Page 21 of The Alpha's Mail Order Bride

It was strange, how cold it could get here at night. When she’d arrived, Claire had expected a permanent, balmy summer warmth, but Kurivon’s air got surprisingly cool once the sun had gone down. Having Darion at her side went some way to chasing that chill away, of course. The man was like a walking furnace. But given the situation, she couldn’t exactly snuggle in against him, as much as she might like that. Shestillwanted that, despite everything he’d said in the Council meeting. Strange, that she hadn’t been more hurt by that outburst. He’d made some fairly awful accusations, but it wasn’t like she’d been the only one he’d been insulting. And the more he’d shouted, the more she’d realized that it wasn’t anger that was motivating the outburst. It was fear. But fear of what? She’d hoped for an explanation, when she’d followed him out here. Instead, they sat in a silence that was now so long and awkward that she had a feeling she might actually die if she broke it.

In the end, it was her body that broke the spell—a shiver that rippled through her in response to the cooling night air. Darion shifted automatically to look at her for the first time in what must have been almost an hour. And then, as if acting on some unspoken signal, the two of them rose to their feet and began the walk home.

“That was a lot,” she heard herself say softly. Then, worried he’d take it as an accusation: “Are you alright?”

A short, tense nod was her only answer. Claire was acutely aware of how short the walk back to the cottage was, and she found herself wondering what would happen when they reached it, what kind of agreement had been reached at the meeting. From what the other wolves had said, she’d been invited to stay as long as she liked. But from the way Darion reacted, she had a feeling that that invitation didn’t extend to staying with him. Would she simply go upstairs and pack her belongings? As they reached the cottage, she felt her steps slowing, found herself dragging her feet. Darion was on the threshold before he paused and turned back to her, and in the porch light there was an expression on his face she couldn’t even begin to decipher.

She wasn’t sure what came over her then. A strange, wild courage, the kind of feeling she usually associated with a risky joke. “I want to stay here,” she said, lifting her chin and meeting his gaze defiantly. “I like it here, and I think you like having me here, too. So if you want me to leave, you’re going to have to tell me to go.”

That turbulent expression didn’t shift much…but she had a feeling she saw a glint of surprise underneath whatever else was going on with him. He looked at her for a long moment with his eyes slightly narrowed, and Claire braced herself for what seemed like the inevitable response—he’d ask her to leave in that flat, emotionless tone he had, and she’d slink up the stairs with her cheeks burning with embarrassment. But the seconds ticked by, and Darion didn’t say a word. Claire’s eyes widened, and she quickly schooled the elated smile that was threatening to leap to her lips.

“That’s what I thought,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “That’s agreed, then. When you want me to leave, you’ll say so. Until then, I’ll be translating your silence as an ongoing welcome.” A thought occurred to her. “And I’m not restricted to the house anymore, either. I’m going for walks. I’m going to meet people. The other Alphas said they don’t mind having me here, so you can just—dealwith it.”

Darion’s silence stretched out longer. She felt breathless, reckless, powerful—she took a few steps closer to him, feeling taller than she usually did, even contrasted against his towering frame. There it was, that strange electricity that crackled and snapped in the air between them. He’d been pretending not to notice it, but she knew he did by the careful way he avoided touching her, the way he’d wait for her to be out of the hallway before he entered, the way he’d leave an entire cushion between them on the couch. But he felt it—that much was maddeningly obvious, and right now it was absurd to her that either of them were pretending otherwise.

“And another thing,” she said, narrowing her eyes as she took another almost threatening step, closing the gap between them.

Later, she’d wonder if Darion had sensed what she was about to say. If he had, he certainly went to a pretty extreme length to avoid the subject. As she stepped closer, she felt that familiar static electricity run through the space between them—and then Darion moved, stepping past her and away from the doorway. But by the time she’d turned to follow him, he was gone; in his place, a great, shaggy wolf with a pair of eerily familiar silver eyes shining against its dark brown fur.

“Woah,” she whispered. She felt frozen to the spot, primal instincts flaring to life in the face of the apex predator staring her down from a few feet away. The memory of the two wolves she’d seen on the path felt like a dream, airy-thin and insubstantial. The wolf in front of her was larger and more powerful than any she’d seen—in pictures, in documentaries, even the captive packs she’d looked at through bars at the zoo. Claire’s whole body was more awake and alert than it ever had been, but she realized, as she gazed deeply into those silver eyes, that she wasn’t afraid. The creature in front of her could have killed her with one bite of those enormous jaws…but somehow, she knew that would never happen.

And slowly, cautiously, she moved toward him. Closer, step by step, until her outstretched hand brushed against the shaggy fur on the wolf’s neck, below one pointed ear. She was surprised by how soft it was, as she eased her fingers tentatively through the thick coat. The wolf—Darion, she reminded herself dizzily, this was Darion—didn’t move.

“That’s really you, huh?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. He moved abruptly, and she froze, suddenly petrified that she’d misread the situation, but then her eyes widened. The wolf had backed up a few paces and shifted his weight back, forelegs outstretched in front of him, those bright silver eyes still fixed on her face. A shocked laugh cleared her lips before she could stop it. The body language was unmistakable—it was the exact kind of playful bow with which her childhood dog had always approached her when he wanted to play. She heard the wolf exhale softly, body tensing; then he moved with a sudden, terrifying speed, darting in a tight circle around the yard before returning to her side, then tearing away again. Claire laughed again, shocked and delighted in equal parts, a curious sense of unreality pervading the scene as the enormous wolf frolicked around the yard like a puppy. She glanced across the ground around her, half intending to find a stick to throw for him, before the strangeness of that idea caught up with her and doubled her over with laughter again.

By the time he’d shifted back, her ribs were aching with laughter, and the tension between them had eased enough to let them go inside together. She knew better than to expect Darion to make any reference to what had happened out there—his face was as closed and unreadable as ever as he set about making dinner, as though nothing had changed. But every time she caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye, she found herself grinning at the memory of that great wolf, capering and frolicking in the front yard with her.

And as the days passed, just as she’d predicted, Darion made no mention of any desire for her to leave his house. It was almost as though the Council meeting hadn’t happened at all, as if they’d agreed to live together indefinitely, instead of just a week. It was a few days before she was bold enough to leave the house, in the end; part of her was worried that she’d be pushing her luck, that his fragile patience would snap and he’d bark at her to leave. But when he emerged from his room to find her about to walk out of the front door, the only comment he made was to suggest she take a hat with her.

“It’s only weird if you make it weird,” she murmured to herself as she headed down the path, already grateful for the hat she’d grabbed to shade her eyes from the bright morning sun. That conviction, however, lasted about as long as it took to get to the end of the path that ran from Darion’s cottage down to the beach. She emerged from the trees and onto the pale sand, before the sight of the crowded beach stopped her dead in her tracks. A perfectly normal summer day at the beach, she thought faintly.

Aside from all the wolves, that was.

There were a dozen or so people on the beach, set up with towels and umbrellas on the sand closest to the tree line. That was fine. That part didn’t bother her. But further down, closer to the water’s edge, the darker sand had been churned up by the impact of countless paws. There were half a dozen wolves, tearing back and forth along the sand, wrestling with one another before breaking away and sprinting into the water. It was almost impossible to shake the association with the dog park near her last apartment, where she’d often walked when she needed a break from writing. These weren’t dogs, she kept telling herself, jaw agape as she watched the wolves play. These were people. People, just like Darion, Reeve, and the others she’d met at the Council meeting. People with stunning, beautiful, unearthly silver eyes.

People, she realized with a jolt, who were heading her way with unmistakable curiosity in their body language. She was quickly surrounded by the half-dozen or so wolves who’d been playing by the water, and as they came closer, she wondered why they were so much smaller than Darion. Was that part of the shapeshifting, she wondered? Did they decide how big to be whenever they transformed? But then she looked closer, and realized with a jolt of amusement that there was a much simpler explanation.

“Oh, you guys arepuppies,” she said, a grin of wonder breaking out across her face. One of the wolves uttered a low, puzzled whine, and she clapped her hands over her mouth. “Kids! I mean kids. You guys are kids. Human—I mean, not human, but I mean—you’re not—”

The wolves were exchanging glances with one another. This might have been the weirdest interaction of her life, but Claire had been a teenager recently enough to recognize an eye roll when she saw one. She folded her arms across her chest, determined to stop embarrassing herself, and a few of the young wolves sauntered away, losing interest in the newcomer already. The smallest of them remained, though, bright silver eyes still fixed curiously on her face.

“Hi,” she said, wondering if she should extend her hand for the pup to shake with a paw. “My name’s Claire.”

“Rylan, where are your manners?”

It was oddly reassuring to hear a human voice—or at least what sounded like one. The wolf pup scampered away at the sound of his name, and Claire watched him run off to join the others down by the water, grinning to herself as she remembered the way her childhood best friend’s little brother would always tag along with the bigger kids. With the scrutiny of the wolf pack gone, Claire headed over to join the woman who’d spoken, who was stretched out on a towel in the shade of the trees and regarding her with a warm smile.

“Sorry about them,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Nosy as anything, but shy around strangers. Terrible combination. You’re the visitor, aren’t you? I’m Yara. Come and sit with the grown-ups.”

Claire had never been much good at making friends—she tended to stick to one person at a time, something Suzanne often teased her about. Given how long it had taken her to endear herself to Darion, she’d been a little worried that the other wolves of Kurivon would pose the same difficulty—but she was shocked by how quickly she felt at ease among the wolves on the beach that day. They were as curious about her as she was about them, and though Darion had made her wary of asking too many questions about their lives here, they seemed more than happy to fill her in. Before she knew it, the sun was setting. Shyly, she thanked the wolves for keeping her company; in response, Yara extracted a promise that she’d join them for lunch the next day at the community center.

And so it was that she began to be inexorably drawn into Kurivon’s social fabric. She did her best to remember names and faces, keeping as many notes as she could—everyone here knew each other so well that they often forgot to make introductions. And it didn’t help that half the time they were in their wolf bodies. Still, they were welcoming, and much more informative than she’d expected. On that first afternoon alone, she learned more about the wolves of Kurivon than Darion had shared with her during her whole first week on the island. Wolves, she was learning, were gifted storytellers. She learned about the two packs that shared the island, that they were building a community here that would one day be home to five packs, if not more. They told her about how Darion and Reeve had once led rival packs, and how Reeve’s partner Lyrie had put an end to the dispute between them. They told her about a terrible tragedy that had befallen Belmont’s pack, about the grief that was still healing…and they told her, in somber voices, about the demonic threat that still lingered in the archipelago of islands, dormant but not extinct.

It was hard to gauge whether Darion had an opinion about the sudden uptick in her social life. He certainly didn’t comment on it, with one possible exception. After her first few days spending time with the other wolves on the island, he made a point of warning her to avoid being caught alone in the forest after dark—a warning, she realized later, that had something to do with the demonic presence the other wolves had told her about. From what she could gather, the word the wolves used in their native language didn’t have a clear translation to English; the religious connotations of ‘demon’ were somewhat inappropriate. Still, it was the accepted term for the monsters—or forces, she couldn’t quite get a handle on which it was—that stalked the island.

Demons, she thought faintly. Why not? She’d accepted the existence of shapeshifters readily enough; why not add demons to the mix? But some part of her remained oddly reluctant to accept it.

That was, until she saw one.

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