Page 7 of The Alpha King's Mate

Spending time with my brothers, their sweet mates, and my even-sweeter niece and nephews had once been a joy. It still was but since I’d come back home, their happiness was a bittersweet reminder of what I would never have.

Pop-Tart’s little one, Dean, pulled at my beard. I hadn’t bothered to shave it off since I’d been on missions so much. Truth was, I hadn’t taken very good care of myself at all lately.

What was the point?

Maybe this beard and my bad attitude would ward Ryan off so he could find another mate. One whom he needed.

Because no one needed a homicidal lion shifter alpha whose beast had only war and bloodshed on his mind.

Not kind, giving, precious, Ryan.

I held Dean by the waist, his tiny feet balanced on my thighs. He was a strong one. His grip on my facial hair was one for the books.

“If he’s hurting you, I can take him,” Clay said. Dean shared his strawberry-blonde hair.

“Nah, he’s building his muscles. Grip strength is important.”

I sat at the table during dinner, holding different babies, while the parents hurried to shovel food into their mouths. Being a parent was hard but, from what I could tell, worth it.

“Tyrus, I want to see that intel you said you got this morning. I can head out immediately.”

Tyrus locked eyes with me. For a split second, the people around the table became silent. “Sure.” He kissed his mate and his babe, and we walked to his office. He showed me floods of text messages, the post-fire ones. They hadn’t seen it coming. The house I destroyed was apparently one of the processinghouses. Omegas were brought in. Numbered and inventoried like we did with our dry goods in the pantry.

Goddess, these were people. Beings. Living, breathing omegas.

My lion wanted to go on a killing spree. No plans. No premeditation. Just slaughter the bunch of them.

My lion had been with me all my life, but it wasn’t until lately that I found myself not recognizing the beast he and I had become.

“King, brother, is something else going on with you?”

His question snapped me out of my mental analyzing.

“No. I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

I got up and stormed to my room. I didn’t want to talk to anyone about what was bothering me. Because the true root of my pain and my animal’s erratic behavior threatened to come out at any moment.

Instead of leaving it alone, Tyrus followed me to my room and closed the door behind us. “A little privacy?” I asked.

Tyrus cleared his throat. “You’ve always been able to talk to me, King.”

“I just talked to you five minutes ago. Less than that. You were on my heels. Two, tops.”

“You know what I mean. You seem out of control.”

I slammed a drawer shut. “That’s why I’m so good at my job, Tyrus. I’m a beast out there. It’s what we all count on from me.”

“You know that’s not what I mean. If there’s something else going on, you can tell me. We’ll figure it out.”

I sighed. The truth was in my mouth, begging to be told. “I…there might be something else, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I’ll just have to thrash and grit my teeth until the feeling fades.”

“What feeling?” Tyrus crossed his arms over his chest, a wordless signal he wasn’t going anywhere until I spilled my guts. Stupid bear.

“I…” I shook my head. It would be the first time I’d said the words out loud. “Ryan is my mate.”

“Whoa. Are you sure?”

I had never been violent toward my brothers, but Tyrus was edging for an ass whipping. “Are you sure Sloan is your mate?” I barked back.