Page 20 of The Alpha's Mail Order Bride

“Me?” Claire’s dark eyes were wide. “Yes, um, of course. We talked about”—her eyes flickered worriedly from Darion to Reeve—“the, uh, miscommunication.”

Darion scowled as a murmur of amusement went up among the Alphas, Reeve going so far as to chuckle out loud. “See? I told you she was good,” Reeve said with a grin, glancing around the circle. “Your diplomacy is very kind, Claire. We can speak frankly. I was a terrible beast,” he continued, casting his gaze downwards in a theatrical show of contrition. “I lied to just about everyone in this room to arrange your arrival here, and I’ll be searching for ways to atone for that crime for—”

“Reeve,” Lyrie said. Her voice was neither loud nor sharp, but that single measured syllable was enough to stop Darion’s brother dead in his tracks. Lyrie rarely spoke up in Council meetings, but when she did, she always commanded the room. Darion felt a rush of gratitude for her intercession. If it had been left to him to shut his brother up, he didn’t know what he would have done.

“Iamgenuinely sorry,” Reeve said now, his tone more subdued. “My brother’s anger with me is more than justified, and I wanted to make a public apology—to Darion as well as Claire—for the way I interfered with their lives. If I could have my time again…well, I’d still very much want for the two of you to make contact, but I might think about arranging things a different way.”

“Why?” Claire said, tilting her head. Darion looked sharply at her, and she shrank suddenly, a hand flying to her mouth. “Sorry.”

“You’re free to speak,” Renfrey said, shooting Darion a reproachful look.

“Why did you want us to meet? I mean, I know you were worried about your brother being isolated, but—why me, specifically?” He could see Claire’s curiosity getting the better of her, see her emerging from her shell of politeness at the Council’s urging, and a sudden wave of regret made him feel dizzy. She really was frightened of him, wasn’t she? He hadn’t meant to make her walk on eggshells all week, but it was abundantly clear that that had been what was happening. To think he’d begun to believe she actually liked his company—that her interest in him might go behind her natural curiosity about wolves—he shifted in his seat, suddenly wanting nothing more than to run out of the building and never return.

“Darion didn’t tell you that part, huh?” Darion didn’t need to look at his brother to know he was smirking as he spoke. “I’m not surprised.”

“Reeve,” Lyrie said again, and this time there was an unmistakable note of warning in her voice. There was an uncomfortable tension in the silence that followed, but finally, Reeve sighed in defeat.

“I had a hunch,” he said softly. “That’s all. Wolves are all about intuition, Claire. And when you and I made contact, my gut told me that you’d be good for my brother.”

If Darion hadn’t been so gripped with anger that he could barely move, he would have marveled at Reeve’s restraint. It had a lot to do with Lyrie’s presence, of course. Something told him that there had been some strong words exchanged since last week’s meeting; she always had been the only person who could keep him under control. He was grateful, at least, that Reeve hadn’t brought up the matter of the lorekeeper who’d predicted that he and Claire were soulmates. It was one thing to share a few superficial details about wolves and their culture with an outsider like Claire, but he drew the line at something as profound and intimate as the soulmate bond. She was a human. She wouldn’t understand. That was why he didn’t want to discuss it, he told himself firmly. That had to be why the very thought of the discussion made adrenaline surge through him.

“Thank you for making that apology, Reeve,” Renfrey said into the uneasy silence that followed. It was clear to Darion that the other wolves in the circle hadn’t forgotten the matter of the lorekeeper’s testimony. “Darion?”

“I have nothing to say.” His voice rasped unpleasantly in his throat, and he kept his eyes fixed on the far wall.

“Understood,” Renfrey said, disappointment clear in his voice. “Claire?”

“Um.” He could feel her dark eyes on him, worried and searching, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at her. “I mean—no apology needed, for me at least. I’ve had a pretty amazing week. This place is stunning. And Darion’s been an amazing host, even with all the—uh—awkwardness.” A murmur of laughter from the other wolves at that. She was incredibly charming, Darion thought with a horrible twisting feeling in his stomach. Of course the Council was going to love her. “So, um—I wanted to thank Darion for having me to stay this week. And to all of you, for—letting me. And I know you’re worried about secrecy and everything, and I totally get that.” She was leaning forward, her voice earnest and intense. “I’ll do whatever I can to—to assure you that I won’t tell anyone about this place, or about wolves, or—anything. Really. I mean, if anything, I could make peoplelesslikely to suspect there’s an island full of wolves out here,” she said, winning more laughter. “My books are pretty out there.”

“That’s kind of you, Claire,” Renfrey said warmly.

“It’s the least I can do.” Darion couldn’t help but glance at her as she took a breath, that ever-present smile making her face glow with light. “I’ve really enjoyed my time here. But I’m happy to head home. I totally understand that the wolves here wouldn’t want to have some outsider human hanging around.”

“Well, now,” Belmont broke in, a faint frown on his face. “Not wanting to speak for the island’s other pack, but that’s certainly not the sentiment among my wolves. I’ve had several conversations this week with pack members regarding our visitor, and none of them have expressed any concerns with her stay here. Quite the opposite, in fact,” he added, lifting an eyebrow wryly. “My lorekeeper Raske is beside himself with interest in the human world, though I wouldn’t subject a guest to that kind of interrogation.”

“Our wolves have no problem with humans,” Reeve said with a shrug. “As you know, half of them grew up among humans anyway. As far as we’re concerned, our guest is welcome to stay as long as she likes. What do you say, Claire?” He leaned forward, that insufferable smile wreathing his features. “Feel like extending your vacation?”

“I’d love to,” Claire said immediately, her eyes aglow. “Oh my God, are you kidding? I love it here. And I’d be more than happy to talk to your lorekeeper, if he’s that interested in humans,” she said, looking across the circle to where Belmont was still smiling faintly. “Hell, I’ll do a TED talk for everyone if you like.”

Darion wasn’t sure what happened. One moment, he was frozen in his chair, vibrating with rage—the next he was on his feet in the middle of the circle, the shocked-looking Council staring up at him. He was shouting, he realized faintly. He’d been shouting for some time. Shouting about duty, about danger, about how they’d all forgotten the true purpose of their mission here—accusing them of putting the community at risk, accusing them of forgetting who they were and why they’d come, even accusing Claire of taking a suspicious amount of interest in their work here. His voice was echoing from the rafters of the building, spittle flying from his lips as he roared about demons, telling them it would serve them all right if an attack came and wiped out half the population. There was a horrible, lurching momentum to his diatribe; he could feel himself venting all the frustration and confusion of the last week, seizing on more and more tenuous accusations to avoid the mounting terror of what was going to happen when he finally stopped talking. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Claire—he already knew what he’d see when he turned back to her, and he couldn’t face the sight of her worried face, the knowledge that yet again, he’d been the one who wiped that beautiful smile from her lips.

There was an awful, ringing silence when he finally came to the end of his diatribe. He stood in the circle, shoulders rising and falling with the effort of his breathing, feeling like he was surrounded on all sides by enemies and not by the wolves who had been his brothers and sisters since he’d arrived here. It was all too much. He couldn’t stay there another second—couldn’t face Renfrey’s disappointment, his brother’s smug silence, the other Alphas’ shock, consternation, or worst of all—pity.

He turned on his heel and walked straight out of the hall without a backwards glance. Outside, the late afternoon was just beginning to give way to dusk, and he could hear the distant sound of laughter as the island’s children laughed and played on the nearby beach. Darion flinched away instinctively, heading in the opposite direction. In the solitude and gloom of the forest, that was where he belonged. He reached the tree line and sat down heavily on a mossy rock, his whole body shaking with adrenaline as he fought to catch his breath.

What had he done? What had he even beensayingback there? Claire had sounded so happy at the idea of staying on the island. Why had his immediate reaction been to crush that joy as hard as he could? Well, he’d done it now, he thought dully. There was no way she was still going to want to stay with him now. Great job, Darion. You got exactly what you wanted.

“Darion?”

He was so lost in the grim despair that had washed over him that for a moment he didn’t register the soft voice at his side. But when he lifted his head, Claire was standing a few feet away, the warm light of sunset making her silhouette glow like an ember. Darion stared at her, utterly at a loss for words. She stepped a little closer, and to his utter shock, he could see a faint smile playing around her lips. It wasn’t fear in her eyes, he realized. Concern, maybe—but she wasn’t frightened of him. She hovered for a moment, then carefully seated herself on the rock beside him, the uneven surface meaning that her shoulder was forced to press lightly against his.

Silence fell between them, somehow more intense than his diatribe inside. He could feel her breathing, feel the gentle rise and fall of her shoulders causing her skin to brush against his, sending strange lightning through him. He’d had to do everything he could, this past week, to avoid any physical contact between them. It made him feel too strange. Being around her was hard enough without adding this to the mixture.

He wanted to speak. He wanted to explain, to apologize, to beg her forgiveness—he wanted so badly for her to understand. But the more that desire welled up in him, the more firmly it seemed to block his throat and still his tongue.

Instead, they sat together in silence while the last of the sunlight bled from the sky.

Chapter 11 - Claire

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