Page 12 of Fae Devoted (Fae Touched #3)

“Before his bond was broken? By whom?” Even an ingestion of powerful Dádhe blood wouldn’t take precedence over Clan ties. “I don’t understand.”

His broad shoulders tensed, firm jaw working as though he were grinding pebbles between his teeth.

Johnnie stepped out of his arms, flattening a hand over the soft cotton of his t-shirt. “You can’t tell me who magically tainted your brother or how, can you?”

He shook his head, regret in his eyes. “I have to find him before it’s too late, Jo.”

“You will. I know you will. If Jeremiah’s in the ESC, then Samuel won’t allow him to go feral.

” Traitor or tainted, it wouldn’t matter.

Her Alpha would bind Jeremiah to Clan Walker for his beta’s sake alone.

“You probably can’t tell me how his former príoh failed to notice one of his Alphas had joined the knights either? ”

“No.”

“Who is he, by the way?”

Tell me where you were born.

He lifted her fingers from his chest to his nose and inhaled as though seeking comfort and assurance in her scent—and avoiding the question.

Johnnie ducked her head, pushing one side of her hair behind her ear. “Surely the name of Jeremiah’s príoh isn’t a secret?”

Silence.

Johnnie bit her tongue, testing the theory that patience was a virtue. So far, it appeared highly overrated, but she wanted Jacob to tell her about his past because he wanted her to know—to understand why he was leaving—not because she badgered him into it.

“Dugan McCoy,” he said with a reluctance that caused the hairs on her nape to lift with foreboding.

“So, you’re originally from the West South Central Region.

” Johnnie hadn’t heard of the Tucker Pack, but that wasn’t surprising as there were thousands of packs spread throughout the country, some with as few as a half-dozen members and all named after their individual Alphas.

Príoh McCoy’s domain included the States of Oklahoma, Arkansas, Louisiana, and Texas. “You’re from Texas, aren’t you?”

It was a guess, but Jacob’s accent was somewhat sharper than their local Southern drawl.

He nodded and took a step back, releasing her hand. His head twisted toward the apartment’s picture window and the river beyond, mind seemingly a million miles away.

Johnnie waited, staring at his handsome profile. She watched his throat bob as he swallowed hard, and ice slithered down her spine. Maybe she didn’t want to know after all.

“The Grayson Pack.”

Grayson?

She reached behind her and gripped the edge of the counter. “Your name isn’t Tucker?”

“It’s my middle name. I was born Jacob Tucker Grayson.”

Johnnie closed her eyes. It hurt. It hurt to know he hadn’t entrusted her with something as basic as his real name.

“First Abby, and now you,” she said in disbelief.

“Jo—”

“Who else knows?”

“Not many.”

“Alpha Walker?”

“Yeah,” he said on a slow exhale.

“Sorry, that was a stupid question.” She wasn’t thinking straight, her mind spinning. Of course, Jacob would have told Samuel. He was his Alpha.

“Why?” For a moment, anger overrode the hurt.

Abby lied about her identity to protect herself from recapture and the Na’fhuil race from potential discovery.

Johnnie understood her caution, not the slightest bit angry with her new friend for concealing the truth.

She considered it an honor to have gained even a portion of Abby’s trust in the end.

But what was Jacob’s excuse for keeping her in the dark and shutting her out of such an integral part of his life?

“I was the Grayson Pack’s beta, and I severed the bond with my Alpha. Less than a year later, I accepted Samuel’s offer to play an identical role. My actions insinuated I lost faith in my brother’s ability to lead our pack…to lead me.”

“You dropped your surname to save Jeremiah’s pride.” And allowed his new clanmates—allowed her and everyone else—to draw their own conclusions about his outcast past.

“I didn’t tell anyone.”

“I’m not just anyone. I thought I was…” She heard the uncharacteristic sharp tone in her voice but couldn’t seem to curtail it. “Who else did you tell?”

“Dammit, Jo. Listen—”

“Who else?” She ignored the scent of Jacob’s sorrow, her heart too bruised to care, her own pain too raw.

“Queen Rose and the prince.” He ran a palm over his short-clipped hair. “Carter Jenkins…Reed.”

“Sarah or James?”

“Both, but—”

“Stop talking.” Johnnie never imagined uttering those two words to Jacob.

It was ironic really. Although she thought he opened up with her more than anyone else, she still had to coax and tease the taciturn beta into speaking more than a few short phrases at a time.

Yet the deep, dulcet notes that once made her flesh tingle, now scratched like sandpaper against her skin.

“I’ll get these ready for you.” Her tone was wooden as she turned and started packing the cookies again, her fingers clumsy. “If you don’t want them, I’m sure someone on the team going with you to find Jeremiah will enjoy them.”

“I should have told you sooner.”

Johnnie snapped the lid on the molasses cookies closed, then went to the refrigerator to pull the frozen batches from the freezer drawer. Schooling her features, she shoved the cold zip-lock bags and full container into Jacob’s stomach and let go. He caught them before they fell to the floor.

Jacob was still standing in the kitchen with the cookies pressed against his chest when she opened the door.

“I hope you find Jeremiah.” Her voice wobbled, and she blinked several times in rapid succession before trusting herself enough to say, “Good hunting, Jacob.”

He sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. “Jo, I never meant to—”

“Be safe,” she interrupted again, holding on to her composure by a fragile thread. He needed to leave—now.

Jacob walked towards her as if every muscle in his body were stiff and sore. Halting in front of her, he placed a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll miss you, Jo.”

“Goodbye, Jacob.” Johnnie’s hand tensed on the knob, but she managed to close the door behind him before the first tear fell.