Page 29 of Forged Alliances
“He’s going to catch up later,” Finn said, tilting his head out to where Jer chatted up more than a couple of the Silver Springs ladies. He’d already whipped out the bedroom smile, and chances were Streaky had some more one-nighters in his future. Sierra smirked, leaning back in her seat. Finn started the car and peeled out, kicking up dust and leaves as he exited the clearing.
Silence descended between them, and not the familiarity she’d grown used to. This loaded kind dropped down like a lead weight.
“Finn, you’ve known me too long to play coy. What the hell’s got you all tangled up?” Sierra glanced to where he hunched forward, grip tight on the steering wheel, so unlike the easy way he usually drove this thing. She’d been in the car with him enough to know when something ate him up inside.
“This is one of those blurred lines,” he said. “There’s shit that’s my business as beta, and shit that’s your personal life. I prefer not to cross the two, but I’m sensing there’s something more going on between you and a certain alpha than you’re telling me about.” Finn glanced over quick before he exited the winding back roads and merged onto the highway. “While he doesn’t seem like a bad sort, this is involving other packs now, which makes it my problem too. I need to know what’s going on with you.”
Sierra sucked in a harsh breath. Not like she’d been conspicuous with all the time she’d been spending with Dax lately. Still, she hadn’t solidified her own decision on that let alone figured out where he stood with their whole situation. Both of them danced along the ledge, neither willing to take the plunge.
“Don’t see me digging into your will-they-won’t-they with Raven even though you’re both pack, do you?” she retorted. “Could turn the same logic around and ask you to clarify your intentions with our favorite bartender.”
“You could because she’s pack. He isn’t.” Finn gripped the wheel tighter. “Don’t make this harder than it already is, boss.”
The low thrum of Finn’s favorite electronica filtered through the speakers, the spacey trance shit he listened to most days. She’d gone to a session at his kickboxing studio and left it at one. If she’d wanted to go to a club, she would’ve stayed in Philly. His lips pressed tightly, the slight flush of irritation reaching all the way through his buzz cut and accentuating the scar that sliced through his right brow. The scar she’d given him back when they’d fought for alpha.
“Fuck me,” Sierra complained, running her fingers through her hair.
Finn snorted. “We’ve tried that tango before—didn’t work then, don’t think it would now.”
She couldn’t help the smile that rose to her face. Even though she might keep her damaged past from these guys, the Red Rock pack was her present, her future, and her home. “The mating bond cropped up. Dax and I are meant to be mates.” She wanted to gulp those words back, but they lay in the air, brazen between them. Her own feelings on the situation might be endlessly complex, but the immediate issue and Finn’s concern wasn’t.
Finn let out a low whistle. “You’re mated to one of the kitty cats? I would’ve sworn you’d find some submissive little thing or a mean motherfucker of a wolf. Never in a million years could I see you with a slick-talking feline like him.”
“I need a smoke.” Sierra flipped open the glove compartment and grabbed the emergency pack he kept there. She snagged one of the cigarettes as he passed over the lighter from his pocket. This old habit cropped up whenever she got too stressed, even though she’d made good headway on quitting most of the time. After lighting the cig, she took a deep drag before letting a stream of smoke out the window. Quick as a snap, the lull of nicotine flooded through her veins.
“So what are you planning on doing?” he asked, zooming along the highway at top speed. Strong breezes coiled through the car, threatening to tug her cigarette away.
“Damned if I know. We haven’t solidified the bond yet—both parties have to be in agreement. I mean shit, what if we did? We’re alphas of separate packs, and worse, he’s a mountain lion, so merging the packs is out of the equation. We’d have to form an alliance or something.” She tapped the spare ash out the window before taking another drag. “Just met the guy, and I’ve got one too many scars to ride off into the sunset with a stranger.”
“The guy’s a royal pain in the ass,” Finn said, one-handedly nabbing a cig from the pack and slipping it in his mouth. Sierra murmured her agreement. “However, I’ve seen you pour every ounce of yourself into leading this pack for a long time now. If you’ve met someone who can share the burden, hell, the shot at a mate most of us will never get? Don’t let fear rob you of the chance.”
“Easy for you to say,” she muttered. “When are you going to cement things with Raven?”
He blew a stream of smoke out the window as he shrugged. “Maybe never. We have fun, but she’s not my mate or anything.”
Sierra nodded, keeping her opinions to herself. Might be a bit of fun for Finn, but with the lovesick way Raven watched him, the girl was in too deep.
Finn’s dark eyes were serious for once when he glanced at her. “Whatever you choose, just know I’m backing you.”
Warmth flooded her chest like liquid sunshine at the pride and love she had for her pack, for her beta. Even though she’d spent her entire childhood feeling like no one batted in her corner, the Red Rock pack had rallied behind her, creating an unshakeable foundation that made even the toughest battles worth fighting. With Finn and the others by her side, she’d untangle this mess.
The familiar shape of the Beaver Tavern rose in the distance, and Finn slowed as he pulled off the highway and into the unpaved parking lot.
He tossed his car into park and offered a hand in her direction. “Ready to get this place ready for celebrating?”
Sierra clapped her hand over his. “Last one to the bar gets stuck doing dishes.”
* * * *
Sierra and Finn spent a couple of hours bringing in the extra shipments of Yuengling they had delivered and tossing up a few blue-and-red streamers for decoration. At last, the bar opened. Seamus manned the taps, and Jer was pulling into the parking lot with two Silver Springs girls who had driven him over. Not like that shocked anyone. New week meant the pack lawyer trolled for a new piece of arm candy. Sierra stood outside the bar, watching the dusky amber rays of late afternoon roll in.
She lifted the beer bottle to her lips and took a sip of the icy lager, savoring the sweetness before she swallowed. Her heartbeat picked up a couple of notches, and she refused to lie to herself—Dax was the reason. They’d ditched fast after his fight, before she’d gotten to swap a sentence with him, and she wanted to congratulate him by her lonesome. The talk with Finn had her juiced, giving her the courage toward that final step.
She spotted his truck along the highway, the black truck she’d driven with him in the day they’d gotten in the scuffle with his family.
He veered into the drive, sending up a spray of gravel as he screeched into a spot.
The bar door rattled, drawing her attention away from Dax’s appearance as Finn stepped out, a dishtowel slung over his right shoulder. He pulled out a cigarette and then offered the pack. Sierra nabbed one, still on her kick from earlier. They both lit up, clouds of smoke trickling out past the porch into the soaked, humid air.
Dax hopped out of his truck and shut the door behind him, the sound echoing throughout the clearing. A couple more cars crunched into the parking lot, more of the Silver Springs pack from earlier. When Dax’s blue eyes descended on her, a low growl sprang from his throat, one that echoed through the air.
“Oh fuck,” Finn swore, backing away from her. Sierra tapped the ash on her cigarette before taking another draw as she glanced back and forth between Finn and Dax. “If he’s in the middle of mating, he’s going to be a territorial, hormonal Molotov. I’m getting the hell out of the way.” Finn flicked the cigarette onto the gravel before he spun around and marched inside.
Sierra let out a low whistle. She could attest to that. If Dax had arrived with the blonde from the other day or another female packmate in his car, she couldn’t have staved the impulse to bash the woman’s skull in. Not like Finn knew what pot he stirred when he called her off for a private chat.
Dax’s storm cloud marched her way, his gaze fiery and his mouth drawn tight. With the way his shoulders tensed and his hands balled into fists, first asshole to get in his face would get the ole one-two.
Sierra stepped in front of the door, crossing her arms in front of her. Looked like she’d be that asshole.