Chapter 447

Mark walks down the hall with a heavy heart, his hands sunk deep in his pockets, a scowl across his lips. God, he just…can’t seem to do anything right, can he?

He regrets it, of course. Immediately he regretted it, treating Rafe’s news so lightly, laughing about it, not paying attention enough to realize that the door was open, not realizing – truly – the gravity of the situation. He’s devastated at the effect on his brother but Maryam – seeing her face…

Truly, he acted horribly to the girl who should one day be his sister-in-law. Of course the news was hard on her – a human who doesn’t even feel bonds, can’t possibly understand them. She deserved to have the news broken to her in a much gentler way – or, even better, to have Rafe…fucking befriend her first.

Mark’s father and mother had explained all of this to him in both angry and gentle terms, but he’d understood it all from the start.

That he fucked up and it really hurt a lot of people.

God, he’s always been…such a fuck up. When will he learn?

Mark sighs as he continues to wander through the hall, wanting to head outside, to run as his wolf in some of the parkland very close to the palace. But his mom told him not too – told him it’s too late, and though things are better in the war that it’s too dangerous for him to go out all alone. So, Mark wanders the halls of the palace instead, restless, needing the movement to settle his wolf, who likewise paces in his soul.

But even as Mark winds his way endlessly through the halls, his mind turns to his siblings. All of whom just seemed…

…well, to have grown up without him.

“When the fuck did that happen?” Mark murmurs, shaking his head. Less than a year ago they’d all been kids, but now Ariel and Rafe are both mated…Ariel three times, and now she has Jackson’s mark, which means he has a new brother?

And Juniper, trial that she is, is off in some Underworld somewhere battling with some kind of God of Death for…the future of all souls?

What – why had he been left behind? Why did everyone else’s adult life start, and he’s just here…still a kid?

Mark sighs, shaking his head, wondering. Because that’s what everyone has been saying to and about him – his dad, and Jesse, and uncle Roger. That he needs to grow up – that it’s time to man up and step into his responsibility. And it’s not that Mark doesn’t want to do that, just…

Well, how does one do that?

“Oh!”

A surprised voice sounds down the hall and Mark stops in his tracks, lifting his head quickly up. Because…who the hell is awake, and in this relatively abandon part of the palace’s guest halls?

Mark’s eyes widen when he sees a very pregnant young woman at the end of the hall, her hands pressed tight to her stomach, her bare feet stilling in what looks like a repetitive trek back and forth on the hall carpet.

But Mark continues to just stare at her in surprise. Not because of her presence any longer, or the strange fact that she’s alone in the hall in the middle of the night –

No Mark’s shock is because she’s…

She’s so pretty.

His wolf suddenly goes wild in his soul, breaking into a reckless sprint, a garbled howl breaking from his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” the girl says, taking a step back towards her door. “I – I’m very uncomfortable,” she says, glancing down towards her stomach, “and my Alpha is sleeping, and I didn’t want to wake him, and…”

But suddenly she goes still too, her own beautiful eyes flashing wide as she stares back at Mark.

Mark’s wolf, wild and out of control in a way that he so rarely is these days, bites him hard, urging him viciously forward, and Mark takes a few stumbling steps towards the young woman, his eyes flashing hungrily over her, taking in every inch of her very fine robe, her silky hair braided demurely back, the soft curve of her cheek – such a creamy white, just barely flushed with pink –

And then her scent hits him, all pomegranate and ginger and autumn air, and Mark clenches his jaw against the moan that rises in his throat.

The girl’s eyes flash wider if that’s possible and she steps back and away, pressing herself against her door, her hand fumbling for the handle. Mark gasps, desperate for her to stay, doing his very best to reign his wolf back in –

But she gasps, and finds the handle, and quickly turns it and rushes inside, slamming the door shut behind her.

Mark cries out, just slightly, as his wolf howls and scratches and begs him to go forward, to grab the door, to push it open, to find her, to grab her into his arms –

Mate mate mate mate mate – he snarls again and again, over and over in Mark’s mind.

And Mark groans, because he knows – he knows his wolf does this, that he lets his impulses take control, and that he – Mark – knows better. Knows that this poor girl – she’s just afraid. But -

God, who is she?

Who – whose baby is she carrying!?

Should be our baby, his wolf snarls, angry now. Go kill him, whoever took her, whoever took our Luna, it will be our baby – we will kill him, and then she will be ours –

Mark groans, putting his head in his hands, digging his fingers into his hair.

And then he does the only thing that he can think of – the only thing that works when his wolf takes over like this, and he shifts.

Shifts into his wolf and then runs, runs as far and as fast as he can, letting the exercise wear his wolf down.

Mark runs through the mostly silent halls of the palace, mentally begging his mother’s forgiveness as he disobeys her and dashes through the doors, past the guards who shout after him, out into the parkland beyond.

And the entire time – with every footfall – his mind turns over the same word.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Because there’s only so far and so fast that Mark can run before his life catches up to him. And right now, he has no idea how the hell he’s going to face it.

“All right, big boy,” Jesse says, laughing and giving Rafe a shove into his room. “You go sleep this off. We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

Jackson and Ariel call their little goodnights as they continue down the hall, Jackson carrying the exhausted Ariel in his arms, her head on his shoulder. Jesse gives them a passive wave, his eyes still on the probably-too-drunk crown prince.

“Whattam I gonna do, Jess,” Rafe murmurs, turning and slumping in the door frame, not yet ready to turn towards his bed.

“We spent all night talking about that, cuz,” Jesse says, grinning at Rafe and giving him a friendly pat on the cheek. Indeed, the five of them had spent hours going over possibilities, coming up with a plan for how Rafe can talk Maryam down and get to know her more. “You’ll remember tomorrow. Just…go lay down. You need to rest.”

“Can’t rest,” Rafe sighs, petulant, his head dropping dramatically to the side. “She’s upset. I can’t rest when she’s upset. I should go…find her.”

“You are…not precisely the most eligible suitor right now,” Jesse laughs. “Trust me, you don’t want her to see you like this.”

Rafe snarls, lifting his head up to glare. “Ima prince,” he mutters. “And I’m…cute. I’m eligab…eligible. Plenty eligible.”

Jesse bursts out laughing and gives Rafe a shove. “You’re a mess, not a prince. Go!”

Rafe finally takes the advice and stands, turning towards the bed. “You sleeping over?” he mutters, gesturing towards the other bed in the room, the one Jesse has slept in thousands of nights.

“Nah,” Jesse says, slipping his hands into his pockets, glancing at the clock on the wall. Shit, when did it get that late? “Got something to do.”

Rafe gives Jesse a look like he’s crazy even as he flops into his bed. “You don’t have anything to do. Go to bed.”

“Oh, don’t I wish that were true,” Jesse sighs. But then he blows his cousin a kiss, making him laugh, and pulls the door shut behind him. Then, heaving another sigh, he turns on his heel and strides out of the family apartments, through the halls, up the stairs, and out onto the roof.

The pilot standing by the helicopter shakes his head at Jesse, giving him a sour look. “You’re late. Two hours late.”

“Sorry,” Jesse says, nodding to the pilot, genuinely meaning it. “Things…got complicated downstairs.”

The pilot smirks at him, shaking his head, aware enough of the Sinclair family’s penchant for drama that he’s fairly unphased by this. “You still want to go? It will be late in the morning by the time you get back if you still want to do a round trip.”

“Yeah, let’s go,” Jesse says with a sigh, his wolf singing in his soul in desperation to get going.

The pilot nods and starts to climb into the tiny two-man helicopter, gesturing with this thumb for Jesse to take the co-pilot seat.

“All right,” the pilot says, putting on his headphones and pressing the buttons that start the chopper’s blades spinning. “One round-trip ticket to Alpha Academy, coming right up.”