Six

– Nathan

I set another pot of coffee brewing and then leaned against the granite countertop, staring absently out the kitchen window. Saturdays were usually my day to attend to non-work responsibilities, and I’d had a full

slate of plans for the morning. Concentration kept slipping away like sand through my fingers, though, and I finally just gave in to my swirling thoughts.

Celeste hadn’t said no. When I’d discovered her in my library Thursday night surrounded by the Elders, I’d been certain that I knew what was going to happen. She would tell all four of us to go directly to hell and then sweep out of the house, never to so much as look in my direction

again. I wouldn’t have blamed her. I wanted to tell them all off and throw them out for ambushing her with their madness.

But she just … listened. Agreed to think about it.

Since the minute I had locked the door behind the Elders, I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. The idea stalked me, invading my thoughts at random moments. Walking by one of the guest rooms, I’d been whacked over the head by the idea that it would make a perfect nursery.

Throwing something in the back of my car, I’d been struck by how easy it would be to fit a car seat in it. I hadn’t thought my life had room in it for a child, but every time I turned around, the possibility seemed to taunt me.

For the first time since the Elders proposed the idea, I found myself actually considering the possibility of having a child with Celeste.

My eyes slid shut as old memories surfaced. I could almost feel the soft grass under my back and Celly’s warm body stretched out on top of mine, her chin propped on my chest so I could watch her laugh as we playfully mused about what a child of ours might look like. I suggested a pixie-faced little girl with my brown eyes and her honey-gold hair who looked far too innocent to be the hellion any kid of mine was likely to be. My chest squeezed at the memory of her sticking her tongue out at that, then countering with the idea of a rough-and-tumble little boy with my dark

hair and her eyes—a born heartbreaker. “It doesn’t really matter,” she’d said. “My parents will spoil them rotten, no matter what.”

Propping my elbows on the counter, I rubbed at my eyes, old grief biting hard. We were so happy back then. We had no idea we were teetering on the edge of disaster. The coffeemaker beeped, and I moved to grab a mug.

It had been a storybook romance, all heady passion and obsessive devotion wrapped up in a cloak of secrecy. She’d been barely 18 and still forbidden to date by her very protective parents. I’d been 20 and rebellious, determined to keep everything precious in my life out of the sight and grasp of my overbearing father.

All our time together was stolen between work and keeping up

appearances at home. I’d been holding down two jobs, saving up money to build a life for us. She’d been up to her ears in classes and internships, trying to rack up the skills and contacts she needed to start the custom

clothing business she dreamed of. We were going to buy a house and move in together, let everyone find out we’d taken each other as mates that way. It had felt dramatic, bold. Beautiful.

Pouring coffee into my mug, I grabbed the sugar and started to doctor it, grief turning to anger. All I’d needed was a little more time, and we might have made it. My father didn’t give it to me.

He wanted me to be the same kind of leader he was; to rule the pack with an iron fist. Our fights were massive and ugly, and the conflict cast long shadows over my precious stolen days with Celly. Things escalated all summer until finally, one day in September, he gave me an ultimatum, and I just … snapped.

Lifting my coffee to my lips, I let myself look at the memories of that day. I usually kept them under lock and key, but now … now it seemed important not to look away.

I remembered that I’d stopped shouting. Stopped talking entirely, in fact. I just walked out, my father shouting at my back. I’d gathered up

whatever I could throw in my backpack, emptied my bank account, gotten in my beat-up old car, and drove.

I drove for days, pulling off the road only to snatch a few hours’

sleep when I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer. I’d felt empty like a void had opened beneath my feet and swallowed me whole. I’d still been numb and detached when I found myself at the airport. I didn’t have a plan. I wasn’t even thinking yet, really. I just knew I needed to get as far away from my father’s influence as I could.

I bought a plane ticket to Amsterdam for no reason other than it was the first international flight available. Then I’d picked up two oversized postcards from the airport gift shop. I could still vividly recall the feel of the cheap pen in my fingers and the coarse paper under my hand as I scrawled out a short message to Celly at a loud, tiny cafe in the airport. I told her that leaving her behind felt like having my heart ripped out of my chest, but that I couldn’t stay. I didn’t know if I’d come back—if I ever could come back. It wouldn’t be until much later that I realized that in my numbness, I’d forgotten to include the only words the note really needed: I’m sorry. I love you.

I’d posted both cards—the second to Micah, with much the same message—from the airport without a return address and boarded the plane.

I took another swig of coffee, but even its robust flavor couldn’t

wash the bitterness off my tongue. Her parents had died within weeks of my leaving.

I didn’t find out until months later, when I’d found mentors who loved me the way my father didn’t and had secured a stable address. I got blindly drunk that night, knowing that I wasn’t there for her when she needed me the most and that she would never, ever take me back.

In the years that followed, I learned to be a leader. My mentors taught me how to take care of a pack and how to take no prisoners in the

corporate world. When my father’s health began to fail, I knew it was time to go home and face my demons.

The doorbell rang, and I blinked the memories away, glancing at the clock. Not quite 11 a.m. God help me if it was another message from Kurt or one of the Elders again. Pushing off the counter, I headed for the front door. My steps slowed as I approached it. The figure through the glass

couldn’t possibly be who I thought it was. I pulled the door open anyway.

“Celeste?”

She was wearing jeans and a loose blue top that slipped off one

shoulder. Her hair was swept up in a messy twist, but it was her eyes that held me captive. I knew that determined look.

“Can I talk to you?”

“Of course.” I opened the door wider, letting her in. It felt like very uncertain ground to have her here of her own initiative, and I fell back on old habits. “Would you like some coffee? I just made a new pot.”

“Sure.”

She followed me back down the hall to the kitchen, and I grabbed another mug. “Still take cream and sugar?”

“Yes, thanks.”

I poured a cup for her and topped off my own. Doctoring both our

coffees, I carried the mugs to the table in the dining nook. Celeste had taken a seat, looking uncomfortable but focused. I slid her drink to her and sat down across from her, trying to gauge the appropriate response.

Be the Alpha, I told myself. Make it easier for her. “I’m guessing you’re here to talk about Thursday?”

“Yes.” She toyed with her mug, then lifted her gaze and really looked at me for the first time since I’d returned to our pack. “I didn’t get to hear what you think about it. I mean, I heard you yell at them about it, but we didn’t talk about … what you think.”

I sipped my coffee slowly, stalling for time. I couldn’t be anything but honest with her. She deserved that. But having her this close again made it hard to think. She was wearing some kind of light perfume that mixed

with her natural scent in a heady, intoxicating way. I wanted to nuzzle her throat and breathe her in, not play pack Alpha.

Sighing, I put the mug down and ran a hand through my hair, tugging at it as if that would somehow make my thoughts line up.

“Honestly? I don’t know.” I met her eyes and fought to ignore the way my stomach clenched under her intent gaze. “I don’t think it’s fair to you, for one thing. And I hate that they’re still trying to cram my father’s wishes

down my throat instead of just admitting he was wrong and doing what’s best for the pack.”

I saw her grimace. However much she might hate me now, she’d never had any love for my father or his handling of pack business. The idea was oddly comforting. Digging into the depths of my courage, I confessed the realization I’d slowly been working toward since Thursday.

“I’d love to be a father, Celeste. I thought—I didn’t think I would get a chance after … everything that happened. But now …” I shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know. I want to, but not at your expense. I won’t be the kind of Alpha who corners my people, not for anything.”

Celeste’s eyes flickered down, away from mine. She took a slow drink of her coffee. She was stalling, too, I realized.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” she said finally. Something about her tone made my heart start to pound. “The pack—our pack is everything, Nathan.”

Hearing her say my name that way made my breath catch. My pulse was pounding, and I strained to keep my posture and expression neutral and non-threatening.

“It is,” I agreed. “That’s why I came back. In spite of … everything.”

“I know.” She nodded, gripping her mug tightly. “You’ve always meant to be our Alpha. No one else can lead us or protect us like you do.” She took a deep breath and met my eyes. “Just like no one in the pack but me can be a surrogate for you.”

I stopped breathing, everything but this moment forgotten.

“We’re adults, Nathan,” she said, swallowing hard. “What happened between us was a long time ago. We’re different people now. We have different lives and needs and …” she licked her lips, “I’m willing to put it behind us if you are.”

A piece of my heart turned to ash. I’d known she would never take me back, but to hear her say it so casually was like being stabbed. I shut the pain away, making myself view the moment through the lens of an Alpha.

Celeste should have been my mate. Losing her was a scar I’d carry for the rest of my life, but continuing to let the wound bleed served no one. She needed me to let her go, and my pack needed me to be their leader, not a heartbroken boy in a man’s body.

“I think that’s a good idea,” I made myself say, evenly.

“Right,” Celeste looked instantly relieved, her shoulders slumping with the loss of tension before she squared them again, brisk and business- like. “I’m willing to go along with this plan if you are, but I have requirements.” She dug a note pad out of her bag.

“Okay.” The response was more automatic than intentional. The moment seemed too surreal to actually be happening.

Celeste laid the note pad down beside her mug and skimmed her notes. “First, I expect this to stay professional. This is a contract, and we’re entering into it for the good of the pack. It’s not personal, and I expect us to keep our distance. You don’t get to run my life just because I’m carrying your baby.”

My heart twisted at the idea of her shouldering the burdens of

carrying our child alone. But if that was what she wanted, I couldn’t refuse it. “All right.”

“Given that the whole point of this is to stabilize the pack and your position,” she continued down her list, “you should have full custody. I

won’t ask for any legal rights, but I want your promise that I’ll get to see my child regularly.” She bit her lip, eyeing me, and then blurted, “I won’t be your mother, Nathan. I want to be involved.”

“Yes,” I said immediately, ignoring the old pain that surfaced

whenever my mother came up. “Yes—that was one of my arguments, too. About not just taking a partner to get a child. I need someone who cares.”

“I care,” she said simply.

I couldn’t help but stare, the feelings building in my chest threatening to overwhelm me. “Celeste,” I said, carefully, groping for

words. “You don’t have to do this. I never wanted you to be pressured into this. Having a child with me …”

Celeste set her jaw, and her beautiful cobalt eyes flashed. “I want to.” She lifted her chin, determination in every line of her body. “Unless you want to back out, I’ll call Gideon and tell him myself this afternoon.”

“I do—want to,” I said quickly, unable to stop the grin that spread across my face at how crazy and incredible the words sounded. “I want to have a baby with you, Celeste.”

She gave me a small smile. “Right. Well, get ready for lots of paperwork then, I guess.”

We finished our coffee, discussing a few minor incidentals—what our schedules looked like, who we wanted to know right away—and then she left. As I closed the door behind her and leaned against it, joy,

excitement, and doubt tangled in my gut.

Celeste was going to have my baby.

A dream I’d long given up for lost was going to come true. It’s for the pack, I reminded myself sternly. Not for me. The fact that it fulfills an old dream is just a coincidence. A bonus.

Walking slowly back to the kitchen, I hoped that if I told myself that often enough, I just might start believing it.