal glanced at the sun’s position, estimating the time as late afternoon. Frowning, he cleared his throat as Silas eased into the water with a dramatic sigh. “How long will it take to finish the patrol route? We got a late start and—”
“Stop bitching,” Silas said from behind closed lids, “this is the halfway point. We hang out here for a while and then head back in time for supper. We’ll do the rest of the route tomorrow.”
Creeping unease slithered into Cal’s belly. A good, solid, reliable patrol protected the settlement and everyone in it, and Silas was asking him to cut corners on the first day? Did Silas not understand the point of a patrol? That being to identify problems before they progressed to threats, to catch hostile parties unawares beforetheywere caught unawares, and to keep any danger well away from the more vulnerable members of their community. Pups, Omegas, Della... all would be in jeopardy if an unwelcome presence stole onto their lands.
Danger encroached on all sides in the AfterEnd: animals, weather, accidents, disease, violence, starvation. Every way one turned, something new lurked and waited, gauging the right moment, cultivating the precise amount of vulnerability, biding its time to strike. One small mistake, one too many overlooked warnings, and entire lives could be ruined. That scenic fresh-water stream? Half-mile upstream, a decomposing body could be poisoning the water. That abandoned house? Could be overrun by rabid raccoons. That cement bridge that easily supported one horse and rider? Could crumble like stale bread under the weight of anything more.
A cavernous pit of shame yawned open inside of him, exposing yet another hidden danger: memory. This particular hazard he’d sequestered with a thin membrane of time and distance and pure, white-knuckled suppression. A necessary barrier that made it possible for Cal to put one foot in front of the other, to keep moving through space and time, always seeking a new home for himself, a new purpose for his life. Which, after decades of scratching out a lonely existence, maybe he’d found in Morris Hill and Della.
And this moron wanted to jeopardize all of it by failing to complete the simplest of tasks. Cal ground his molars, anger roiling his guts.
“Get in,” Silas lolled his head back against the edge, clearly settling in for an extended soak. “It’s fucking amazing.”
Cal stared at his lazy guide for a long, hard minute, deciding on an approach to deal with this joker. Silas hadn’t been part of the group Cal had met in OT, so he didn’t have enough of a sense of the Alpha to gauge how best to bring him around to thecorrectperspective on their responsibilities.
Maybe he could concede to a short break and then finish the route. After a week on the road, he wouldn’t mind a chance to get clean, but they didn’t need to spend all afternoon boiling like eggs. As a conciliatory gesture, Cal toed off one boot and worked on the other. “Yeah, okay, but let’s keep it quick and try to do the full circuit at least once before we go back. If we push the horses, it shouldn’t take—”
“Nah, fuck that.” Silas lifted a shoulder, scratching his back on the rock wall. “Like I said, we’ll do it tomorrow.”
Cal smothered a snarl. He’d traveled with Pack members for the last week, and none of them shirked duties, let alone have the audacity to suggest another Alpha laze about with them. What the fuck was wrong with this Alpha?
“Listen, man,” Cal began, keeping his voice even and conversational, “I’m new here, and I don’t need anyone pissed off at me for half-assing this. How about you show me the whole route today, and then tomorrow, you can hang out here, and I’ll go by myself?”
Slits of Silas’s eyes squinted across the steaming pool. “No one’s gonna know, dude. We’ll do the whole thing tomorrow, no worries.” He scooped a handful of water and dribbled it over his face. “Besides, if Hunt finds out, we can blame Sloan for being a giant dick about the horses and making us get a late start.” His head lolled back to rest on the ledge. “Now, can you shut up? I’m trying to heal a hangover over here.”
Asshole.
Controlling his resentment, Cal lowered himself into the steaming water, shooting a glare at his companion and considering what other means of persuasion would be required to get them back on track.
An hour later, Cal had bathed, eaten, and dressed while Silas’s lazy hide only managed to relocate from the pool to the ground, where he snoozed in open defiance of Cal’s mounting impatience. Cal pushed his hands through his hair, aggravation and agitation making him itchy and restless. Stomping back along the path, he checked on the horses, who barely lifted their heads from their contented munching. They weren’t too keen on finishing patrol either.
He didn’t like it, but what to do...what to do?
He could take his horse, leave Silas, and ride back to the settlement alone. But then what? Report the situation like a child tattling to his mother? Not to mention, with Hunter occupied with Kess, Cal would likely be reporting to Colt, a prospect he didn’t relish in the slightest.
Not that he had anything in particular against the Pack’s Second, but Cal strongly suspected Colt harbored an unnamed problem with him. As tradition dictated, new Alphas joined a Pack by fighting an existing Pack member of their choice for membership. Alpha instinct spurred all of them to take on the biggest and baddest of the available options, no matter one’s size or strength or the chances of getting their jaw broken.
Having worked with Hunter the day prior when they’d rescued Kess from a drug-addled wreck of an Alpha, Cal didn’t feel like challenging him directly. But he didn’t want to choose an unimpressive, middle-of-the Pack Alpha to prove himself, either. He’d lived in the free-range world long enough to know he needed to stake his claim as someone not to be fucked with.
So that left Colt.
When it came to it, they were equally matched. Colt managed to blacken Cal’s eye and even landed a few stomach shots that winded him before Cal’s fist found Colt’s nose in a spray of blood. Afterward, they’d shaken hands, and Colt stiffly welcomed him to the Pack. Their subsequent dealings were cordial but far from friendly.
Riding back and reporting this situation to Colt held no appeal. Alternatively, he could take his horse and keep heading west, follow the ridgeline, and hope he picked his way along the border, approximating the Pack’s territory line. But he didn’t know this terrain at all. He’d grown up in the flat, dry plains of what had once been Laredo, the opposite of this lush, evergreen wilderness in every possible way. Common sense dictated he stick with a “buddy,” given his unfamiliarity with the land. Night would arrive soon enough, and to go off on his own courted disaster. Given Silas’s obvious lack of concern for Pack safety in general, if anything happened to him, Cal’d be left to die, no question. He shook his head in disgust. Some fuckingbuddySilas turned out to be.
The most obvious answer remained: march right back up to that asshole and kick his ass till he got off it and finished their job. That idea had a definite appeal. Physically, Silas had an inch or so on him but, by his own admission, wasn’t in top shape due to his hangover. Cal could easily beat him into submission. At this point, he was so worked up that he couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t kill the fucker outright.