Wolf's Secret (Alpha's Hunger Book 2)

by Carina Wilder

  “I’m…fine,” I said, quickly scanning my mind in search of a way to divert the path of the conversation. “How’s your new job?”

  “Amazing.” The next half hour consisted of James explaining to me the intricacies of open-heart surgery, the beautiful, state-of-the-art facilities at his new hospital, and how excited he was to be performing a quadruple bypass the following day. Every now and then, Clarissa would throw me an apologetic look over her shoulder as if she was sorry I’d gotten her fiancé talking about his passion for slicing people open and poking around at their inner workings.

  But I was grateful for it. Whether intentional or not, he’d managed to take my mind off Tristan, at least for a little. Funny how hearing about someone tearing open a person’s chest could actually be relaxing.

  When we finally pulled up to their enormous house in the suburbs, I let out a low whistle. “Quite a place you’ve got here,” I said. It was a huge, immaculate-looking home, complete with two-car garage, giant windows and picture-perfect landscaping.

  “Thanks!” said James. “We’re happy with it.”

  “It’s not exactly a billionaire’s residence,” Clarissa said, “but it’ll do.”

  “Have you been working on the garden?” I asked, hoping to shy away from the not-so-subtle reference to Tristan.

  Clarissa laughed. “God, no. My years living in tiny apartments in New York mean everything I touch dies. I can’t even remember how to identify a weed. Which is my way of saying we hired gardeners. Who knows, maybe someday I’ll learn to do it myself.”

  “Ah,” I said, offering up a weak smile.

  As we walked up the front steps, a sudden pang of sadness hit me. I was about to head into the new, happy home of a couple who planned to stay together forever. A couple whose greatest difficulty consisted of deciding what sorts of perennials to plant in their front garden. They had everything they could possibly want or need. Their lives were normal. They were damn near perfect.

  I couldn’t help but think that no matter what happened, I would never be able to find what Clarissa and James had. Maybe I could have found something close to it with Tristan, but that ship had sailed.

  The fact was, I’d probably be alone forever now. There was no way I could ever settle for some regular Joe, not after having had a taste of the sexy, powerful man. I wasn’t sure how I’d ever so much as look at a man again without feeling like my heart had been torn out by the fangs of a wolf.

  When we were inside, James headed straight for his office at the back of the house and Clarissa guided me upstairs to a secluded bedroom at the end of the hall.

  “This is your sanctuary as long as you want it,” she said. “Make yourself at home. Help yourself to food, coffee, whatever you need. If you want to be left alone, it’s all good. I get it. You’re not here for a social call.”

  Wordlessly, I threw my arms around her neck, squeezing tight as I pressed my face into her shoulder. “I don’t know what I’d do without you right now, Clar,” I said.

  “Well, the good news is, you don’t have to even think about that,” she answered softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  When I’d pulled away, she guided me over to the bed and sat me down, perching herself next to me.

  “What really happened with Tristan?” she asked, her tone direct.

  I stared at her, wishing I could possibly explain, that I could even begin to tell her what Tristan was, what his brother was. The drama of last night, the madness of seeing a dragon flying through the night sky. But if I did, she’d sprint downstairs screaming, tell James that I’d gone insane, and the next thing I knew I’d be locked up in the psychiatric wing of his hospital.

  “Tristan and I…have some trust issues,” I said. “Trust issues that we can’t seem to get past.”

  “Ah. Is it because of all his exes?” she asked. Of course. The only Tristan Wolfe she really knew was the one the tabloids used to write about. The guy who dated supermodels and movie stars. Not the man I’d come to know.

  I let out a cynical laugh. “Sort of,” I said. “Let’s just say there’s a lot that he doesn’t tell me. Combine that with the fact that I have trouble trusting anyone enough to open myself up, and I guess we’re the perfect storm of reticence. We’re a disaster. At least, we were.”

  “So you’ve really broken up?” she asked, cocking her head to the side with that horrible sympathetic look that people give you when they’re feeling really sorry for you.

  “Yes,” I said. “No. I don’t know. I can’t imagine, after last night, that there’s any future for us. He said some pretty ugly things.” I felt my voice tighten with the memory of the abject rage that had all but consumed him as he’d broken me down. “I’m not sure how we could ever fix what’s broken, to be honest.”

  “I’m really sorry.” Clarissa squeezed my hand and rose to her feet. “Listen, I know you’re exhausted, so I should leave you alone,” she said. “Cry all you want. Punch the pillows. Do what you need to. If you want, we can get drunk later and talk some more.”

  “Thanks,” I said, throwing her the most grateful smile I could muster. “I promise I won’t stay long. I just had to escape from my life, you know?”

  “I know.” She played with the hem of her shirt for a second before adding, “You know, I don’t think I ever told you, but one time James and I had a big fight. I took off for my parents’ house in the country. I thought we were over, too. It happens.”

  “You never told me,” I said. “I guess it ended up okay, though.” I gestured to the space around us. “Obviously.”

  She nodded. “Yeah. It was stupid. The thing is, sometimes people just get pissed off for no good reason. Sometimes it’s their own insecurity talking. Maybe that’s all this is, between you and Tristan.”

  “I wish,” I said, recalling the icy look in those wolf eyes of his. “I’m not sure that man has an insecure bone in his body. Though if he did, he’d never admit it to me anyhow.”

  “Well, let me know if you need anything. Hey—maybe tomorrow we could go by James’ work and you can see what my future husband does for a living.”

  “Actually, I’d like that. I’ve been curious about his hospital. It was sort of nice hearing him talk about it. I could use the distraction, anyhow.”

  Clarissa rolled her eyes. “Oh, if you ever want to hear more, he’ll tell you. For hours and hours. Days, even.”

  When she’d left the room I lay down, letting my head sink into the pillow. I felt like someone had come along with a giant spoon and hollowed out my insides, leaving a chasm somewhere deep in my body. An emptiness that nothing could ever fill.

  I shut my eyes, exhausted, and slowly let sleep overtake me. It was my only escape. My only refuge.

  If only I could sleep forever.

  Clarissa knocked on my door at eight the next morning. “Sorry to wake you so early,” she said. “But I really do want to bring you to the hospital to see James doing his thing. It would be good for you to get out of this place and see a bit of the Windy City, anyhow. I know you—you’ll languish in bed all day if I don’t drag you away.”

  “You’re right,” I said, rubbing my eyes, forcing away the thoughts of Tristan that had woken me up several times during the night. “Sounds good.”

  Clarissa leaned against the door frame, frowning at me skeptically. “You sure? You can stay here if you really want to. I’m not really going to force you.”

  “I know,” I said, leaping out of bed, still dressed in the outfit I’d been wearing the previous afternoon. “Just let me have a shower and throw some fresh clothes on, then I’ll be good to go, I promise.”

  She threw me a look that said she didn’t entirely believe me, then left me to my devices.

  Twenty minutes later, we were barreling down the road towards James’ hospital, which turned out to be as beautiful as he’d described. The building had been newly renovated—paid for by some massive corporation, no doubt. Original works of art hung along the walls, refl
ected dimly in shining, marble floors. The ceilings in the hallways were lined with elegant hanging lamps, not the horrible old fluorescent things that illuminate most hospitals.

  As we walked down the hall to his office I wondered who was in charge of cleaning the place, because there wasn’t a speck of dust or a fingerprint to be seen.

  “Isn’t it nice?” Clarissa asked me. Apparently she was as proud of the building as her husband was.

  I nodded like a mindless zombie. Every second was a battle in my brain to stop fixating on Tristan, on my loss, on my messed-up, stupid life. “It’s very nice,” I said, my voice strained with the effort.

  Clarissa reached out and squeezed my arm sympathetically, but didn’t say anything more.

  James guided us to a sort of lounge, where two brown leather arm chairs and a giant sofa greeted us invitingly.

  “You two should wait here until you get called in,” he said.

  “Called in for what?” I asked.

  “To view,” Clarissa replied with a grin.

  “View?” It only hit me as I asked the question that he literally wanted us to watch him perform open-heart surgery. The thought of it both intrigued and horrified me. To watch someone else’s broken heart being mended seemed oddly apt right now, but I wasn’t quite sure I could take it. “Oh, crap,” I muttered.

  “You don’t have to,” Clarissa said. “We can just go down and have a cappuccino in the lounge if you’d prefer, then go home. James will be in the operating room for hours.”

  “That actually sounds a little better to me,” I confessed. “If I weren’t such a mess, I’d probably be totally into the surgery. But not today. I’ve had enough of people’s hearts being tampered with.”

  Clarissa guided me to a large cafeteria-like room, which was apparently for hospital staff and their spouses. Like the rest of the place, it was pristine and beautiful. Sleek lines, stainless steel everywhere, elegant Italian coffee machines.

  “Better?” my friend asked as we sat down with a couple of steaming drinks.

  “So much better,” I sighed, resting my elbows on the table.

  “Good. So now maybe you can tell me what’s really going on,” she said, fixing me with a hard gaze. “There’s more to all this than just a fight between you and your boyfriend. I know you, Ari. You’re afraid of something.”

  “Afraid?” I asked, trying to sound naive. She was right, of course. I was afraid of a lot. But it wasn’t as if it was anything I could tell her about.

  “Yes. Afraid. Like you’re worried that something might happen that’s beyond your control.”

  “I…”

  But she didn’t let me finish my protest. “You’re worried about Tristan, aren’t you? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were scared that he’s going to die or something.”

  She was more right than she knew. As much as it hurt to know that our love affair had ended, the truth was that I had no idea if Krane would confront Tristan again. No idea what was going to happen between them, if the dragon shifter would go after my former lover with more than mere words.

  Yes, I was angry at Tristan. I was hurt. I felt guilty, too. But the last thing I wanted was for him and his brother to get embroiled in a rage battle and for one of them to get seriously hurt, or worse.

  Still, how the hell could I possibly explain any of it to Clarissa?

  I opened my mouth to speak, to come up with something approaching an explanation, any excuse I could muster. But just as my jaw dropped open, my eyes veered to the window, attracted by a distant movement. Something was floating just above the horizon, making its way over Chicago’s skyline towards us, and with every second it was growing larger.

  It seemed that a low-flying helicopter was fast approaching the hospital.

  “Must be an emergency,” Clarissa said when she’d turned to see what I was staring at. “I guess someone’s getting airlifted in.” Her brow scrunched in confusion. “But that’s weird—the helicopter they usually use is orange.”

  “Uh-huh.” I nodded absently. Something inside me was starting to feel queasy. Nervous, excited. Like that chopper had something to do with me, or with a fate that I hadn’t yet grasped.

  It was only when it came closer that I caught sight of the large capital letters on its side that spelled out:

  WOLFE

  Clarissa inhaled a gasp and spun back to look at me, her jaw dropping. “Um, Ari,” she said, “I think your boyfriend is here.”

  “What the actual f…” I started, rising to my feet. I wasn’t sure if I should run towards the helicopter or away from it. All I knew was that I wanted to throw up.

  “Are you okay?” Clarissa asked.

  I nodded. “I think I’m going to be just fine,” I said, moving to the window to watch.

  When the chopper had landed, Tristan leaped out, dressed in one of his perfectly-fitting suits, his white shirt open at the collar. “Holy crap,” Clarissa said as she moved to stand next to me, “I’d almost forgotten how hot he is.”

  “I hadn’t,” I sighed.

  He strode along with a confidence that all but made him look arrogant. Despite the layers of clothing, his slim, muscular build was evident even from a distance.

  The man was a god…and apparently the god had come to find me.

  Just then, Tristan shot a look in our direction. Even from this distance I could see the shocking blue of his eyes. I knew perfectly well that he’d seen me. I wondered for a moment if he could smell my excitement on the air.

  He looked determined, like a man on a mission. The question was, what mission? Had he come to ask my forgiveness or to yell at me again?

  Because if the answer was the second one, he could go to hell.

  Chapter 15

  A few minutes later one of the hospital’s employees, a young woman dressed in light blue scrubs, came to find me.

  “Miss Clarke?” she said.

  I nodded.

  “Mr. Wolfe would like to see you in his private quarters in the administrative wing.”

  “What?” I asked, choking on the word. Clarissa let out a sound that told me she was equally baffled. How the hell did Tristan have private quarters in a Chicago hospital?

  “Come with me,” the young woman said, nodding her head ever so slightly as if to give me a secret signal. Confused, I peered into her eyes, only to notice the slightest hint of gold speckled in her irises. So, she was a Lesser, like Marcus. Apparently she was also under Tristan’s employ.

  My lover had a broader reach than I’d known.

  “Did he pay for this hospital or something?” Clarissa said, walking by my side as we followed. “I don’t understand any of this.”

  “Neither do I,” I replied under my breath, doing my best to gain control over my shaking limbs and chattering teeth. “I’m as in the dark about this as you are.”

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about him, isn’t there?” Clarissa said. “Jeez, I’m beginning to understand your trust issues.”

  I nodded again. “Don’t get me started on that topic.”

  The hospital employee brought us to another room with a very expensive-looking couch and a couple of comfortable-looking chairs set up on top of a lavish oriental rug. No desk, though. This wasn’t exactly an administrative office. Clearly it was set up for informal meetings with VIPs.

  “Mr. Wolfe will be here in a moment,” the woman said before shutting the door and leaving.

  “Should I stay?” Clarissa asked. “You two will want to be alone.”

  “Don’t go just yet, I want you here. Until he gets here, I mean. I need you to give me strength, or I’ll freak out and run away.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Thirty seconds later the door opened. Tristan came walking in, the look on his face cold, unreadable. He looked at Clarissa for a few seconds before extending a hand. “Tristan Wolfe,” he said as she shook it, a confused look on her face. “You must be Clarissa. I remember you from Carlotta’s that night in Manhatt
an.”

  The way he said that night sent a surge of heat through me, as if the evening we’d first met were as significant to him as it was to me. Maybe things between us weren’t totally hopeless after all.

  “Yes, that’s right,” she said, “and you’re the guy who was a total douche-nozzle to my best friend on Saturday night.”

  “Clarissa!” I shot out, surprised, embarrassed, yet proud of her for defending me.

  “It’s fine,” Tristan said, chuckling. “I deserve it, and much worse. I was more than a douche-nozzle.” He turned my way. “I came here to apologize to you.”

  Suddenly I needed to sit down. My body collapsed into one of the chairs, my mouth dropping open in surprise and relief. Tristan and apology weren’t two words that sprang up together in my mind. Ever.

  “Good,” Clarissa said. “You’d better apologize. Anyhow, I’ll leave you to it.” With that, she stepped out of the room and closed the door behind her.

  I stared at the floor, my insides churning with confusion. I didn’t know what to do; the last thing I wanted was to talk to Tristan. And yet it was also the only thing I wanted.

  “Now that I’ve said I’m sorry, are you going to apologize properly for what you did to me?” he asked when he’d eased into the couch opposite my chair.

  Pulling my eyes defiantly to his, I let out a laugh. “Excuse me?” I asked. “Are you serious right now?”

  “You put me through hell, Ariana. What you did was nothing short of cruel, not to mention irresponsible as hell.”

  “What exactly did I do, aside from not telling you about seeing Krane?”

  “Oh, come on,” he growled. “My brother was about to tear your dress off at the ball. You were loving every second of it.”

  “Wait, what?” I leapt to my feet, all but shouting at him. “You think I liked what he was doing to me? You have no idea. Clearly you don’t know me at all, if you think it’s your brother I care about.”