Page 17 of The Alpha's Mail Order Bride

“She’s a human,” Darion said immediately. “Will the packs be willing to accept an outsider in their midst?” He knew he was reaching even as he spoke. The wolves of Kurivon had quickly come to accept the presence of wolves from Earth in their midst, even learning their language and incorporating their technology into their lives. It would have surprised him to hear of anyone taking serious issue with a human visitor, but he couldn’t let Reeve get away with this unchallenged.

“A discussion that each Alpha is invited to have with their packs,” Renfrey said firmly. “The Council will meet again a week from now for further discussion on the matter.” The Alpha’s expression softened a little. “Darion, I understand this situation has been imposed on you. Other arrangements can be made for the guest if you’d prefer she not stay with you.”

“That won’t be an issue,” Darion snapped, a little too quickly—he hated the smirk he could see on Reeve’s face out of the corner of his eye. “No need to make her feel like a burden. She can remain where she is.”

“How very hospitable of you,” Reeve drawled, and without looking at him Darion knew his eyes were sparkling suggestively. “It’s so nice to see a new side of my ever-solitary brother.”

“There is nothing new about cleaning up your messes,” Darion snapped, feeling his temper give way as he wheeled toward Reeve. It was satisfying to see the momentary flash of real concern on his brother’s face, but that feeling was fleeting. Renfrey called the meeting to a close, clearly not pleased with the tension between the brothers, and Darion left as quickly as he could, not interested in hearing from any of his fellow Alphas right now. Any attempt at soothing his temper, he knew, would have the opposite of its intended effect. And he had enough to deal with without adding a dispute with another Alpha to the list.

He’d been half expecting his brother to pursue him through the trees, and he gritted his teeth when he heard his name called—but it wasn’t Reeve’s voice. With a mixture of relief and consternation, he turned to see Lyrie a few paces behind him.

“He’s really outdone himself this time,” she said frankly, and he closed his eyes for a moment, so relieved to hear that at least one other person was being realistic about this situation. “I’m sorry, Darion. I wish I’d figured this out sooner. I’d have warned you what he was up to.”

“I know.” There was no need to force a smile with Lyrie—she knew how to read the gratitude in his face. He sighed. “It’s hard to argue against an arranged marriage when I was responsible for one myself.”

“True.” Lyrie hesitated. “Is she really that bad, this woman?”

“Claire?” He frowned. “No. No, she’s—fine. She’s lovely.” He turned away, suddenly aware of how closely Lyrie was looking at him. She always saw more of him than he was necessarily interested in showing. “That’s not the point.”

“I know,” Lyrie said quickly. “And I know it seems like Reeve’s wriggled out of facing any kind of consequences like he always does, but he hasn’t, alright? Just—don’t take it out on Claire.”

“Of course not.” He frowned at her. “What do you think of me?”

“I just mean…” Lyrie ran a hand through her hair, grimacing. “She doesn’t know you as well as we do. You can be…intimidating.”

He frowned, thinking of the way Claire had flinched away from him when he raised his voice, thinking of the way she’d shrunk into her chair when he’d been asking her about her job. He nodded begrudgingly. “I’ll play nice. I promise.”

“Good.” Lyrie nodded. “Now, I’ve got a soulmate to rake over the coals,” she said darkly, turning to leave.

“Give him hell.” He even managed a smile.

The sun was setting as he made his way back across the island toward his cottage, and though his anger was under control, it was still burning hot and fierce under his heart. The meeting had been an absolute disaster, but Lyrie’s warning not to take it out on Claire was still fresh in his mind as he pulled the door open. Darion paused in the doorway, wondering for a confused moment whether he’d somehow managed to walk into the wrong house. The lights were on, there was music playing, and when he breathed in he caught the unfamiliar scent of someone else’s cooking.

And there was Claire. She was in the kitchen, and he realized she hadn’t yet heard him come in. It quickly became clear why. She was striking a bizarre pose, her eyes screwed shut and her head thrown back. She was holding a wooden spoon aloft like a weapon, its bowl a few inches from her lips, and she was singing along raucously to the music that he realized must be coming from her phone, resting a few feet away on the countertop. As the chorus of the song came to an end, she straightened and snapped her head dramatically toward him, her dark eyes breaking open…then immediately filling with shock and consternation.

“Oh!” She dropped the spoon with a clatter then dove for the phone, muttering profanities under her breath as she silenced the music. Darion was shocked to feel a smile tugging at his lips. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were—uh—how long have you been there, exactly?” Her pretty face was bright pink when she straightened, the dropped spoon in her hand, her dark hair all askew, and in that moment, Darion wanted nothing more than to run his fingers through those tousled curls, to cup her head gently in his hands and draw her close—

He turned away abruptly, shocked by how sudden the image was, how intense. Behind him, Claire cleared her throat.

“I made dinner,” he heard her say. “I thought we could eat while you tell me about the meeting?” The silence was unbearable, but Darion couldn’t bring himself to break it. “But no pressure,” she added, and he hated to hear the disappointment that her cheerful demeanor couldn’t quite conceal.

“I’m tired,” he forced himself to say as he took jagged, halting steps toward the hallway, knowing that some explanation was better than none at all. “We’ll talk later.”

“Of course! Sorry. I’ll keep it down out here.”

“Good,” was all he could manage. He made it to his bedroom with his heart thudding in his chest, feeling like a monster as he closed the door behind him. Silence engulfed the cottage again, and he sat down heavily on the edge of his bed and dropped his head into his hands. Play nice, Lyrie had told him. Just get to know her a little, Reeve had suggested. As if it was that easy. As if that would be all it took to break down the ancient walls around his heart and turn him into a friendly, normal guy. Did they really think he hadn’t thought of that? Did they really think he hadn’t tried already—and failed, over and over?

He’d barely known her a day, but it was already clear to him that Claire was a sweet, kind woman who was far too accommodating for her own good. That, more than anything, was the real root of his anger with his brother for dragging this woman into his life. Claire deserved better than to be shackled to a grumpy old monster like him. Sure, she was making the best of a bad situation, but it was already clear that the only possible outcome for her here was pain and hurt feelings.

And Darion was determined to see to it that she got back to the bright, cheerful world where she belonged before he could trample on her feelings too much more.

Chapter 9 - Claire

This was definitely the strangest vacation Claire had ever been on.

The location was, of course, five stars. There was delicious sunshine on the porch every morning and in the backyard every afternoon, and she was thrilled to discover a hammock on the back porch that was positioned to catch the perfect amount of sea breeze. The cottage was everything she could have asked for, cozy and quaint, with a well-stocked kitchen and plenty of nooks to settle in for reading, writing or simply daydreaming. Even the limited internet speed felt more like a feature than a bug; it slowed her down enough to discourage her from mindless scrolling, and more and more she was finding herself detaching from the constant presence of her phone.

Still, her curiosity was needling at her something fierce. After what she’d seen that first night, she’d hoped for a whole new world to open up before her eyes—but aside from the literal shapeshifting that she’d witnessed, there’d been no further indications that she was living on an island of wolves. Part of that, of course, was being restricted to the cottage. She and Darion had sat down for a discussion that evening following his meeting—after she’d utterly humiliated herself with an impromptu karaoke performance in the kitchen, of course. What was it about this man that kept getting her into embarrassing situations? She’d never been as effortlessly poised and alluring as Suzanne, but she’d always managed to be at least a little bit cool. But that battle had been well and truly lost here.

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