Page 15 of The Alpha's Mail Order Bride

“They were all wolves too?”

“Reeve’s staff? Yes.”

“Wolf lawyers. You have wolf lawyers.” She took a deep breath, worried she was about to start howling with laughter again. “Okay. Right. Of course. Wolf lawyers.”

“There have been wolves living in your world for as long as there have been humans,” Darion said stiffly, rising to his feet to forestall any follow-up questions about that incredibly evocative statement. “For now, I’ll have to ask you to remain in the house. Make yourself at home, help yourself to anything in the kitchen—but I’d ask that you stay out of my room.” He nodded to the nearest door in the hallway, and Claire resisted the urge to salute. “I’ll be meeting with the Council this afternoon, and I should have some answers for you soon.”

“Take your time,” she said, shrugging. “I don’t mind waiting around for a few days in paradise, Darion.” She cleared her throat. “And if you need my signature on any of the paperwork, let me know.” He looked at her blankly. “The—marriage? I’m assuming you’ll want to annul that?”

“Right,” he said blankly. “Annul. Of course. Very well.”

An awkward farewell, and he was gone, leaving her alone in his cottage and still reeling from perhaps the strangest conversation of her life. But despite the laundry list of questions she had regarding the secret society of shapeshifting wolves that had apparently been living among humanity for centuries, for some reason it was the last part of their conversation that her mind kept sticking on. He’d forgotten, she realized. There she was, thinking that what was upsetting him the most was that the two of them had been married without his consent. But this whole time, what he’d really been worried about was her finding out that this island was inhabited by wolves. No wonder Reeve had been so evasive about the actual location of this place. It made her feel stupid, that she’d been hung up on something like paperwork when everyone else had had bigger things on their minds.

“This is good,” she told herself firmly as she rummaged through the kitchen cabinets to find herself some breakfast. “You don’t want to stay married to a guy who didn’t even care that you were married in the first place, do you? Of course not.”

Half an hour later, she was settled on her neatly made bed, her laptop in her lap, a plate of toast and a steaming cup of coffee on the bedside table. The guys she’d dated had always rolled their eyes at her fondness for eating in bed, but it was a guilty pleasure that had never faded for her, and right now, she was going to take as much pleasure as she could from this deeply weird situation. With the bedroom window open, the warm tropical breeze tousled her hair and brought the faint scent of the sea with it, and she stretched her legs out in the sun that spilled through the window. There was always contentment to be found if you knew how to look for it. Claire crunched her way happily through her toast and scrolled through her Facebook feed, grinning to herself at the thought of posting a braggy little holiday photo to her feed. Oh, me? Just on a quick jaunt to Werewolf Island…

She wasn’t sure why Darion had seemed so surprised by her willingness to stay here. This place was paradise, even with the restriction of not being able to leave the cottage; there was a whole backyard to sunbathe in, not to mention the little balcony at the end of the hallway. Plus, this was just about the most comfortable bed she’d ever been in. She had her Kindle, she had her laptop…what more could a girl need, really? Sure, she’d have been a little happier if the man she’d come here to marry was actually the least bit interested in her, but she’d spent enough of her life moping over disinterested men. So far, this trip was all bright side, Claire decided. At least eighty percent, anyway.

She tabbed into her personal email, giving her professional account a wide berth on purpose. Part of this trip was about remedying the burnout, and she knew how quickly she’d get sucked back into work if she let herself glance at her inbox. She’d made sure that there was an autoreply set and nothing pressing due for submission—the only email she needed to worry about was the one she’d promised to send to Suzanne with updates.

Claire hesitated with her hands over the keys, biting her lip. She’d promised to tell Suzanne absolutely everything that happened here; ‘every graphic detail,’ that had been her best friend’s exact phrasing. She’d be disappointed to hear that there would be no graphic details forthcoming, Claire knew. As much as she’d have liked to get a little closer with the enormous man whose house she’d effectively invaded, it was pretty clear that her interest was one-sided. Maybe she’d write about him instead, she reflected, chewing thoughtfully on her thumbnail. A steamy little short story might distract Suzanne from the lack of actual information about what was going on here…and make Claire feel better for keeping so many details back.

Like the fact that the people who lived here wereactualshifters. Even if she hadn’t had Darion’s warning in the back of her mind, she had a feeling she’d have kept that detail to herself. She didn’t want Suzanne thinking she’d gone completely insane over here, even if that was probably a little closer to the truth than she liked to think. Was it possible she’d imagined it? Every time she revisited the memory, she found it harder to believe…the two shaggy wolves silhouetted in the moonlight, but still clearly visible as that impossible transformation rippled through their bodies and turned them into two curious men with bright silver eyes…

Claire exhaled, frowning at her half-drafted email to Suzanne. Then she tabbed into another window and started writing. She’d keep the secrets she learned here, she’d promised Darion that much, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t keep her own notes.

And if this absolutely surreal experience wasn’t enough to break her writer’s block, Claire had a feeling that nothing would be.

Chapter 8 - Darion

The sleep deprivation was beginning to really bother him by the time he reached Kurivon’s town hall. Strange, that. He was no stranger to sleepless nights, long patrols, grueling battles with demons that stretched out over hours or days…but the last twelve hours had knocked him around far more than he’d expected. It had been draining in ways he couldn’t articulate. Something to do with the way Claire made him feel. She’d been so understanding when he’d basically told her she was a prisoner in his house—she’d even been making suggestions, trying to solve his problem and lighten his mood.

And this after he’d all but accused her of being a spy and interrogated her about her work…he grimaced, embarrassment at that memory burning hotly in his mind. She was a writer, that was all. An artist. Had Reeve known that, he wondered? Surely he’d looked into her background before bringing her here, realized that she made her living writing sexually provocative stories about…he put that thought out of his mind as firmly as he could, the skin on his face burning with what he told himself was his ongoing anger with what his brother had done.

At least the Council had been willing and able to assemble at short notice. Renfrey was already there—always the first to arrive, their leader, and always the one setting up the furniture, despite his elevated role on the island. Darion quickly set about helping him, quickly scanning the hall to make sure Reeve hadn’t arrived yet. Tradition dictated that he’d had to extend the invitation to his brother, but he’d hesitated for a long moment regardless, more tempted than he’d ever been to defy decorum. Maybe Reeve wouldn’t turn up. Lyrie could speak on both of their behalf, though he knew better than to hope his brother would go along with such a simple solution.

“Is everything alright?” Renfrey asked him in an undertone once the chairs were in place, his eyes worried. “Is anyone hurt?”

All Darion could do was shake his head, jaw tight. He didn’t want to have to repeat this story more than once—he was already worried that he wouldn’t be able to get through it without his anger getting the best of him. So they waited until the rest of the Council of Alphas had settled into their seats. Sure enough, Reeve was among them, his smirk undaunted, though he looked a little more tired than usual, Darion noticed with some satisfaction. Good. A little sleep deprivation was the least he deserved. Lyrie was at his side, and though her expression was its usual serene mask, Darion had a feeling she’d be on his side on this one. The rest of the Alphas nodded to him as they settled in. Torren, ever the alarmist, was wearing his longsword at his hip, which drew a few worried glances from the others. Darion gritted his teeth, annoyed that yet again, he was going to be the scapegoat for the chaos his brother had caused.

“Thank you for meeting at such short notice, esteemed Council,” Darion said, calling the meeting quickly to order. “I won’t waste your time with much preamble. I need to make the Council aware of a developing situation involving a stranger on the island—a human woman who arrived late yesterday without my knowledge.” A murmur of shock went up among the Alphas, punctuated by a scoff of laughter from Reeve. “The human is presently confined to my residence—”

“Are you really going to talk about her like she’s an enemy soldier?” Reeve broke in impatiently, rolling his eyes. “Her name is Claire, and she’s a romance author from San Diego. She’s visiting, that’s all.”

“Ahuman?” Renfrey’s expression was a mixture of confusion and concern. “How did she get here?”

“Good question,” Darion said, drawing himself up. But Reeve had clearly been prepared for this one.

“I brought her here,” he said frankly. “I made contact with her online, performed a series of background checks, then brought her to my yacht to sign a battery of paperwork.”

“Why?” Torren broke in, eyes wild. He’d shifted his hand from the hilt of his sword, but Darion could see him itching for an excuse to return it there. “Why bring a human to Kurivon?”

“And without consulting anyone else,” Darion added, feeling a righteous satisfaction at the alarmed looks on the faces of his fellow Alphas. Reeve had such an insouciant demeanor that sometimes he found himself doubting his own convictions. It was incredibly validating to be in a room where other people were taking issue with his nonsense. Even Renfrey, who usually remained impartial while he came to a decision about anything, was visibly frowning.

“True, I didn’t discuss the matter with you, Alpha Renfrey,” Reeve said, looking apologetic. “But on thorough reflection, I concluded that the visitor was pack business, and I was concerned about setting a precedent of asking Council permission for actions that are well within an Alpha’s scope.”

“Pack business?” Darion had to consciously work to stop his fists from clenching at his side. “Pack business? Bringing a spy from another world to our island?”

---