Page 73 of The Delta’s Rogue (Crescent Lake #4)

I freeze and glare at him, waving away his comparison. “He laughed at that. I don’t think he’d laugh if he knew…” I rub my jaw and cover my mouth, my thoughts roaming to every naughty, sinful interaction I experienced with Sarina within the walls of that club. “Oh fuck, if he knew…”

“I still can’t believe you own a sex club.”

“Sex clubs. As in, more than one,” I correct him. “And I co-own them.”

He chuckles, his shoulders shaking with soft laughter. “I have a lot of questions. They can wait”—he lifts his hand before I can say anything—“but I expect full details when all this is over.”

I huff out a half-laugh. “Deal.”

We descend into silence, both of our smiles fading. I drum my fingers on the counter and look everywhere except at Reid. His attention stays on me, and I can hear the wheels turning in his mind and feel him working to piece everything together.

“What are you really more upset about?” He lowers his voice. “That she lied to you about knowing you were her mate, or that being her mate means you’re the future king?”

My jaw ticks as I close my eyes, and my finger movements stop mid-drum.

“Well, that answers that,” Reid mumbles.

I growl and turn away from him, my hands flexing and relaxing against the cool countertop.

Reid sighs. “What’s so awful about being the king? Why are you so against it? And don’t you dare try to tell me it’s because you’d have to leave Crescent Lake because I know you were planning on leaving with her already.”

“How—”

“Wesley told Nolan and me while you were on your tant-run. And I saw the bags in your room when Taryn and I grabbed clothes for you last night.”

“My instincts…” I explain. “They’re different. Darker.”

“Is this supposed to surprise me? I’ve heard—in minimal detail to protect my weak stomach, mind you—of the torture methods you’ve concocted.”

“It’s not just my ability to think up the methods.

It’s that I enjoy it. I crave it. Passing out punishments, doling out death—it satisfies every urge within me.

There is this darkness lurking within me, Reid.

A darkness I’ve hidden for a long time. A darkness I wish I could unleash and keep at the surface so everyone would know exactly what I’m capable of. ”

As I speak, I slowly let that darkness loose, let it mix with my aura. As it seeps into my cells and my strength, I relax. The omnipresent tension I’m accustomed to fades from all my muscles.

My lycan stretches and rolls his neck in a circle, practically moaning in delight at the rare release of the darkness we both crave.

“I’m terrified of what I’d do if I was an alpha. That’s why I’ve never wanted my own pack. That’s why I’m content to stay as the delta, as our head warrior, instead of taking on a higher-ranking position. ”

I meet his eyes, holding eye contact with him as my dark aura fills the room. His chin lowers when the aura passes over him, but he doesn’t flinch or shudder or cower. He just offers me his deference, his respect.

“Did it ever occur to you that you have these instincts because you were meant to be the king? So you can protect your mate, our queen? So you can protect all of us?”

“I don’t want to be king,” I choke out.

“And your lycan? Does he feel the same way? Because, in my experience, if your wolf doesn’t agree with your idea, it’s usually because it’s a bad one.”

My nostrils flare.

My lycan continues to revel in the darkness swirling within me. He’s blocked me from his instincts on our new rank. He’s made his feelings on how I reacted to Sarina very clear, but he’s left me floundering with this recent development, left me to fend for myself.

Bastard.

“And,” Reid continues, “it’s not like you’ll actually be the alpha. King Malachi said Sarina will be alpha. You’ll be…” He glances at me as he fights to contain his glee. “You’ll be her luna.”

I stare at him. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

His lips twitch, and he nods, ignoring my denial. “Luna Sebastian.”

I sigh.

I see what he’s doing. He’s trying to lighten the mood, to distract me from my thunderstorm rage. He’s doing for me what I did for him.

“You heard her dad. She’ll be the queen, and I’ll be the king. I don’t want it,” I reiterate.

“So, you’re going to reject her?”

My aura pulses, tightening around Reid. “Excuse me?”

“If you don’t want to be our king, then you’ll have to reject her. Unless you ask her to give up her title.”

“She’s trained for this her whole life. I can’t ask her to do that.”

He shrugs. “Then I guess you’ll be rejecting her.”

I growl and snarl, and slam my fist against the counter, holding myself back from strangling Reid for even suggesting I get rid of her like she means absolutely nothing to me.

My lycan lunges against the barrier of my mind, jaws snapping at Reid, fueling my aura to expand until it fills the entire house .

“Which would be worse: ruling over all the packs with the female you love, or rejecting her and losing her forever?” Reid crosses the kitchen and claps his hand on my shoulder.

He keeps his head lowered, mindful of my volatility, but he gives me a subtle, reassuring squeeze. “She needs you, Seb. And you need her.”

I exhale and rein in my aura. His words, his questions and reassurances, all bounce around in my mind, echoing and dancing. Some are louder than others, but they all repeat incessantly in my brain, like a broken record playing our conversation back to me.

There’s so much to think about. So much to consider.

And there isn’t much time for me to bring myself back to a levelheaded place. Not with the threat of the traffickers still looming over us. Not when we need to find their headquarters, and craft a plan to take them out and rescue any girls they still have in their clutches.

I shove off the counter and exit the kitchen, heading straight to the boxes of pizza on the coffee table in the living room.

Food first. Then a shower, so I can clear my mind and organize my thoughts. My words. Once I know what I want to say and how I want to say it, I’ll talk to Sarina.

I snag an entire box, not bothering to see what type of pizza is inside, and turn to leave. I pause, though, my eyes catching on a plate piled high with homemade chocolate chip cookies. I smile, adjust my grip on the pizza box, and take three of the cookies.

Reid frowns at me and crosses his arms as I straighten.

“Why are you glaring at me?” I ask.

“Those cookies are for Sour Patch.”

I arch a brow and flick my eyes to the mile-high stack. “You made all these cookies for your ten-month-old?”

He grinds his teeth together and shifts his weight between his feet. “Okay, fine. One cookie is for her. The rest are for me.”

I grin in triumph, grab a fourth cookie, and head out of the room, our friends’ laughter trailing after me.

A phone buzzes, but I continue on my way. I have too much to do, too much to think about, to concern myself with anything happening with the others right now.

“Seb, wait!” Wesley yells.

I groan but stop in my tracks, and face him .

He holds the phone out to me. “It’s Forrest.”

I frown at the phone in response. “He called you?”

“He tried to call you a bunch of times, but you didn’t answer, so he called me.”

“I don’t know where my phone is.” I glance around the foyer, and then towards the guest rooms and the living room. “I left it at the rental house before we went to the auction last night. I don’t know if Nolan grabbed it or…”

Wes raises his brow at me and shakes the phone.

“Right. Sorry.”

I glance between the pizza box in one hand and the cookies in the other. Wes rolls his eyes and lifts the phone to my ear for me.

“Forrest? It’s Sebastian.”

“Oh, thank fuck.” Forrest sighs. “Some woman named Amara called the club. She said she needs to meet with you. Urgently.”