24112016- RECONSTRUCTED

Word Count: 1,854

004

“We need to leave.” The words hurt me more than they should because I know it’s true. Jaron stares at me from the other side of the kitchen table, concern for me is obvious on his face. His oldest son Lukas stands at his shoulder. The twins, Mark and Henry sit on either side of me. The two youngest boys disappeared to deal with a minor dispute a few of our packmates were having over furniture with Angel. The two had dropped me off at the new house I shared with Jaron and his sons, one of my better purchases this year, and escaped the serious argument they knew was brewing.

Jaron Blake was the father that I never had, kind and encouraging, even though we shared no blood. He and his sons considered me family, a family that I was eternally grateful for. Now, Jaron held the position as Elder for my pack, and I trusted him to advise me of every situation.

“We can’t,” I say, wrapping the blanket tighter around myself trying to staunch the shivers that wracked my body. “I won’t move the pack again, everyone is just settling down.”

“If that boy finds out who you are-” Jaron starts.

“He won’t,” I promise. “I’m not going to accept him.” The words sound wrong coming out of my mouth, for a boy I’d met all of ten minutes. Around me, the Blake brother turns to stare at me
“Don’t say things like that lightly,” it’s Mark that speaks up, surprising me. He was the quieter half of twins, a few years older than me and Justin. His twin brother nodded his head enthusiastically from beside him. The two agreeing one something was a sight to be seen.

Mark and Henry might be twins, but they were polar opposites. Not just physically but their personalities clashed as well. Mark had dark hair, he’d started to dye dirty blond, that he preferred to keep short and over his eyes. He was a bit paler than Henry and lean with taunt muscles he needed for his career as a kickboxer. Henry had a shock of white-blond hair that fell past his chin that he usually kept tied back, he didn't like to shave every day so his chin almost always had a slight stubble. Henry had a louder personality, obnoxious and spontaneous while Mark was a bit quieter, but by no means the responsible one. Mark was an adrenaline junkie, he liked to do crazy stunts that got his wolf excited.

“What else can I do?” I ask, “I refuse to move the pack again, and Jaron’s right: if Jungkook finds out, we’re one step closer to being found.”

Lukas clears his throat. “Or, he’ll keep your secret because you’re mates.”

“But it’s more than just Jungkook and I. He’s alpha of a pack, they can probably already sense that their alpha’s mated. They’d have to meet me, an alpha and pack that went rogue two years ago. They’d be put into immediate danger.”

The boys are quiet for a moment.

“Then don’t be alpha,” Jaron says.

I turn to him, blinking in confusion. “Step down? For a boy?”

“No-” Jaron rolls his eyes at me, reminding me strangely of the teenager I knew he really way. “The Goddess help us if you ever stepped down. You’re already taking wolfsbane to mask your scent and your alpha traits. Just introduce yourself as a subordinate, Mark or Henry can act as your alpha for all purposes.”

It wasn’t a bad idea. Chances were that Jungkook would be disgusted with the idea of being mated to a subservient wolf shifter and I’d be able to get past this complication.

Complication. I think back to Jungkook’s beautiful concern for me, the worry, that I wasn’t used to seeing in the face of a stranger. I didn’t like thinking of him as a complication. Neither did my wolf. Nor did the idea of being rejected by him sit comfortably with me.

But it also meant that I had to do more than just mask my alpha scent and stifle my Current. It meant I had to act like I nothing more than a subordinate. And when subordinate’s mated, their mate of higher status becomes their owner. Far less rank of that of a fighter, I had to act the part of a submissive she-wolf, hanging at the words of my mate. My wolf curled her tail in annoyance, and let out a short bark of vapid disapproval.

“I need air,” I say, pushing the blanket’s off me and standing up. Once I’m upright, all my fatigue seems to fade. Strength returns to my limbs.

Jaron and his sons don’t need to ask me if I’m alright, they can sense it, but Jaron expressly fatherly worry anyways.

“Thirty minutes ago, Mark and Henry had to carry you inside. Take it easy,” his advice is half-hearted because he knows I won't bother listening to it.

“I’m fine,” I say and smile, walking to the refrigerator and grabbing the grocery li