His voice is loud and dangerously close to an alpha order. “And you don't think I should be aware of that?”
I hear mine come out in the same tone. “Of course you should, and I will definitely tell you what decisions we make.”
Now hair sprouts on his cheeks, and his fangs poke out when he says, “Decisions? You and my mother are going to make decisions without my input?”
“Oh, for crying out loud, we're in public. Control yourself. We’re not going to start a war, just figure out a plan. If I have to report to you before doing anything, then you married the wrong woman.” The urge to shift is making my skin prickle with hair that wants to poke through, and I inhale deeply. “What's the point in being the prima if I have to ask permission?”
Brady's crushed his ice cream cone, and a soupy mess oozes all over his hand as he tries to clean it with a wad of napkins. He huffs and opens the car door to go throw it away. Like a little boy, he stomps through the puddles. Rain beats down on the roof of his car as if it's angry, too.
Brady rinses off in the water fountain. I watch him take deep breaths to control his urge to shift. I decide I should have told him, because if we’re going to lead the clan together, communication is important.
By the time he walks back to the car, he's calm. I am, too, and when he gets inside, I say, “I'm sorry. I didn’t think and should have told you. I'll speak to you in our heads during the meeting so you know what's going on.”
His eyes are a deep green, and his face serious when he says, “I'm sorry, too. I don't mean to be so controlling. But I do need to know what you and my mother are up to. She's another control freak, and this isn't the first time she's done something behind my back. I think I'm more mad at her than you.” He sighs and then says, “I never expected to marry an alpha.”
I mumble, knowing he can hear me quite clearly. “I never expected to be a bear. I guess we're even.”
He chuckles, and it startles me to hear his deep laugh. I turn and smile at him in an uncontrolled response. “What?”
“I always knew I would be a leader and that my commands would never be questioned. I can override my mother. But you?” He lifts my chin with his finger, and I lean toward his touch. “I'm not very good at sharing leadership, so be patient with me, okay?”
“I'll try to be more considerate and include you in things.” I reach over and move a lock of wet hair out of his face, letting my finger linger on his skin.
Brady takes my hand and kisses my palm. “It's in my genes to protect you and our babies, and thinking you might be in danger makes me want to keep you locked up at home. Not that I ever would, but please remember that before you and Donna go off and challenge the Veilleux.”
I twine my fingers into his. “I will. But you need to do the same for me. Our babies need a father.”
Just before his lips brush mine, he whispers, “Done.”
40
Chapter 10
Carly
When we told Donna I was Marion's daughter, I thought she might wet her pants with excitement—first because she wished she could see Richard's face when he finds out a Robichaux is married to a lowly Le Roux and second because this will help our clans form a bond to stand strong against the Veilleux.
The focus of our lunch meeting today won't be what to do about Victor's attempt at mate rape on Sierra. Patricia isn't going to be receptive to an attack on her son, so we'll be approaching the subject as part of the discussion about interclan marriages.
We hug the curves of a back road as Donna speeds along toward lunch. Her black BMW makes me appreciate the handling of a car designed to make driving an experience, and the leather is smooth under my fingers as I grip the door handle when she flies around a hairpin turn. I should be nervous, but bears have impressive reflexes, and I know I’m safe.
She asks, “Carly, dear. Have you given any thought to the color of the nursery?”
“Not yet. Decorating isn't really my thing, so I thought I'd let Annie help me.” Rain races off the windshield in tiny rivers as the wind blows it, and the rush of splashing water sounds as a car passes by on the other side of the road.
Donna's simple French-twist hairdo makes her look a bit severe, and I think she should have pulled a few curly tendrils out to soften her face. She says, “I think it's sweet how much you're involving Annie in your pregnancy. She would have been a fantastic mother, and I know she's touched you want her to be the next best thing for your children.”
I pull on the hem of the linen dress Donna insisted I wear, and the fabric seems to wrinkle at my touch. Apparently this is a formal meeting, and I'm uncomfortable in the outfit Annie helped me buy. “She’s like the sister I never had. I'm grateful she wants to help.”