Beaufort Creek Shifters (10 book series)
The Alpha’s Pregnant Bride Chapter 11

Troy

Skye didn't return after she disappeared.

I had a feeling she would take off if I allowed her to pass, but I didn't want to hold her hostage on the couch. It wasn't in my nature to do such a thing. She had her business, and I had mine, and being sick was very much an individual business sort of thing. Back when my pack had been alive and thriving, Elias's son would regularly shut himself up in his room to avoid being seen while sick.

Shifters could be finicky sometimes. As a child, I had been particularly temperamental, choosing isolation over socialization. My father had broken me of that habit quickly. Though I still preferred to be by myself while ill, I chose to be part of the crowd. Perhaps not entangled with the crowd, but still of it somehow.

The bathroom door had a distinct squeak on one of the hinges. That was how I knew that Skye had snuck past me and retreated to one of the bedrooms. The scent of strawberries tinted the air. Her mere presence impressed the very oxygen molecules around us. It was comforting.

Even though her disappearance was not comforting.

Anxiety returned as I tried to figure out what I had done. Was I overbearing with my care? Did she not appreciate being carried? Perhaps the bite was bothering her now. Sometimes, Skye had preferences that didn't make sense to me. And though they didn't make sense, I had no issue respecting them. I just needed to know what they were so I could treat her right.

Again, she had her business, and I wanted to respect it.

Lunch had just passed-and hers was lost to the bushes. She probably needed a nap to sleep off whatever had infected her. It could have been heat sickness, the sub she ate, or a medley of other factors. Probably stress. She had a bad habit of obsessing over her duties. I'd never met a woman who was as passionate about balancing her life as Skye.

How am I balancing mine? I reflected. She's got her field manager position and night school going on. How can I alleviate her stress?

That Oscar had been up to no good again, I knew it. She was probably fighting him off between classes. Anger boiled the blood in my veins, sending me off to the porch without a second thought and out onto the pale beige wooden boards. Heat smacked me in the face and made my skin prickle, something that always happened when I went from one extreme temperature to another.

Not much was happening in the fields here. We still needed to gather enough workers to manage the land. While most of the shifters were busy with Blake's farm, we had a few volunteers who wanted to split their time between the pack lands. We just needed a manager. Skye had come to mind, but seeing how she reacted to some challenging schoolwork made me rethink that idea.

She would be brilliant in a low-stress position. Maybe switching her here was the thing to do. I nodded at the thought. I'll talk to Blake about it. She shouldn't be working the same hours as someone who doesn't attend evening classes.

Why Jada had ever chosen Skye for such a demanding position was a wonder. I supposed it had to do with their friendship. After all, Jada knew Skye better than anybody. Many evenings were spent with either Jada here or Skye over there with a pot of tea and the latest romance novels. The two of them were inseparable. Jada probably thought Skye could handle the labor.

Yet I was seeing things much differently. Skye had gotten physically ill while thinking too hard. She practically lost it over a crying fit. Any extension of understanding seemed to make her crumble-and that simply broke my heart. I had to change that for the better. I had to make sure she had a good life here.

No matter the cost to me.

***

An entire day without Skye wasn't unusual, but an entire day without her while she was in the same house was certainly disturbing. She seemed content to stay in the spare bedroom, tinkering with something that clicked and clanged every so often. A brilliant mind like hers probably enjoyed puzzles. I had to imagine she was messing with an old clock or radio.

Once or twice, I had gone to the door to listen. I heard her steady breathing and noticed that her heartbeat was faster than usual. Sickness could do that to people. It made their blood pressure rise and irritated the rest of the body. If she had a bug, then it was probably best she was holed up in the room that we used the least of them all.

I don't mind getting sick from my mate, I thought, and then promptly halted at the mouth of the hallway.

Had I just called Skye my mate? That had never happened before. That had never even occurred to me. Out of all the things I called her-my dear, my love, my match-mate had never been part of my verbal repertoire. Previous girlfriends never came close to being considered anything other than lovers.

Something about Skye had changed me. Something about her heart. Its irregular pattern now hardly hid that simple fact. Whether she was calm or stressed didn't matter either. Her heart attracted me. Her scent, her hair, her sweetness...

I shook myself out of my thinking fit and headed for the kitchen. What kind of nonsense was my brain getting up to? Arrangements like these were good for a little while, maybe even for a long while, but never for the long-term. Skye would eventually realize she wanted more out of life and leave.

Maybe she would leave me for someone like Oscar.

He was young, fit, wickedly smart, and better for her in every way. While he clearly bothered her, I knew that she loved being challenged.

All it would take was one suitor to come along and change the playing field.

He probably hasn't seen her mark, I thought. I knew I should have bitten up higher.

My fists clenched at my sides as I stared at the tea cabinet. I hadn't opened it yet to check my options. Dinner had been sparse, made mostly of leftovers, and I was aching for something to take away my thoughts. Alcohol was a bad idea with Skye being sick. She needed something to soothe her.

If she ever decided to leave that room.

I sank into myself, skepticism rapidly devolving to mistrust. Skye might have been hiding something from me. I wasn't certain why, but I was sure that she was avoiding me at this point. Though illness did different things to different people, I knew the usual routine -and this wasn't usual.

Avoidance was the first sign of secrets.

An irritated groan escaped me before I could stop it. Tea would always help. If I couldn't soothe her, then I had to soothe myself. What kind of alpha let jealousy and suspicion get the better of him? We weren't in a war. We were hardly in any kind of battle. It was hard to shake those things when they were all I ever knew.

The motions of preparing chamomile in a pot eased my discomfort. After pouring a cup for Skye, I brought it to her room, knocked, and left it on the little table in the hallway. She would find it and drink it. Or she would leave it for me to collect later. It was up to her. I returned to the kitchen for my cup of tea and took it to the living room where I lowered myself gently into the couch. Heavenly warmth drifted from my mug and trickled into my troubled system. One sip for the worry. Two sips for the tension. Three for the rest. A sigh of relief sent me into a relaxed position. I set the tea aside and reached for the family photo album I kept under the coffee table. No one else perused it, so I kept it out of the way to bring out on sentimental evenings. Like tonight.

The pages were worn, and the corners dog-eared from use. Tanned leather the color of silky wheat hosted the appropriate wear and tear from being moved from one place to another. My mother had spent many nights pouring love into these pages. I did the same with my father when she was busy volunteering.

As my fingers drifted over the pages, I felt their love echo throughout. Visions of the past came easily with each photograph-when I'd learned to ride a bike with my cousin, the joy of graduating college, my initiation as alpha after my uncle had stepped down from his post-impressing me with their strength and sorrow.

Myrna appeared in a few. Normally, it would bother me that my mother had put my ex-girlfriend into our family album, but she had been part of my life for a long time. And my mother had loved Myrna. The two were close even after that bond had faded. And when the Gilberts invaded...

I squeezed my eyes shut, a few rogue tears getting past my steel walls.

That was enough memories for tonight.

***

Blue light glowed beyond the blinds. Morning came with it, increasing in strength until my eyes were fully open and I realized that I had fallen asleep on the couch with the album in my lap. The book was open in the center where Myrna had been photographed the most. I stared at the image of her, wondering how many times I had perused this book before I fell asleep.

How late had I stayed up? Did Skye ever come out of her room?

The absence of my mug on the coffee table told me she had collected it at some point. Next came the sound of sizzling along with the hearty smell of bacon, eggs, and toasted waffles. The scent of coffee mingled in the air, drawing me from the couch. "Sweet gods, what is that?"

"Most of us call it breakfast."

Ah, so she was willing to speak to me. That was a change from yesterday.

I offered her a smile. "You're looking well this morning, dear Skye. Practically glowing."

She dropped the spatula on the ground where it clattered and spattered oil in every direction. In a swift motion, I scooped it up, washed it off, and returned it to her hand, dried. She grinned sheepishly and bowed toward the stove.

"Sorry," she whispered to the dancing bacon, "I'm just clumsy sometimes."

"No apology needed, my love." I kissed her temple. "I'll get the plates."

Minutes later, we were going about our morning like any typical day. I gathered the plates and helped load them up when the food was done. She sprinkled extra cheese on my scrambled eggs and even more on hers. Jelly was added to the toasted waffles and a heaping serving of syrup shortly after. Once we had the table set up the way we liked it, we sat right next to each other and dug in, contented chewing sounds filling the space between us.

We never needed to speak much in the mornings. I appreciated that about Skye, considering the fact that my mornings were my grumpiest times. Most of my emotions were under control every other hour of the day-save for the mornings. Only Elias was aware of that. And perhaps Wendell had discovered it the hard way.

Otherwise, no one would be able to tell. Mostly due to my avoidance of people in the mornings.

At least until after my coffee.

I chuckled. "You know, I used to judge Isaiah for his coffee addiction." I took a hefty sip of the good stuff. "But now I can see I was being a hypocrite." "Why do you say that?"

"I just can't function without one cup a day."

She smiled down at her plate while picking apart a long strip of bacon. "Well, you can have as much as you want because I'm giving it up."

"Why would you give up coffee? I thought you liked it."

"I think tea would be better for me. Non-caffeinated."

I nodded. "I won't argue with that, dear Skye. Whatever you think is best for you."

Curiosity marched right into my mind. That was a sudden shift from yesterday. Had she spent the whole night reflecting? The tinkering I heard could have very well come from the gears turning in her brain.

"I have to ask," I proceeded gently, "why would you-?"

A loud knock cut me off. I stood from the table and went to the door but barely got there in time to let Wendell in. He appeared frantic, maybe downright frightened.

I grabbed his shoulders. "Breathe, friend. What is it?"

"I-it's just-there's a-" He huffed while struggling to regain his composure. "Troy, there's people here to see you."

"Who?"

His eyes flitted between mine. "You won't believe me until you see for yourself."