Alpha Terrell's POV
I focused on getting Angel down from the horse without dropping her, or waking her. She was heavier than she looked - not in a bad way, just fitting and perfect for me. My hands spanned her waist easily and I managed to lift her down, cradling her against my chest. Her head lolled onto my shoulder, that maddening vanilla scent enveloping me again.
Focus, Terrell.
With my heightened hearing, I caught the murmur of voices as my generals spread the word through our small camp. I could pick out individual responses - confusion, disbelief, barely suppressed laughter.
"You're joking."
"Bellick is the Alpha? Since when?"
"This is the stupidest plan I've ever heard."
"Wait, so who's the real Alpha pretending to be?"
"A friend, apparently."
More laughter. More skepticism.
Let them doubt. They'd follow orders regardless.
I carried Angel toward a large oak tree at the edge of our makeshift camp, its thick trunk providing shelter from the wind. The ground beneath was relatively clear of rocks and roots - as good a spot as any.
I laid her down gently, arranging her torn dress to cover as much of her as possible. Even unconscious and battered, she looked vulnerable. Exposed.
Mine to protect.
The thought came unbidden, and I shoved it away violently.
"Kade!" I called out.
The young warrior jogged over, still grinning like an idiot. "Yes, Alpha?"
"Do we have any tents?"
His grin faltered. "Uh... Gareth brought his. Why?"
I gestured to Angel. "A woman here needs it. Gareth can manage on his own."
Kade's eyebrows shot up. "I'm not sure Gareth will want to forfeit his tent, Alpha. You know how he feels about mosquitoes…"
"Did I ask what Gareth wants?" My voice dropped to a dangerous pitch. "You were all supposed to retrieve my tent from the supply wagon before we left Black Claw. You failed. So now Gareth can donate his. Go. Get. It."
Kade's face went carefully blank. "Yes, Alpha. Right away."
He scurried off toward where Gareth was unsaddling his horse.
I could hear the ensuing conversation from where I stood.
"Gareth, the Alpha needs your tent."
"My tent? Why my tent?"
"For the girl."
"The girl who stabbed Bellick eighteen times?"
"That's the one."
A long pause. Then Gareth's resigned sigh. "Of course. Why wouldn't the unstable woman who just tried to kill one of us get my tent while I sleep with the mosquitoes?"
"That's the spirit!"
Gareth appeared moments later, his tent bundled under his arm, his expression somewhere between annoyed and resigned. He dropped it at my feet with more force than necessary.
I looked at the bundle, then at him. "And? Are you expecting me to set it up?"
Gareth's jaw worked. "You want me to set up my own tent? The tent I'm giving away?"
"I want you to make yourself useful, yes."
For a moment, I thought he might argue. But decades of service won out over personal comfort. He bent and started assembling the tent with sharp movements, muttering under his breath the entire time.
"...sleeping with mosquitoes tonight..."
"...some people can't be bothered to bring their own tents..."
"...eighteen stab wounds and she gets the tent..."
I crossed my arms, watching him work. "Do you have something you'd like to say to me, Gareth?"
His hands stilled for just a second. "No, Alpha."
"Good."
The muttering continued, quieter but no less pointed.
"...probably won't even appreciate it..."
"...meanwhile I'll be covered in bug bites..."
"...all because someone forgot the supply wagon..."
I bit back a smile. Gareth had been with me for decades. If he needed to voice his complaints to maintain his sanity, I could allow it. As long as he kept following orders.
The tent went up quickly - a simple structure, but sturdy enough to keep out the wind and provide some privacy. Gareth secured the final stake and stepped back, surveying his work with the same expression a man might wear while watching his prized possession being given to a stranger.
"Satisfied?" I asked.
"Thrilled beyond measure, Alpha."
Definitely sarcasm. I'd let it slide this once.
I moved to where Angel still lay unconscious, her chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. Bending down, I slid one arm under her knees and the other behind her back, lifting her as carefully as I would a child.
She weighed nothing in my arms. Or maybe my wolf made her feel lighter than she was. Either way, I cradled her against my chest as I carried her into the tent.
The space was small - just enough room for one person to sleep comfortably, maybe two if they didn't mind being close. I laid Angel on the bedroll Gareth had included, arranging her limbs so she wouldn't wake with cramped muscles.
Her face looked peaceful in sleep, the tension that had contorted her features earlier finally smoothed away. The swelling around her eye had gone down slightly.
Without thinking, my hand moved to brush that stray curl of hair from her face again.
I caught myself this time, pulling back before I made contact.
Stop it. She's not a pet to be coddled.
But she looked so small lying there. So broken.
So mine.
I grabbed the thin blanket folded at the foot of the bedroll and spread it over her, tucking it around her shoulders. Making sure she was warm. Protected.
The action felt foreign. Wrong. I didn't tuck people in. I didn't fuss over blankets and comfort.
Yet here I was, adjusting the fabric to make sure it covered her properly, my hands gentle despite their capacity for violence.
Finally satisfied, I backed out of the tent and secured the flap.
My warriors had gathered around the fire pit, several of them already working on getting a decent blaze going. They looked up as I approached, their expressions neutral.
But I could see the questions in their eyes. The confusion. The barely suppressed amusement.
Let them wonder. Let them think whatever they wanted, as long as they kept their mouths shut.
I took a seat on a fallen log, close enough to the fire to feel its warmth but I stayed far enough to maintain my usual distance from the others.
The silence stretched, broken only by the crackling of flames and the rustle of wind through leaves.
Gareth sat across from me, pointedly scratching at his arm where a mosquito had presumably already found him.
Bellick was examining his chest where Angel had stabbed him.
Kade kept glancing toward the tent, then at me, then back at the tent, clearly dying to say something but wisely keeping quiet.
They all had thoughts. They all had opinions.
None of them dared voice them.
Good.
I stared into the flames and tried not to think about the girl sleeping twenty feet away.
Tried not to think about how right she'd felt in my arms.
Tried not to think about the seven days ahead and what they might mean.
Tried not to think at all.
I failed at all three.