Page 7 of Cursed Bonds: An Alpha's Destiny

My wolf went mad from the smell, too, almost enough to make me lose control. We stood, clawing at the ground, desperate to rush the cabin, curse be damned, though that would mean death. I wrested back control of my inner beast, but only barely, a whine of desire squeaking from my chest. Finally, I had to shift back to my human form to regain full control. I pressed my hand to a tree and leaned forward, taking deep, steadying breaths, but that smell of coffee filled my nostrils, tendrils of scent winding their way into my skull, tickling my brain. Strangest of all was the deep, aching tug in my chest and the surprising stirring between my legs. What the fuck was happening to me?

The cabin door opened again, and I slipped behind the tree, keeping my gaze locked on the house to see exactly who the hell smelled so damned good. A woman stepped out. The porch light illuminated her as she picked up the trash bag and carried it to a garbage bin next to the car in the driveway. Slim yet curvy, hair as black as night, and a face that could stop traffic. My legs shook so badly that I slid to the ground, taking a knee to steady myself, but I never took my eyes away from her. Confusion and fear warred in my head. I’d never felt this before. Had no clue what was going on.

Deep in my mind, the hungry voice of my inner wolf purred into my ear. The single word was like a punch to the gut.

“Mate.”

Chapter 3

Kirsten

After hours of scrubbing and wiping, I’d managed to get a handle on the dust problem. The place had been coated in a thick, sticky layer of the stuff. When I’d arrived the day before, the first thing I’d dealt with was walking through the whole place to check for leaks, mold, or rodents. Much to my surprise, the place was totally secure and intact. Not a single mouse turd, which was a huge relief. I’d spent the rest of that day knocking down cobwebs and beating the grime out of cushions and area rugs. After an hour of sneezing from all of the dust, I’d fallen asleep in my old bed.

“God, this place is disgusting,” I muttered as I mopped the floor a second time.

The first had only begun to cut through the years of built-up dirt and dust. How the hell could a place have gotten so dirty with nobody living in it? I’d already almost run out of the few cleaning supplies I’d brought, and I hadn’t even begun to tackle the bathroom or kitchen.

By the evening of my second day in the cabin, I was stuffing old newspapers and junk mail into a trash bag between bites of the frozen pizza I’d baked—part of the grocery haul I’d picked up on my way to the cabin. A fine sheen of sweat had sprung up on my forehead as I worked, and I hadn’t realized the sun had set when I opened the door to toss the bag out.

“Holy shit,” I muttered. The whole day had vanished in a cloud of dirt and elbow grease.

I went back to the table, finished the pizza, and chugged from my insulated water bottle before heading back to the porch. Yanking the bag up, I carried it to the big trash can in the driveway. The first thing I needed to do the next day was go to Crestwood and get more cleaning supplies. Slamming the lid on the trash can, I stared down the long gravel driveway.

Crestwood. Not a place I really wanted to go.

Even as a kid, it had been uncomfortable the few times Nana and I had gone into town. Even after talking to Harley about it the other day, I couldn’t quite put my finger on why. The shifters had never made me feel out of place. They’d been polite and more or less ignored us for the most part. Though, from what I remembered, most of them had been wary of Nana for some reason. When I’d asked her why they were standoffish with her, she’d simply said that was how things were there and not to worry about it.

The main thing that had always made it strange to be around them was the energy shifters gave off—the power and presence they all shared. It made you feel small and insignificant next to them. The sensation was magnified when there were so many of them together in one place, like in Crestwood. Tomorrow, I’d have to see if things had changed at all since I’d last been there.

Returning to the house, I spent the next hour washing all the dishes, pots, and pans in the house. They were all grimy from sitting unused for years. I stood, waiting for the sink to refill with water for the third time, staring off into space and wondering what to tackle next or if I should make it an early night and turn in.

Before I could decide, a knock at the door made me jump. All I could do was stare at the entryway as the water kept running into the sink. Several seconds ticked by, and when I was starting to believe I’d imagined it, another knock came.

I turned off the water and walked to the door, a tendril of unease settling in my gut. This house was in the middle of nowhere, straddling the unaffiliated area between two different shifter packs. I doubted anyone would be out here selling pest control or something door-to-door, especially at night. Although, being so near a shifter pack meant there was little danger. You’d have to be crazy to try to commit a crime so close to pack lands. Still, better safe than sorry.

Snatching a butcher knife from the block on the counter as I passed it, I hurried to the door. I slid the security chain in place, then unlocked the door, opening it as far as the chain allowed. Outside stood a man, obviously a shifter, since I could feel that weird energy they gave off. The man’s face broke into a smile, and I saw no sign of ill intent on his face.

“Oh, good, I thought maybe you weren’t home,” he said. “My name’s Waylan Cole, I’m on the council of the Crestwood Pack.”

“Okay,” I said, dragging the word out. “Can you tell me why you’re on my porch at nine o’clock at night?”

He chuckled and nodded. “I guess it is getting a little late. Sorry about that, but I came by at the, uh, behest of my alpha. He wanted to meet the new resident.”

Narrowing my eyes, I let some of my apprehension slip away, only for confusion to replace it. “He wants to meet me? Now? In the middle of the night?”

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said, winking at me. “Seems sketchy, but trust me, it’s… um, it’s sort of how we do things. Whenever a newcomer arrives, the alpha always wants to meet them and lay out the ground rules. I promise you won’t end up in jail or anything weird.”

The guy was telling the truth, at least about me not being in danger. This Waylan guy didn’t have an evil bone in his body—I could see it in his eyes. My whole life, I’d trusted my gut when it came to people, and this was one of those times when my heart was telling me I was safe.

But still. Couldn’t this guy have come by in the morning? I’d never met an honest-to-god alpha in real life. Were they all like this? So concerned about their territory that they didn’t allow a stranger a moment to settle in before asking them why they were there?

Something else occurred to me, and I spoke without thinking. “I didn’t have to meet the alpha the last time I stayed here. When I was a kid. What’s different now?”

Waylan’s expression changed. Not appreciably, but enough for me to notice. His brows furrowed in confusion.

“You’ve…” His frown deepened. “You’ve stayed at this cabin before?”

“Yeah. With my nana—er, my grandmother. Back when I was a kid.”

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