Page 21 of Sweetheart: Part One

What would Europe be like?

Central Asia was myrealdream; there were countries there that I had to see before I died. What would it be like to walk the streets of a place that didn’t care about the true colour of my eyes?

I felt a hollow pit open in my stomach as those old, dusty fantasies rustled: ancient paper in a light breeze that hadn’t come about in months.

Stupid…

Never for me, with this poisoned bite.Keep foolish dreams from your mind, idiot, or do you want to jinx the real ones?

Drake was nodding toward the glass double doors spilling light across the huge foyer. “Do you want to see the gardens? Or I could take you out to the cafe down the street if you need some space? They do great ice-cream.”

“Yes,” I said, much too fast, even if Drake didn’t seem to notice. Every moment until now, I’d looked over my shoulder in case Ebony showed up again. That was a problem, since I wasn’t here just to bearoundEbony, I had to make him fall for me.

But I could start with Drake. Would he be enough to convince the others?

Or perhaps, Rook; he’d seemed interested, and his bright chestnut eyes and caramel brandy scent were welcoming. Love too, perhaps with his pale skin and intense eyes, but he was more intimidating like Ebony—though I did like his crisp, vanilla winter scent.

Drake led me into the garage, tugging a fob from his pocket and pressing the button. When my eyes followed the little click, all other thoughts were wiped from my mind, and I couldn’t help my giggle. There were four vehicles in the garage, and three were expensive looking—I recognised the Tesla. Drake, however, led me straight to the fourth vehicle.

An old, beat up, faded red minivan.

“Drives them all up the walls,” he told me with a grin. “Which is hilarious, but also, no paparazzi have clocked my licence plate.”

I climbed in, and he even chose one of my favourite radio stations as he pulled out a back entrance of the property and drove us down the road. For a moment, in this beat up old car, I almost felt at home, and had the urge to sing to the familiar songs of a radio I hadn’t heard in forever.

It was mostly residential around here, with massive sprawling mansions, but we reached a cosy strip mall with a cafe, hair salon, pizza place, and small grocery shop.

We were greeted by friendly aproned workers when we entered the cafe. It was only a minute drive, and I knew, for future, I could walk to it easily. Not that I had money to buy ice-cream, but I hadn’t been allowed on a walk for months. I used to love drifting through the city streets with Aisha, sometimes losing hours in urban adventures.

When we’d settled with our bowls of ice cream—Drake had gone for mint, while I’d picked cheesecake cherry—he didn’t push the conversation. That was another thing I wasn’t used to. Guys were usually uncomfortable with silence, but Drake was happy to lean back on the chair and take in the cafe. Right now, he tapped his spoon absently on his wrist as he examined one of the art pieces on the wall.

I could see the silvery scars of the mystery bite on his neck, the same one the media constantly debated over. Alpha centric packs weren’t formed with bites, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t give them. It was Rook, Love, or Ebony that had given him the claim on his neck he wore without shame, but no one had ever figured out who.

It was hard not to stare at him from beneath my lashes as I worked on my ice cream. He was tall and slender, with chin-length midnight black waves framing his face and pale skin.

“If you don’t want to go back yet, we could go on a walk or something?” he asked casually into the quiet. “Let Ebony get it all out in the gym, then he’ll vanish back into his room. You won’t have to see him.”

I swallowed my bite of ice-cream, eyeing him and trying not to look as nervous as I felt at the mention of Ebony. “I don’t want to take up your whole day, if you’re—”

“I’m not,” he said, cutting me off. “I didn’t have plans.”

“Oh… okay…” I nodded, not meeting his eyes. “A walk sounds good.”

We finished our ice cream and meandered down a few of the streets until he crossed to a little forested path that walked us along a stream.

Still, we drifted between easy conversation and silence without discomfort, which felt a little surreal. I didn’t feel pressured by him, nor did I feel like an imposition, and the time trickled by without me noticing. At his side, I felt more peace than I had done in months.

Just like Ebony, he was different from what I’d imagined. He’d always been the quiet one, and no magazine had ever been able to get a read on him. But that quiet wasn’t intimidating in person, it was soft, intent, and caring.

We turned around after we’d realised we’d walked far too long, and began back as the daylight became a summer-set orange. He seemed content and unworried, and all the anxiety I’d been drowning in for forever struggled to get its claws in right now.

We’d talked about a lot, and kind of nothing, which was a breath of fresh air when I’d had no one to truly speak to in such a long time. He also hadn’t pressed me about… well, anything—not why I was choosing to stay, and he didn’t tell me I should leave again.

It was hard to keep my eyes from him, now I’d discovered who he really was.

He was so beautiful, it was an ache building in my chest as I thought of leaving him behind. Scent matches were no joke; I’d known him for hours and this was the first time I’d been afraid of failure for anything other than freedom.

He wore a dark band shirt and jeans, and on style alone, I’d always felt I matched him best from the posters of the Crimson Fury pack on my wall. His scent was blackcurrant wine: sweet, with a hint of sharpness. It was soothing, and I felt as if I could get tipsy just huffing him.

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