by Casey Morgan
The stranger didn’t move. The air around him shifted and he seemed to get bigger. Then his eyes glowed gold. He was a werewolf too; an alpha like me.
I felt like I had been hit in the gut. I should have known he was here. I should have felt his presence the first day I stepped foot in Gray Acres. Without my nose and my werewolf sense of smell, I was running around a bit blind, but before I had sensed the wolves by just having a feeling.
If that feeling was gone from me now too, I was in real trouble. I had crossed into another wolf’s territory and seduced a woman. A woman I also didn’t realize was Were.
Fuck! What is going on?!
He nodded, seeming to understand my internal dialogue.
“The girl is mine too,” he said. “It is an agreement between me and her father.”
I dropped my head, anger seeping into me. The Blenkos knew Celeste was a Were and they kept it from her. No doubt they probably thought she was some kind of monster and were trying to keep her from ever shifting. That would fit their religious profile.
It was a lot of information and I focused on the detail that made me the maddest.
“Why are you ordering Southland to harass them if you have a deal with Mr. Blenko?” I snapped. “Shouldn’t you be protecting what is yours?”
The other alpha gave a slight, careless shrug.
“Blenko wanted her pure till she was twenty-five. I get her sooner if she shifts. Tension brings on the shift.”
He dropped his hands and twisted his long fingers through his belt loops.
“I’m getting tired of waiting, and if paying Southland to harass the Blenkos gets them out of my territory, then all the better. I just want the girl. The parents can go.”
He relaxed his head to one side and gave me a lazy smile, all his teeth showing.
I clenched my hands into fists.
“Celeste is mine. I’ve asked her to be mine and she has accepted.”
He leaned back on his heels.
“Nonsense. Have you told her what she is?”
“Not yet.” I looked down, guilt wracking me. “Soon.”
He laughed and threw up his hands.
“Then how will she ever trust you? Be gone, pup!”
“No, I will fix this. She is mine.”
“This is my territory, pup.” He raised one long finger. “You’re clearly broken and weak. You didn’t even know I was here. What else are you going to miss? How can you protect that girl?”
His words unnerved me. I had fought alphas in the past. Even without my nose, I had sensed them, but now, I had missed two wolves in just a week.
I was getting weaker. Maybe Celeste would be better off with this guy.
I flexed my hands. I wanted to tell the alpha to shove off. I wanted to shift and rip his throat out, but I couldn’t. Acknowledging my weakness threw me off.
He paced towards me a few feet.
“Ever been near a new shift?” he asked casually.
I shook my head.
“Without being bound to an alpha, new wolves go wild. Those who shift without allegiance will be consumed with blood lust. The change causes them to go crazy. I’ve seen unguided Weres kill their whole adoptive families.”
I knew this; I had heard it all before, but the words sent shivers down my spine.
He was very close to me now and his presence ripped at my skin—his alpha influence fought with mine.
“Can you contain the girl?” he whispered. “If you pull her to shift, can you control her before she tears that old immigrant couple to shreds?”
I pushed him back, putting my hands to his chest. He stumbled slightly but never lost his smile.
“I am Alpha enough.”
“Oh, I doubt that,” the other alpha laughed. “You’re broken and it’s just a matter of time till your dead. Don’t take her with you.”
He turned away from me and walked down the street. After a few steps, he turned his head back.
“Leave, pup. Get your hands off what’s mine. I won’t ask again.”
All I could do was stand there and watch him go.
Chapter Seventeen
Celeste
Fifteen more basket orders came in throughout the day and I was starting to feel overwhelmed. It was a lot of work for three people and Mason was really inexperienced at baking.
After his third burned batch of sugar cookies, I had to tell him to work up front while Mary and I baked. Part of me hated to have him out of my sight, but I had to be practical and do what was best for the shop.
I was so glad that Mason was there. Dominic and the Southland crew hadn’t been back all day. I was sure they were somewhere nursing their wounds. The thought of them injured and hurting pleased me more than I wanted to admit. I wanted Mason to teach me some of the fighting moves he did—granted I couldn’t lift a grown man off his feet, but the kicks and grabs would be useful.
I hummed through the kitchen, fighting my worries and trying to feel every bit a queen of my domain. I kept telling myself that I had everything under control. Cookies were baking, the phone was ringing with more orders, and a steady stream of customers was coming into our humble shop.
I was in charge of everything and I knew my father would be proud if he could see me working. Mother would come downstairs occasionally, but she mostly concentrated on making meals for my father and herself and didn’t comment on how the bakery was doing. That was fine with me.
The oven timer dinged. Another batch of large sugar cookies was done.
I dropped the icing smoother I was using back into the red icing bowl—noticing it was running low—and grabbed a hot pad and swung the oven open. A warm blast hit me in the face along with the smell of fresh baked cookies.
I pulled the cookie sheet out and smiled when I saw that every single cookie was perfect. None were broken and none had become misshapen.
Setting the cookie sheet on the cooling rack, I turned back to the red icing bowl. The frosting that was left wasn’t going to be enough at all.
“Grab the red food coloring and mix up another batch of icing,” I ordered Mary.
She didn’t reply.
I turned back to the heart-shaped cookies I was icing with red. A few minutes later, Mary’s small feet appeared in my view.
As usual, she was shaking slightly. I stood back, set the icing smoother back in the bowl, and looked at my constantly nervous friend. She was frowning.
“Celeste, we are out of food coloring,” she told me.
I moved back to the counter and iced another cookie with our homemade frosting.
“Nonsense,” I told her. “I figured out how much we would need. Check the panty. There should be three more boxes.”
She didn’t move. She just stood next to me, shaking.
“I did. We’re out.”
Her voice was barely a whisper, but every word grated on my nerves.
I froze and looked to her. I was pretty sure she hadn’t checked the pantry and it annoyed me that she didn’t just do what I had said. Why was she being so stubborn all of a sudden?
“Don’t be an idiot,” I snapped. “Check the pantry. Second shelf, where it always is. There are three more boxes.”
She stood there, quivering and frowning.
Ugh!
Her constant fear was disgusting. I turned to face her and raised an eyebrow, giving her a questioning look.
“I did check,” she argued.
Her voice started to shake as well.
“We are out. Should I go to the store?”
My chest clenched and heat started to blossom in my shoulders. Suddenly, everything seemed to be too much. I was seeing red and furious.
Mary wasn’t listening and she was wasting time when were we very busy. I wanted to rip her to shreds or bite her or cut her with the nearby butcher knife.
Wow! Stop! I told myself.
This much anger wasn’t like me. I turned from my friend and dropped my shoulders. I took a few breaths to relax. I must have jus
t miscalculated what we needed. The Southland gang wouldn’t be back today; we could send Mason to the store.
It will all be okay, I told myself.
As Mary looked at me for answers and waited, I started moving a few fresh-baked cookies off the cookie sheet, gently scraping the spatula under them and balancing them on it till they reached the cooling sheet.
The third one that I moved broke. It crumbled, getting bits all over the counter. I jumped back, like something bit me. The pieces of cookie slid off my spatula and dropped onto my shoes. They fell apart and sunk onto the floor making a mess.
“Damn it,” I yelled.
Mary flinched. My eyes snapped to her huddled, shaking shoulders. What a wreck she was; she couldn’t even stand loud words. It was disgusting.
I reached a hand up and put it to my head. My whole body was suddenly aching, like my skin was too small or just wrong. My nose burned and I wanted to claw at it. I pressed my other hand to my face and let out a low moan.
Mary was still standing right next to me. When I looked at her, her eyes were wide. She looked concerned and fearful.
“What the fuck is your problem?” I barked at her.
She opened and closed her small mouth a few times and backed away slowly.
“Celeste?!”
My mother was standing in the kitchen doorway. Her narrow face was pinched into a frown and her hands were clenched. Suddenly ashamed of my behavior, I took my hands from my face and buried them in my small apron.
“Why are you cussing at Mary?” my mother demanded.
Her eyebrows were clenched together, making her narrow face seem even smaller.
Trying to act like what just happened didn’t, I busied myself around the kitchen.
“It was nothing,” I told her. “I just lost my temper for a moment. A bit of a headache. We’re out of food coloring and I need cash to send Mason to the store.”
Mom moved further into the kitchen and leaned on the island. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at my face.
“Why would you send that stranger out with our money? Just send Mary. It’s just ten minutes.”
She was second-guessing me, and it grated on my nerves. I could feel every word she said like a physical itch or cut on my skin. Still, I tried to smile at her and keep calm.
“I need Mary here to help me bake. Mason can go,” I told her. “What if the closest store is out of red dye? I swear I bought all their bottles. I’ve got this covered, Mom. Go back upstairs.”
The last part came out sounding more like an order than I intended it to.
Mom tutted at me.
“You are not yourself, I see. Perhaps trying to be in charge is too much for you.”
She looked down at the broken cookie bits on the floor by my feet. There were also all the burnt cookies that Mason had attempted, strewn about haphazardly. Her face clenched and she seemed to be revolted.
I had been working so hard, her words were like a blow to the gut. My hands clenched into fists.
Mom was wrong; I was doing a wonderful job. Ignoring her stern look, I walked around the island to the set of drawers that held the petty cash box. My mother moved to my side quickly. She watched carefully as I pulled out a ten-dollar bill.
“Send Mary,” she ordered.
I let out a huff of breath and tried to relax my shoulders.
“Ma, you’re being crazy. Mason is the more logical choice.”
Mother turned away from me and looked at Mary. My friend was mixing batter by hand and trying to get as little attention as possible.
“Mary, honey, why don’t you take that bowl up front and use the electric mixer up there?” Mom ordered. “And check on Mr. Whitepaw as well.”
“See!” I said, as Mary hurried away. “Mason is already dealing with our money up front. You’re being very silly over ten dollars.”
Mom grabbed my arm and pulled me over to the small wooden table at the back of the kitchen. We both sat. She glanced at the doughnut I had been snacking on at all morning. It sat, half eaten on a paper towel.
I held her eyes, waiting—daring her to say something about my weight. My temper was hot, and I was ready for a fight. Just to spite her, I brought the doughnut to my lips and bit off a large chunk.
Mom sighed. She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms in front of her.
“You’re not acting like yourself, Celeste. Why don’t you go take a nap and I’ll take over until you feel better?”
“Ma, I’m fine.”
I took another bite of doughnut, glaring at her.
She sighed again and glanced towards the double doors that led to the front of the bakery. “I do not like that this man—this stranger—is still here. You told me that he dealt with the Southland gang yesterday. He should go now.”
I snorted a laugh.
“Mason is helping. Mary and I can’t do everything ourselves. Besides, they will likely come back.”
“With the amount of injury he gave them, I don’t think they will come back anytime soon. Pay him his fifty dollars and send him away. I will come down and help you. I do not like this strange man touching our money.”
“Mason isn’t a strange man! He’s…” I stopped myself.
What was I going to say? He’s my lover—my future husband? Both were true, but I couldn’t tell my mother that. Not yet. She wouldn’t understand.
She looked into my face as if she was reading my mind.
“Celeste, he is a bum. I should have never let you have him in here. It’s like inviting a wild animal into your home.”
I snorted and laughed at her words. She couldn’t be serious.
So what if Mason didn’t have a job? He had been helpful and loving. There was no way I was sending him away.
My headache was getting worse and I was fidgeting in my seat. Mom’s request was unreasonable. She needed to go back upstairs and leave me be.
I finished my doughnut, chewing slowly and concentrating on the sugary taste and not the rage that was filling me. My temper did seem to be awfully short today. It was probably just lack of sleep from my sexy time with Mason the night before.
My mother stared at me, watching my every fidget and chew. Her eyes were so cool and judging.
“Just send him away,” she repeated.
“No.” I blinked at her, holding her gaze and stilling my body. “Mason stays. Go upstairs, Mom.”
She stood and grabbed the ten-dollar bill I had set on the wooden table.
“Mary!” she called, while walking towards the front.
Mary poked her head through the double doors, reluctantly and with great trepidation.
“Go pick up more red food dye,” Mom ordered.
She handed over the money.
Mary grabbed her coat, with a brief look at me, and was gone in a flash. I stood to call her back, but my mother held out a hand to stop me.
It was a careless gesture. Her hand slapped into my shoulder. It wasn’t hard, but the physical contact was too much to bare. I grabbed her wrist, twisted, and slammed her hand into the island’s counter.
We both froze, startled by what I had done.
“What’s wrong with you?” she hissed, her arm still bent in my grip.
I pulled back, like I was burned, and dropped my arms. I had never put a hand on my mother before. My temper was uncontrollable today. I just felt so uncomfortable and angry. I had no idea what was going on.
Mom rubbed the pain out of her wrist. Her eyes stayed on me the whole time.
“Sit down and try to relax,” she told me. Her voice was eerily calm. “I will get you a glass of water.”
I fell into one of the wooden chairs with a huff of breath and stared at my hands in my lap. They didn’t even seem to be mine anymore. I couldn’t understand what was happening to me.
I had no idea how I would have even answered my mother’s question about what was wrong with me. Because I had no clue, myself.
Chapter Eighteen
Mason<
br />
I handed a piece of chocolate cake to a customer and took his credit card. The roundish man smiled at me as he handed it over.
Working up front at the bakery was easy and the customers, for the most part, were kind. I guessed it was hard to be unhappy when buying baked goods.
The steady stream of customers had kept my mind occupied in a way that baking did not—plus I burned too many cookies for Celeste’s liking, anyway. Taking money and handing out treats kept my thoughts busy and away from the alpha I had met this morning. It kept me from obsessing over his claim on Celeste and my fears for the future.
I had been a lone wolf for too long. Had my alpha powers weakened so much that I was no longer aware when other wolves were around?
If I had fallen so low, that was a death sentence. If I made house with Celeste, another wolf could just come in and take her from me. The werewolf this morning was upfront. In a way, he was kind. A different alpha would have snuck up on me and killed me without another thought.
And what of the alpha’s other warning? Could I tame Celeste—bind her to me before she ran wild with blood lust? I honestly didn’t know, and the doubt was tearing me to the core. And yet, I smiled at every person who came into the bakery.
I handed the man back his card and told him to enjoy his cake. He smiled and headed towards the door. Once the shop was empty, I leaned my forearms on the counter and put my head in my hands, breathing deeply for a few minutes and trying to quiet my mind.
I felt his eyes on me before I saw him. Mr. Blenko was standing at the bottom of the stairs, panting. The exertion had cost him. I glanced to Celeste’s father. This was our first time meeting.
Mr. Blenko was tall and lean. He looked like he hadn’t eaten well for a few months. His dark hair was balding slightly. His broken nose was still bandaged, and he clung to the stair rail to hold himself up.
“What are you doing down here, Sir?” I asked him. “Shall I call your wife?”
“No, Mr. Whitepaw,” he groaned. “I would like to speak to you alone. I think we have a few minutes between customers. This is the slow part of the day.”
He had a slight Russian accent to his words. It gave him a bit of an air of formality about him.
