The Possessive Alpha
Chapter 82

TIBERIUS POV

*****FLASHBACK CONTINUED******

***Six Months After the rejection and death of his mate. Cynthia’s Arrival at Silver Run****

Everything seems darker now that Claire is dead, Acheron and I’s guilt starting to gnaw away at us like a pet dog chews a bone, slowly withering it away to nothing. The guilt we didn’t think we’d feel is starting to make living unbearable. Anger consumes every waking moment, from those in my pack ashamed of my actions to my own that seem to fill me to the brink. No matter how many hours I spend in the gym working away my aggression, it never seems to wane, staying just underneath the surface, starting to concern those around me.

If I am not taking care of pack responsibilities, I am in the gym or on the training field. Today is one of those where I will be in front of a punching bag until the last possible second. I must work through the rage brewing all morning before showing Cynthia around the town square.

I know they can see it in my pupils; the unhinged and feral tantrum waiting to detonate. Even my mother is terrified of me, giving me the same look she used to give my father when he had been too calm for the day. She would walk around on eggshells waiting for the other shoe to drop when he would finally snap and make our lives hell again.

While everyone has the right to reject their mate, not many do, even with the potential to end up in a toxic relationship. My mother is a prime example of that; my father was a real piece of s**t. As I strike at the punching bag with my full force, memories of his awful behavior come back in waves, adding fuel to the flames and has me railing at the unsuspecting mass, swinging more with each powerful blow.

My father always found new and exciting ways to mentally torment my mother until the bastard was dumb enough to kill himself accidentally. He played one of his sick little mind games while drunk; after beating her bloody and leaving her in a pile on the floor, he became inconsolable. He was crying incoherently about how unworthy he was. It was a frequent enough occurrence, always after one of his rages, that I paid his rambling no mind.

Noticing he was being ignored, he grabbed the rope hanging inside the coat closet, which he kept for this specific game. A noose is knotted at the end. Leaving out the front door into the rain thundering through the cloud. Not caring that he left, I attended to mother, taking one of the clean washcloths to wipe the b***d from her cuts and bruises while she winced uncomfortably. I may have only been eleven then, but I had already grown accustomed to our weekly routine, making quick, efficient work of the task.

I had no idea where my father went; I just knew I wasn’t going to look for him, remembering what happened the first few times I did. I would find the noose around his neck while he made it look like he had killed himself. The first time I saw him, my sobs shook the whole forest. My body heaved gigantic sobs until he straightened himself, laughing hysterically and mocking me the entire way home. He always came back, but that time, he didn’t. Two days later, I found his body hanging in the tree; his feet barely lifted from the ground. It seems he slipped on the rainy, wet earth, the ground slanted enough that he must have been standing on his tippy toes.

My mother remained unconscious as her body tried to recover from her mate’s beating and death. A scream of frustration leaves my lips as I start throwing kicks at the back, wishing it was my father and finally getting to punish him for all the different ways he ruined my life.

No, the mate bond is not worth the trouble, is all I can think about as my temper starts to cool. My father proved that, and so did my mate by her betrayals. Acting like another slut wanting to climb ranks and not caring about how her actions will affect her mate. No, I am better off without that selfish b***h is the mantra I keep repeating to myself as my fists pummel into the punching bag repeatedly, making the ceiling shake.

“The pack Crescent Sun Alpha will be here shortly,” Alaric’s icy tone comes from behind me, “Father requests that you get ready for their arrival. You’re meant to entertain the Alpha’s younger sister. Apparently, you knew each other as children?”

I don’t like the curiosity in his voice over Cynthia; there is a tone to his words that makes Acheron bristle internally. While he never met her in person, he could still watch her actions toward me as a child and had grown quite fond and slightly possessive of her.

“Yeah, and he knew you’d try to f**k her,” I growl as my fist lands on the punching bag, finally breaking it down. I can feel Acheron itching to get out and beat the living s**t out of this pompous Alpha a*****e, but I reign him in, thinking of Cynthia being here soon and not wanting to ruin any chances of spending time with her. Now that the bag is down, I have nothing left but gather my s**t and leave, with Alaric trailing behind me with this mundane conversation.

“I haven’t slept with anyone in months,” he retorts, a sourness in his words, an implication of the incident outside the library.

“Claire had what was coming to her,” I growl, not liking that he dares to remind me of that day. “Why are you here, Alaric? I haven’t talked to you since that day.”

“Because father asked me to,” he said, trailing off, but I could tell there was an underlying thing to that. Edwin knows we hate each other, and he wouldn’t put us in the same room, especially after…the library. No, there is more to his appearance here.

“Bullshit,” I growl as my feet take the stairs two at a time, praying I can get away from him quicker. Quickening my pace until we are outside our bedroom doors.

“Fine,” he mutters, “I came down here to see if you felt guilty about how you acted, but it seems you don’t.” His words cause my already tenuous hold on my rage to slip through my fingers, Acheron pushing through, my eyes pitch black, but Alaric doesn’t flinch, standing still as his eyes bore into mine.

“Do you feel guilty sleeping with whatever she-wolf you want without considering how it will impact her future mateship?” I ask him, my words causing him to wince, stepping back in submission. He knows what I am saying is the truth, and watching him sputter and try to justify his actions is satisfying.

“I didn’t think so,” I sneer, a smirk on my face, “now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get ready for our guests.” Without letting him say another word, I turn and enter my room for a quick shower and a change of clothes.

**************************

Three hours later, Cynthia and I are sitting overlooking the valley Silver Run sits in while we sit on the lookout on the mountain that the pack lays against. Her angelic laughter ringing through the trees is the most peaceful sound I have heard in months. Acheron hasn’t been this calm in months, the anger I had been holding onto for the last few months slipping away into nothing.

As our feet dangle over the edge, like we are still children, I cannot dismiss how natural and easy this seems. As Cynthia tells me, some of the highlights of her last few years, a smile never leaves her face, and it’s infectious, causing one to take over my face too.

“How about you?” She asks, turning her head to look me in the eyes, and I swear my heart drops into my stomach from her beauty. The sun made her body glow, and her hair looked like fire underneath the mid-afternoon sun.

As if they have a mind of their own, I reach over and tuck a strand of her hair behind ear entire body buzzing. Cynthia doesn’t move, keeping eyes trained on my face, as I slip my hand behind her head, cupping it gently before leaning down to brush my lips against hers lightly. When she doesn’t pull away, I take it as my cue that I have permission to continue.

With more urgency, I return my lips to hers, my tongue begging for entrance kissing her passionately and fiercely, her hands balling my shirt into a fist while she holds me closer. Even though I have never done this before, a primal instinct comes over me as I lay her back on the overlook floor, leaning over her. As if her lips are the only sustenance I have had in days.

Our tongues meld together wildly while her arms wrap around my neck, pulling me closer to her body. An appreciative growl leaves my lips as her h**s grind on me in excitement. My hand, already resting on her h*p, drew a circle on the bare skin of her waist. I am just about to slip my hand further up her side when she gently pushes me away, her cheeks flushed and her breathing shallow.

“I am sorry,” she mumbles, sitting up and dusting the dirt off her shoulders, “we probably shouldn’t be doing that. We both have mates waiting for us.” Her words reconfirmed everything I had already thought about her. She will make a fantastic mate.

“My mate is dead,” I rumble, looking away from her, not wanting to talk or think about Claire here.

“Tibs!” She says, wrapping me in a hug, the warmth of her body thawing my cold soul. For the first time in months, I feel like my old self, and so does my wolf. Alaric gets everything, the perfect father and a pack. A rank that is his by birthright, not given to him out of pity, like my Edwin making me a Gamma; no one in the pack respects it. Alaric gets all those things but not Cynthia; he’ll never get her, making managing each day easier.

“I am okay, Cynnie,” I whisper, inhaling her scent as I bury my nose in her hair, “I have been managing, and your letters help me make it through each day.” Looking into her emerald green eyes as I brush away a spare lash from her cheek.

“Promise me you’ll talk to me if it becomes too much to bear by yourself?” she asks, gentleness in her words, her face full of worry, as she studies me for the truth of how I am doing. Cynthia could always read my emotions better than anyone.

“I promise,” I confirm, easing her worries, standing up, and reaching my hand out to help her stand. “I am glad I finally get to see you after all these years. It’s like no time has changed at all.” I say in my lame attempt to change the subject once more.

“Who knows, maybe you’ll find a worthy chosen mate,” she says, showering me with one of her infectious smiles, “or even the Goddess might gift you with a second chance mate.”

“Maybe,” I say, no longer wishing to talk about this. “We should get back to the packhouse dinner will be soon.” Taking her hand in mine, we start the twenty-five-minute journey back, the conversation flowing easily as we walk through the middle of town.

Once we get close to the pack house, she drops my hand, giving me an apologetic look, but I know why she did it. Her overprotective older brother, Daniel, would kick my a*s. Taking the walkway to the house, we follow it back to where the rest of the upper-ranked family sits and Daniel. Alaric and his cronies are the only ones missing, which makes me thankful for a minute. It’s more time I can avoid introducing him to Cynthia.

Sitting next to my mother, I watch with pride as Cynthia walks through the room with grace and wit, laughing at others’ jokes. Her entire aura radiates confidence as she laughs openly with the Alpha, my stepfather, and his two best friends. She feels right here, like she belongs and is born to be here.

Nothing about this day can go wrong until Alaric’s large frame storms into the backyard. His eyes are frantic, his nose raised in the air, searching for something. Until he steps in front of Cynthia, their eyes are meeting, and an electric current is swirling between them. After thirty seconds of staring at each other, the last words I want to hear come out of their mouths.

“Mate.”

Who knew that one simple word could keep shattering my soul to pieces?