We went to bed after that. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. I didn't stay that way, though. Although Clay remained perfectly still beside me, I could sense he was awake and after a quick, dreamless nap, I looked over to see him staring at the ceiling.

I lifted up onto my side. Too deep in thought to notice me, he kept staring. I glanced over him to see his right hand clenching rhythmically at his side, arm muscles pulsing under the pitted scar tissue.

"Is it bothering you?" I asked.

"Hmm?" He followed my gaze to his arm, and made a final fist, then stopped flexing. "Nah, I don't feel it anymore."

"I mean is it bothering you?"

He was silent a minute, then he brushed my hair back over my shoulder.

"I ran away tonight," he said after a moment. "When I first smelled that thing, I ran."

Protests and reassurances sprang to my lips, but I knew he wasn't looking for that.

He continued. "I remembered what it did to you the night before and all I could think about was getting you out of there."

"Which under the circumstances was the smart thing to do."

"Yeah. But the reason I ran instead of fighting?" He lifted his arm and flexed. "It doesn't affect my fighting in wolf form. It's just a slight weakness in one of my legs, easily compensated. My first instinct, though, was to second-guess myself and flee. That's not good."

"But-"

"Under the circumstances, it was the right choice, and that would be fine… if I could say I made an informed decision."

"Which is tough to do when a three-hundred-pound beast is bearing down on you." I caught his look. "Yes, I know you don't want excuses. The point is that you don't have the confidence you did four years ago. Personally, I don't think that's such a bad thing. If you're still jumping on the back of raging beasts, you have more than enough confidence for my tastes."

He went silent, his gaze returning to the ceiling.

"It's not running from that beast that's disturbing you. It's the possibility that you might do it with a mutt. If enough of them confront us, your first instinct will be to hustle me out of there. If I'm just your mate, that's not a problem-you're getting me out of harm's way. But if I'm Alpha, I shouldn't need to be shuffled off, and if it looks like you're doing that, then the implication is that there's a problem."

"Yeah."

He went quiet again. I waited, knowing I'd prodded enough.

"With my arm… it's ongoing," he said. "I'm still working it through. With you in line for Alpha, though, it highlights another issue, one I've been avoiding."

When he didn't go on, I did prompt him, but he only slid his arm under me and pulled me close.

"It's nothing. I'm tired and I'm rambling."

"If something's bugging you… "

"I'll deal with it."

I paused. "And I can't help?"

When he said nothing, the temperature in the room seemed to plummet. I shivered. He rubbed my back, but it didn't help.

Since when didn't Clay share his problems with me? Sure, we were notorious for keeping minor issues from one another, trying to solve them on our own. But now clearly something was bothering Clay and he didn't want to share it, and that only fanned the embers of my real worry-that this was what being Alpha would be like.

There was a lot Clay didn't share with Jeremy. There were aspects to protecting the Alpha and the Pack that bothered Jeremy. Like me, he wished they weren't necessary. So Clay did them without sharing the details and Jeremy never asked.

My Alphahood would not be a radical change from Jeremy's. I believed in every reform he'd instituted and I'd continue his work. Most of his leadership style I admired and would emulate. But I wanted to be more involved. I wanted to be on the front lines, as I was now, not giving orders from the rear. I wanted to know everything that went on, even the parts that bothered me.

"If it has to do with the Pack, then I need to know what the issue is and how you think it should be resolved."

He glanced over. "And if I disagree?"

"As my bodyguard? Or as my mate?"

"Both."

I waited ten seconds, resisting the urge to flip over or move away.

I could say I was respecting Clay's space and didn't want to guilt-trip him into sharing. But the truth is that pride kept me from showing I was hurt. So I settled in as if I'd already forgotten it, which I'm sure would have completely fooled him if he hadn't spent almost twenty years learning to read my moods.

"Remember that mutt who stalked you on our honeymoon?" he asked after a minute.

"The Cain kid? Tough to forget, as hard as I might try."

"Do you know why he didn't run away when I first warned him off?"

"Uh, because he's a Cain? Big family sharing one allotment of brain cells?"

"Because he didn't believe my reputation. He'd seen the photos. He insisted they were Photoshopped."

"Over thirty years ago? Kinda proves my point about the brain cells, don't you think?"

"But he's not the only one. Things have been changing. When you and I started working together, mutts ran from us the minute they figured out who I was. Then they started sticking around a little longer, maybe throwing a punch or two, testing my reputation. These days, over half the mutts in the country are younger than those photos. I'm their dad's bogeyman, not theirs. Kids like Cain don't see any reason to run until I give them one. And that was fine… until this." He lifted his arm.

"So? Even with your arm, you can take on guys like that-half your age, twice your size-and the outcome's never in question."

"But ten years ago, I wouldn't have had to take them on. I wouldn't have had to worry about Cain stalking you. The second he realized I was with you he'd have been on the next bus out of town. Now, with you becoming Alpha, the kids getting older… I don't want to keep proving I still deserve my reputation. That was the point of… "

He trailed off. The point of what? I was about to ask, when I understood. That was the point of what Clay had done at seventeen, dissecting a mutt while he was still alive, then taking pictures. I knew it wasn't as horrible as it sounded-the mutt had been anesthetized and out cold the whole time, dying before he knew what had happened. The point hadn't been torturing this particular mutt, but convincing other mutts that Clay had tortured him and that if they trespassed on Jeremy's property, he'd do the same to them.