Page 19 of Brutal Alpha Beast
“Yes,” he says. The grass crunches beneath our feet. “Didn’t you have a choice?”
I feel even more nervous when I realize that maybe I’m playing it too cool. Perhaps, I need to try and be a little less detached. How? I’m not sure.
It’s like if I’m the tiniest bit more vulnerable, everything will come flooding back. But I have to try and be unphased by that. I have to try and be…normal.
“I had a choice,” I say. “I’m happy to be here to help strengthen my coven, and, I suppose, your pack too.”
He clears his throat a little. “Good, me too.”
I don’t think we are convinced by each other’s performances, but hey, stifled conversation is better than dancing.
When Ellis takes us to his cabin, which was once his father’s, and since he’s Alpha, now his, I have to remember to pretend that I’ve never seen it before.
“It’s here,” Ellis says.
“Oh,” I feign confusion. “Okay.”
Inside, I’m panicking. Memories of sneaking over here to see Ellis when his dad was out tending to his pack duties or upstairs, fast asleep flood my mind.
I still recall with clarity that feeling of excitement, the bubbling nerves as I approach my favorite part of the day—the voice in the back of my head that questioned his every touch or look; does he like me like I like him too?
“So here we are,” he says in a monotone voice. “We have the kitchen, the main hall, bathroom over here...”
I nod, looking around, pretending to take everything in, but I’ve seen it all before—nothing’s changed. Nothing at all.
As he walks me upstairs, I recognize a candelabra on the ledge of the large window by the landing. It’s silver with intricately detailed swirls, it has holders for five candles, all a little rusted now—small flecks of brown covering the surface like an invasive species.
I can’t be here, a frightened voice inside me says.
I remember, one night, Ellis convinced me to come in through the window. We were young, around the age of thirteen. I don’t know why we thought that it would make less noise than the door.
We wanted to binge-watchThe Howling Night, some dumb series. I’m not much into climbing, and I may or may not have used my magic to help me get up.
Needless to say, I knocked that very candelabra over, and the noise was so loud that we had to run out of the house into town. We ran so far that I think we reached the neighboring pack.
It was the first time he held my hand. It was an in the moment reflex, not romantic per se but it set my whole body on fire.
“Danielle,” present-day Ellis says. “Are you casting a spell?”
“What?” I shrug, my face scrunched. I realize I’m stuck at the window—my body hasn’t moved. “No, why would I be doing that?”
“You tell me. Imagine you bring a witch into your house, and she stands there with an expressionless look on her face.”
“Try to sound more ignorant,” I huff. “I dare you.”
“Do you want the rest of the tour or not?” He frowns.
No, I want to say. I know this house almost as well as my own.
“Sure,” I mumble instead.
He takes me upstairs, shows me all the rooms, the bathrooms, the bedrooms—he mentions how, conveniently, there’s plenty of spare ones for me.
The tour ends up in his room, once his father’s, now his.
It’s grand, complete with a large four-poster bed, a fireplace, plush velvet seating, and an en-suite.
“Nice,” I say, looking around at the luxurious space. I actually never got to see this room much, but boy is it lush. “You’ve made it, congrats Alpha.”
