Alpha's Regret: Losing his True Mate novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: Kerensa's Couch

Kerensa stitches her up and rages. Ada refuses to stay for the Mating Ceremony, and the Alpha arrives with a fresh thermos of tea she pours out after he goes.

Kerensa got there in six minutes, which meant she had run every light in Fernhollow.

She walked in through the garden door, saw the sofa, and said a word I had never heard her use.

"Lucan did this."

"Lucan did not do this. I tore my own stitches."

"On his sofa."

"On his sofa," I said. "Can you just drive."

She got me into her car with my duffel and three boxes and a towel pressed to my ribs.

She didn't ask whose blood was on the cushion.

Kerensa's flat was over a hardware store on Main Street, with a leaning bookcase, a cat called Colonel, and a kitchen that smelled of burnt toast.

She made me lie on the couch and went through three drawers looking for the suture kit from her old clinic job.

"I did two years of vet tech," she said, threading a needle. "I once stitched a deer."

"Did it live?"

"It left without saying thank you."

I laughed, and then I stopped, because laughing pulled the cut.

She worked quietly for a while, her tongue between her teeth, and I stared at the ceiling.

"He didn't even read it," she said finally. "I stood in that doorway and watched him not read it. I should have said something."

"You couldn't have known."

"I knew he was about to be an idiot. That I knew." She tied off a stitch. "I'm so sorry, Ada."

"It's not your fault."

"It's my brother's. Which is the same family." She sniffed hard. "Hold still."

When the last stitch was in, she wrapped me and sat back on her heels.

"Now. The dismissal. I looked at the roll on my phone in the car."

My stomach went tight. "I wrote resignation."

"I know. Here's the thing. Nobody can change a rank on the roll without a stamp. There are two stamps." She held up two fingers. "Lucan's, and Dad's."

"Lucan signed the resignation. He didn't know what it was."

"Then he didn't stamp the dismissal. He doesn't know how to use his own stamp, the clerk does it for him." She frowned at the cat. "And Dad wouldn't. Dad loves you."

I thought of the heavy hand on my shoulder.

You've earned a rest.

"Somebody did," I said.

"I'll find out who."

"Kerensa, just find out what I'm supposed to have done."

"Stay for the Mating Ceremony," she said suddenly.

I looked at her.

"It's in March, at the full moon. The Priestess does the reading, the whole pack comes. You can sit in the back and eat everything and judge Camille's dress." Her voice was wobbling. "Please. Just stay in Fernhollow."

"I'm not going to sit in a crowd and watch the man I've slept with for four years bind himself to someone else."

"Four years," she said. "I knew. I always knew."

"I know you did."

"I hate it. I hate that he's my brother."

"You can love him and hate him. I'm trying the same thing."

She put her head on my knee and we both pretended she wasn't crying.

The knock came at eight the next morning.

Kerensa opened the door in her pajamas and her whole body changed.

Corwin Sterne stood on the landing in a grey cardigan, with a paper bag from the bakery under one arm and a steel thermos in his hand.

"Ada," he said, past her shoulder. "I heard what happened. The housekeeper found the cottage."

"Dad, what are you doing here?"

"Looking after my girl." He came in without being asked, set the bag on the table, and sat down on the arm of the couch beside me.

"A rogue on the fence, a torn wound, and my son's carelessness. I'm sorry, my dear. The pack pays every bill."

"Thank you, sir."

"Good. I won't have you worrying."

He set the thermos in my hands.

"Tea. Your usual. It will settle you."

"I appreciate it."

"Drink it while it's warm."

He stayed ten minutes and ate half a croissant and told Kerensa she needed a haircut.

At the door he turned and smiled at me, and said again that the pack looked after its own.

When he had gone, Kerensa shut the door and leaned on it.

"See? Dad loves you. He's going to fix the roll."

"Probably," I said.

I carried the thermos into the kitchen and stood over the sink.

I didn't want anything from that house, not the key, not the stamp, not even the tea.

I tipped it out and watched it run down the drain.

My phone buzzed on the counter.

It was Lucan, for the first time since he had walked out of my cottage.

The text said: Where are you? The cottage is empty. Answer me.

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