Elise slowly fell to her knees, wrapped her arms around herself, and cried. What had she done? Not only had she withdrawn from her family and friends, she’d also pulled away from Mikhail.
Why would he even bother showing up this afternoon? She’d allowed her fear to ruin everything.
Tears that she’d held inside for more than a decade poured out. She cried for her early years, and she cried for all she’d lost that she’d never really had. She cried for herself and Mikhail. She was physically attracted to him and it scared her so badly she’d backed away.
She’d pulled so far back into her shell she’d become the woman she’d sworn never to be again. She detested herself for reverting into the frightened woman she’d been.
She banged her fist on the floor as sobs wracked her body. Why? Why had she done it?
Self-protection? Absolutely. But what had it gained her? Nothing but a lifetime of loneliness.
…
As soon as Elise left, Jacque nodded at Gator. He nodded back at his alpha and slipped out the back door. Mikhail knew he’d follow at a distance and make sure Elise made it home all right. Then the alpha pinned them all with his golden gaze. “What the hell happened?”
Mikhail wanted to run after Elise, but he didn’t have that right. It left a bitter taste in his mouth that another man was seeing to her safety.
“I don’t know what happened,” Sylvie answered. “We had a wonderful time this morning. Aunt Elise was a bit preoccupied, but nothing more.” She looked to the other women for confirmation.
Rina nodded. “I agree. It seemed like she had something on her mind, but was otherwise fine.”
The change in Elise had been startling. All the vibrancy and life in her had disappeared in the blink of an eye. It was as though shutters had been drawn over her very soul, leaving only a faint reflection of what had been.
Then she’d all but fled.
It hit him like a bolt of lightning. God, he was stupid. It had to be because of what had happened between them this morning. The kiss had changed things. She was worried about his reaction to her in public. What’s more, she was worried about her reaction to him.
Gator suddenly slipped back inside and went to stand behind his wife. “Your mama went straight home,” he told Jacque. Then he frowned and rubbed his chin. “I don’ like this.” As always when he got stressed, Gator’s accent came out.
“Neither do I.” Jacque reached for Gwen’s hand and twined their fingers together. “I have not seen that expression on my mama’s face in years.” His expression hardened. “I will not have it.”
Mikhail didn’t blame Jacque for being angry. Hell, he was angry, too. But there was no way he could tell them he was the cause of it.
Elise had felt so threatened by his presence, she’d run away.
It hurt worse than anything he’d ever experienced in his life, and his wolf was none too happy with him just sitting here on his ass doing nothing. Only years of self-discipline kept him from doing something stupid. He sat and ate, even though the food tasted like sawdust in his mouth. Oh, he was sure it was good, but Elise’s leaving had cast a pall on the meal.
“I’m going to go talk to her,” Jacque announced. They’d finished eating, and the kids were off playing together in the other room, leaving the adults alone to talk.
Mikhail froze, ready to jump the alpha if he made a move to the door. He wanted to be the one to talk to Elise.
Gwen grabbed Jacque’s arm. “Leave her alone. Just for a few hours,” she added. “Maybe she needs some time alone.”
Jacque sucked in a breath and raked his fingers through his hair. It still surprised Mikhail how different this pack was. In his old pack, no one would have even attempted to stop the alpha, not even his mate.
“Until we eat this evening. No longer,” Jacque decreed.
“I agree. If Elise is no better by then, you should talk to her.” Gwen rubbed her mate’s shoulder. “I’ll get the boys.”
“Why don’t you leave them here,” Sylvie told her. “They can play with Etienne. Gator and I will watch them and bring them home later.”
“If you’re sure?” Gwen asked.
“Oui,” Gator added. “I think they are better off here.”
One corner of Jacque’s mouth kicked up. “You worried about me, Gator?”
“Me.” He put a hand to his chest. “Non, I just figured you might like some alone time with your wife. If I’m wrong—” He left the rest of his thought hanging.
Jacque laughed at his friend. “No, you’re not wrong. Come on, chère, before they change their mind.”
Gwen laughed and ducked under her mate’s arm. “I want to tell the boys we’re going first.”
“I’ll go with you.” Sylvie hooked her arm with Gwen’s and they left to check on their children.
Mikhail wanted them all to hurry up and leave so he could circle around and head to Elise’s house. To keep himself busy, he loaded the dishes into the dishwasher. By the time he was finished, almost everyone else had gone except for Gator. Sylvie had taken the children outside to play.
“Thanks for lunch,” Mikhail said to Gator.
“No problem.” The big man cocked his head to one side and studied Mikhail. “Be careful, mon ami.”
Mikhail went on alert but made sure to still appear outwardly relaxed. “I’m not sure what you mean.” Gator might act affable and social, but he wasn’t a man to be trifled with.
Gator sighed. “You know, you just don’t want to admit it.” He pointed a finger at Mikhail. “Hurt her, and I’ll kill you.”
Mikhail was glad Elise had such a fierce protector, even though he really wanted to slug Gator.
“Why didn’t you tell Jacque?” Keeping something like that from his alpha wasn’t like Gator. They were friends from way back. Even more than that, Gator was fiercely loyal.
“What do I really know?” he countered. “Miss Elise got quiet when you spoke with her. But that is not uncommon.” His gaze narrowed. “But I do not like the look in her eyes.”
“Neither do I.” Mikhail said nothing else and met Gator’s unflinching gaze. The tension mounted until Gator finally nodded. Mikhail opened the kitchen door and stepped out into the cold. It was time to talk with Elise.
Chapter Six
Elise didn’t know how long she sat curled up on the floor crying. All she knew was that her eyes were sore and puffy, her nose was running, and she had a headache. Her chest ached, and she felt old, old and worn out.
Before she could decide if she had the energy to get up and go to the bathroom or if she’d be forced to crawl, there was a knock on her back door.
She stayed completely still and tried not to breathe too heavily. Maybe whoever was out there wouldn’t hear her and would go away. She was very afraid it was one of her sons at the door. With her nose all stuffed up, she couldn’t smell who it was.
“Elise.” The voice wasn’t raised but pitched right for her to hear through the thick wooden panel.
She curled into a tighter ball. What was Mikhail doing here? He was the last person she wanted to see her like this. She was a total mess—physically and emotionally.
“Elise?” Mikhail was closer. Lost in her own self-pity, she hadn’t heard him enter her home. “Shit.” Strong arms wrapped around her, but she wouldn’t release her hold on her legs. He solved the problem by lifting her entire body off the floor and pulling her onto his lap.
He leaned his back against a wall and held her close. “What is it, baby? What’s wrong?”
His kindness, his caring set her off again. She’d thought she didn’t have any tears left inside after all she’d shed. She was wrong. Large sobs tore through her. Mikhail didn’t try to shush her or berate her into stopping. He simply held her and let her cry until the storm passed.
At some point, she lowered her arms from around her legs and slid them around his neck. Mikhail was so strong, so solid. Like a mountain that nothing or no one could ever displace. She needed th
at strength and leaned on it in her most vulnerable hour.
Finally, the tears stopped. Exhausted, she lay against his chest and allowed herself to be soothed by the heavy thump of his heart. Inside, her wolf whimpered and pawed, trying to give her comfort.
Mikhail didn’t speak, didn’t ask questions. He continued to rub one strong hand up and down her spine. The heat from his hand seeped through her clothes and warmed her in a way that was far deeper than physical.
“I ruined your shirt.” She clamped her mouth shut. Not what she’d meant to say at all, but it was the truth.
Some of her hair had escaped her bun, and he gently nudged the strands off her cheek. “What’s a few tears and a little snot between friends.”
His reply was so unexpected, she laughed.
“That’s what I like to hear.” He continued to stroke his fingers up and down her face. Then he sighed. “I’m sorry like hell if I hurt you, Elise. That’s the last thing I wanted to do.”
Was he apologizing? She raised her head, needing to see his face. His green eyes were filled with regret and sadness. Her chest ached and it got harder to breathe. She tried to suck air into her lungs, but it seemed to get caught in her throat.
“Shit.” Mikhail lifted her off him and scrambled to his knees. He positioned her so she was on her knees and slightly bent forward. “Everything is okay, baby. No one or nothing is going to hurt you.”
He put his big hands on either side of her face and forced her to look at him. “Believe me, Elise. Look at me. I’ll protect you. I promise. Now breathe with me.” He took a slow even breath. She tried to copy him and managed to get a slight bit of air into her lungs.
“Again,” he told her. She kept her eyes on his until they were all she could see. She sucked air into her lungs slowly and steadily until the ringing in her ears subsided and the heavy pounding of her heart eased.
“That’s it,” he praised. “Slow and steady.”
…
Mikhail was way out of his element. Let him be hanging off the side of a mountain in a blizzard, and he knew what to do. Let him lose a paddle while whitewater rafting down a treacherous river, and he could handle it. A crying woman left him feeling inept. And when that woman was Elise, the woman who held his heart, he was totally lost.
Her eyes were swollen, her nose was red, and her skin was blotchy. Her hair, which she kept so meticulously bundled up at the back of her head, was falling down in long strands around her face.
She was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She was also hurting. His heart swelled in his chest until it hurt. Elise was incredibly brave. She was also a wounded soul.
They continued to breathe together, and the color slowly came back into her face. She’d been so pale for a few minutes, he’d feared she might pass out for lack of oxygen. That had to have been a panic attack. He never wanted her to have one of those again. He might not survive it.
Her golden-brown eyes gradually lost their glassy look and he could see the knowledge of the situation seep back into them. He glimpsed shame and sorrow before she started to lower them.
“No.” He caught her chin in his hand and lifted her head. “You have nothing to be ashamed of.”
She licked her lips, and his cock immediately jumped to life. He almost groaned. Now was definitely not the time for him to get a boner. Elise was vulnerable. The last thing he wanted to do was add to her discomfort.
He rubbed his thumb across her lower lip. “I’m no expert, and God knows, I hate to see you cry, but better to get it out than to let it fester inside.”
“I need to wash my face.” She put one hand on the floor and started to push herself upright. Mikhail jumped to his feet and pulled her up with him.
She tried to pull away, but he wasn’t having it. He tucked one arm behind her knees and scooped her right off her feet. She gave a startled sound. “What are you doing?” She was breathless, and there was a touch of fear in her voice. He didn’t like it.
“Taking you to the bathroom.” What did she think he was going to do? Toss her on the bed, strip off her clothes, and rut on her?
He almost lost it when he realized that was exactly what she was expecting. Had her mate done such a thing? Of course he had, the bastard.
Mikhail was blind to everything but his thoughts about Elise. He didn’t even realize they were outside the bathroom door until she touched his arm. “You can put me down now.”
He did just that before he did something really stupid like taking her to bed. Not so they could have sex, but so he could hold her until the sick feeling in his gut passed.
“I could be a while,” she told him.
“I’ll be here.” No way in hell was he leaving her. Not until they talked this through.
She nodded and slowly shut the door. Mikhail placed one hand against the wood, hating that it was another layer of distance between them. He curled his fingers inward and pushed away.
He turned and got his first real view of her bedroom. This was Elise’s private domain. Sheer white curtains hung at the windows, allowing in light and giving the illusion of privacy. The bed was queen-size and covered with a white comforter edged in lace. The quilt that she’d had wrapped around her this morning was folded and sitting on the edge of the bed.
Drawn to it, he walked over and ran his fingers over it. The colors were pale and feminine—pink, cream, green, blue, and peach. He noticed the other little touches—a pale pink bench at the end of the bed, a chest of drawers painted white with glass knobs, and a wicker chair in the corner with throw pillows in colors that matched the quilt.
It was totally and utterly feminine. There wasn’t a hint of masculine anywhere.
And wasn’t that the point? Her mate had probably had everything his way in the years they’d been married, so it was only natural she’d swing totally the other way when she was designing a space for herself.
It suited her—intensely feminine without being too fussy. There were only a few extra pillows piled on the bed and the only lace was a thin band around the edge of her comforter. He really felt like the big bad wolf standing here in her room.
A smile tilted up the corners of his mouth. Damned if he didn’t like it.
She really needed something masculine to ground the space—see, watching all those decorating shows with his sister years ago had taught him something—and he was just the something masculine that was needed.
He heard water running in the bathroom and knew it was probably best if she didn’t find him in her room looking at her things. He quietly left the bedroom and headed to the kitchen. He didn’t know about Elise, but he needed coffee.
He brought up short when he saw the two apple pies sitting on the counter. She’d baked them this morning for their coffee date.
Mikhail squared his shoulders and went in search of coffee. He’d been promised coffee, pie, and conversation, and he was determined to get it. Her kitchen was organized—no surprise there—so it didn’t take him long to fill the coffeepot.
While he was waiting for it to brew and for Elise to come out of the bathroom, his gaze was drawn back to the floor just inside the door. If he lived another hundred years, he’d never forget the gut-wrenching sensation of walking in and finding Elise huddled there.
He’d heard her muffled sobs and had entered her home uninvited. He wouldn’t apologize for it. It was his job, his privilege to take care of her when she was hurt. Didn’t matter if the injury was physical or emotional.
The rest of her home, the public part, wasn’t as feminine as her bedroom. A dark brown sectional sofa was grouped around a large coffee table. It would be a nice place to sit and chat with family and friends. A woodstove sat along the wall and would give extra heat and ambiance on a cold winter’s day.
He shrugged and walked over to the stove. “Why the hell not?” he muttered. He’d grown up in Alaska and was very familiar with fireplaces and woodstoves. It took him no time at all to have a fire merrily crackling.
; He walked over the window and smiled at the window seat. He could easily imagine Elise curled up here reading or sewing or simply thinking. There were shelves on either end filled with books and baskets. Cozy pillows in chocolate brown, burnt orange, and red filled the cozy nook.
Strangely enough, he thought both rooms suited Elise. She was a complex woman with many sides. And he wanted to know all of them.
…
Elise knew she couldn’t hide in the bathroom much longer. She had no idea how long she’d been in here, but it was long enough for the worst of the swelling to go down around her eyes.
She blew her nose one final time and then splashed water on her face. She looked pale, but that wasn’t surprising. What was surprising was how calm she felt. But she was still a wreck. Her hair was falling down around her shoulders, and her top was wrinkled and felt grungy.
Sighing, she unpinned what remained of her bun. Her long, heavy hair uncoiled until it touched her behind. She picked up her brush and stroked the bristles through it. She loved her hair.
Her mother used to brush her hair for hours when she was a child. She had hair like her mother. Elise sighed and set the brush down on the vanity. Her mother had died too young in childbirth, along with a stillborn son. Her father had never been the same. Maybe he’d thought he was doing the right thing when he’d given her to Pierre to mate. Maybe he’d never had a choice.
She quickly braided her hair and left her temporary sanctuary, carefully opening the bathroom door and creeping into her bedroom. She didn’t want him coming in to look for her while she was changing. She was brought up short when she entered the room. Mikhail might not be in the room, but she could still smell him here.
His hot, warm scent was everywhere. Or maybe it was coming from her shirt and hair. He’d held her in his arms, touching her back and hair, soothing her while she’d cried in his arms. Elise couldn’t think about that. Not now. Not with him waiting for her. She owed him some kind of explanation for her behavior.
Wolf of her Own Page 5
