Page 17 of The Alpha's Protective Mate

My hand tightens on the fridge door handle.

I have to get to the bottom of this situation.

While we still may be able to control it.

******

I’m feeling more energetic by the next morning, most of the wolfsbane having left my system. Since I have quite a lot of work to catch up on, I head into the office early. It’s close to six in the morning as I pull the car into the vacant parking lot. The streets are still empty, so when I hear the soft groan, I look over my shoulder and see a familiar-looking woman carrying a trash bin out of the coffee shop across the road.

I find myself staring at the wild red curls that frame a soft face with such green eyes unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. Her lips are pouty and distracting.

I remember staring at them the other day when she served me coffee.

My hand stills on the roof of the car.

Portland isn’t a small city by any means, so I hadn’t been very surprised to catch a vampire’s scent in the cafe on most days. However, I never realized the reason for that constant, particular smell was because one of their employees was a vampire. Not till I came face to face with a nervous redhead with deep green eyes that shone with specks of gold when the light hit them.

I slowly close the door, recalling the way she cut her hand on the knife she had been trying to hide from me.

That wound—did it heal?

I find my feet moving toward the coffee shop before I can stop myself. I can see her wiping down the counter now, having already gone back inside while I was staring at her, deep in thought. The bell attached to the glass door jingles when I open it, and she looks up. I see the alarm in her eyes, followed by a flash of what can only be called fear.

“I—” Her eyes dart toward the back room, and her voice is tense. “Can I help you?”

The mouthwatering aroma of fresh bread fills the entire shop. When I step toward the counter, the female vampire immediately moves backward, as if terrified of me.

“Do you need something?”

I blink slowly. “Yeah. Coffee, please.”

Relief is stark on her face. “Of course, yeah. Right away.”

Her hands are shaking as she reaches for a to-go cup, and my eyes fall on the bandage around her palm. “Your cut hasn’t healed yet?”

She looks like a little bunny, frozen in place as if any attempt to move on her part will force her to answer my question. She’s amusing, if anything. However, my good humor disappears when it hits me that a vampire who should have incredible healing powers has not recovered from what should have been a simple cut. It’s been close to two weeks now. Even humans heal faster than this.

My eyes automatically move to her left eye as I recall Harry’s words.

“You’re wearing makeup,” I murmur. And a lot of it.

It doesn’t hide the light swelling around her left eye, though.

Taking another step forward, I discreetly sniff her, and my eyes sharpen.

It’s that same scent, the icy one with the odd hint of sweetness. Vampires all carry that same icy scent, which is what makes it so hard to distinguish them by scent alone. But this one, she has a trace of sweetness under that icy scent of hers. The realization follows almost instantly: she is the vampire who saved me!

Is that why she looks so scared of me right now?

“You—”

“Charlotte, can you lend me a hand in—”

A plump older woman walks out of the kitchen, her head wrapped in a hairnet, her face red and flushed.

“Oh!” She is surprised to see me. It doesn’t escape my notice the way her eyes linger on my scarred face. I’m used to it, so it doesn’t bother me.

Charlotte.

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