The Alpha's Melded Mate

The One Where They Profess

I was sitting in the dining room of the Alpha. The Alpha who killed my father. Steam rising from the mug and warming my face. My entire body felt numb, foreign to me. 

"Cynthia?" Neal's voice was like a soft caress against me. His hand lightly brushed over the back of mine. I could barely even feel his touch. 

My eyes focused on him. 

"Can you tell me what's on your mind?" For once he didn't have everything locked down tight and I could feel the frustration coming off him. 

Not having that same communication level he was able to maintain with all other traditional members of the pack was hard on him. I wondered if he had always felt that way or if it was a new development. 

I ran a thumb along the rim of the mug, back and forth. Finding the words felt impossible. How was I supposed to explain what I had seen? I had gotten the fast forward version of his father's life; my mother begging him and those cold eyes staring back at her. I felt sick. 

The sound of angry shouting filtered from another room in the house. The low, growling boom of his father's voice growing louder. His mother shouting for him to go back. 

A red-hot fire grew inside me as his voice drew nearer. My teeth clenched and as he rounded the corner to come into the kitchen, that angry voice booming in Neal's direction, I threw my hand out, the magic inside seeping out in force. 

The mug of tea and everything else on the table flew to the ground as I threw out a shield with little regard to anything around. 

Neal's father ran into the shield with force. 

"You witch! What do you think you are doing using your magic in my house like this against me."

"You're lucky I'm not testing my ability to smash you with it, right now," I growled at him. 

"Cynthia!" Neal grabbed my outstretched hand. 

"No!" I snapped my head to stare at Neal, not once breaking my concentration on the shield. "Do not try to stop me, right now Neal. You have no idea what I saw. He didn't just kill my father because of some stupid pack rules. He killed him out of jealousy! He could have changed the rules, but he refused. He was angry that my mother chose my father over him and sentenced him to death."

Neal turned to look at his father.

"You know that's not true, son." His father shook his head trying to dismiss me. "She's clearly hysterical."

I pushed with the shield, and Cal slipped back a foot. He growled at me; teeth barred. His fangs starting to slip out. 

Neal stepped in front of me, my outstretched arm over his shoulder. He placed a hand on each side of my face. He pulled my focus to him, looking into my eyes. 

"I can't imagine what you're going through right now. I understand you're hurt. I understand wanting him dead and gone, but we cannot do that."

"He deserves it." I wanted to sound sure, but Neal was having that effect on me. That whole I can make everything else melt away feeling. It was making it increasingly difficult to hold onto that anger. 

"He does," Neal nodded in agreement, "But if we are going to war, we are going to need all the hands we can get."

My arm was starting to shake. I still felt weak from the mind dive I had done on his father. I sighed and dropped the shield. 

Neal's father stumbled forward a couple steps. 

"Do not say a single word," Neal said to his father, not breaking eye contact with me. "It would be best if you left to gather the milites to prepare."