by Lizzy Prince
“I wouldn’t have hurt myself if you hadn’t snuck in my house. Why are you here?” I continue backing away, shuffling back to the oven to look at my turnovers. There may be an incredibly handsome jerk in my house, but I’m not about to forget about my pastry.
Silas only frowns and looks slightly confused. His dark blond hair is messy and tousled and entirely too long, which only makes me want to run my fingers through it.
“I wanted to see you,” he replies with a shrug, and I stare at him, knowing I have a stupefied look on my face. My oven mitt is in my hand, and I’m squeezing it like it’s offended my mom.
“Why?”
Silas chuckles, but it dies off quickly. An uncomfortable look skitters over his face. “Have I done something wrong?”
I gape at him, forgetting about the oven mitt I’m trying to pull on my hand as I prepare to take the turnovers out of the oven.
“Are you joking?” I’m so stunned that I can’t even work up the anger to feel incredulous. I’m just surprised into stupidity.
Silas steps back into my space, crowding me and making my breathing erratic, coming out in short pants. There is something about him that makes every inch of my skin vibrate, to glow with the need for his touch. It’s infuriating that I can’t get myself under control. His face is pained as he peers down at me, and he looks… remorseful. Or maybe I’m just attributing emotions to him that I wish he felt. His hand lifts, and he brushes back a lock of my hair, tucking it behind my ear. Sound disappears and then whooshes back into my ears with a thundering thump that matches my heartbeat.
The timer dings on the oven, and I blink rapidly as if waking from a spell. I wish I understood why he has the ability to overwhelm my senses like no one else I’ve ever met. Silas shakes his head as if waking up from a trance as well. At least this thing isn’t one-sided. Oh wait, it is, because he totally got a taste of the goods and walked away without a word. Oh, hello, anger, there you are. I was afraid the lust chased you away.
I take the turnovers out of the oven and drop them onto the stove a little harder than necessary. I’m about to tell Silas he should leave when he leans over me, caging me with his huge body. Just the minor contact of his chest brushing against my back has me swaying on my feet. He only stays there long enough to grab one of the cooled turnovers and presses a kiss to the crook of my neck before he moves away.
“I should go.” I spin and look at him, subtly shaking my head. What has all this been about? Why the hell did he even stop over? I watch as he takes a massive bite and closes his eyes with a moan as if it’s the best thing he’s ever eaten. It makes me want to smile, but I fight the impulse. Barely.
He’s smiling when he opens up his eyes. Mossy green orbs glittering with that flirtatious energy I used to love.
“You’re a magician,” he says before he pops the rest of the turnover in his mouth and starts walking backwards to the front door.
“I’ll leave you be. Stay safe, Bridget.” His voice is low, and there is a hint of a command to the words that sends shivers through me. In a good way that I want to be angry about.
With my thoughts too jumbled and scattered to think of a response, I just stare at him as he swiftly disappears from the house. Did I just dream the whole thing? If there wasn’t still a hint of his scent in the air—that fresh, crisp, outdoorsy scent—I might question my sanity.
I jump when there’s a knock at the front door a moment later, right before it swings open and Remi saunters in.
“Do people not wait to be let into houses anymore?” I grumble, knowing I sound grumpy. Remi always lets herself in, and she just raises her brows in question.
“Um, hello to you too. I just wanted to check and see if you were okay,” she says as she shuts the door and heads over to the kitchen to grab herself a turnover. She lifts it to her nose and inhales deeply. She smiles down at the thing like it’s given her a compliment or something, but then she smirks at me. “You took off kind of fast from Alarik’s. And that was after you disappeared for a while. Do you know who else disappeared?”
I hold up my hand to stop her and then start cleaning up my kitchen with a fury it doesn’t deserve. Remi moves over to the edge of the living room and sits on the couch on her knees, looking at me over the arm. The kitchen and living room are connected by a large opening that probably had pocket doors at some point in time, but they are long gone. Which suits me just fine. The house is too tiny to close off the kitchen and the living room.
“Stop staring at me.” I toss the washcloth into the sink and wash my hands to get rid of the flour and crumbs.
When she doesn’t say anything, I frown and turn back to look at Remi. I’m surprised by the serious look on her face. Remi’s usually all flippant and sarcastic, at least ninety percent of the time. I know that’s just her crusty outer shell, and there’s a fluffy bunny underneath, but she rarely lets that side of her show.
I start nibbling on my lip as she looks a little lost in her thoughts. She blinks at me as she takes a small bit of the turnover that’s still in her hand and swallows before she answers.
“I’m going to be serious for one second, then I’ll go back to being snarky.”
I snort, and Remi smiles at me, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “What are you and Silas doing, Bridget?”
Like a balloon getting let go before it’s been tied off, I deflate and then shrug. And then shake my head, shuffling into the living room to flop down on the couch next to Remi.
“I don’t know,” I groan, covering my face with my hands.
“Listen, I just want you to be careful with him, okay? It seems like he really likes you.”
I make a disbelieving sound, but Remi punches my leg. “Listen to me. Despite whatever the hell happened that first time you guys did it, I think he really does like you. There’s just something about this that’s setting off my radar.”
Turning on the couch to face her, I squish my face up in question. “Like you think he’s going to hurt me or something?”
“Well I already know the bastard hurt you, and that’s part of it. He doesn't seem like that kind of guy. Although, he obviously needs a solid kick to the nards because he’s fucking up like it’s his job.”
“Not helping,” I growl, because I don’t want to think about how Silas keeps stringing me along.
“Bridge, I honestly get the sense that he’s into you. And whatever he keeps doing… I don’t know… he just doesn’t seem the type to play games. And that’s why this all feels off. Wrong somehow. I see that way he looks at you, Bridget. You might have thought no one noticed you’ve been in love with him since you moved to town, but I did, and he looks at you the same way.”
“Why are you defending him?” I stare at her curiously, and she rolls her eyes at me.
“I’m not. You need someone to TP his house or leave flaming dog poop on his front porch, I’m down. I’ll kick his ass. Only metaphorically though. He’s massive.”
I laugh and start braiding my hair, a nervous habit when I fidget and don’t know what to do with my hands. “No need for any of that.”
“Don’t ever doubt that I’ve got your back, Bridge. It’s just… something tells me there’s more to all this than the obvious.”
I want to believe her instinct, mostly because I want it to be true. But I’m scared to hope. I don’t want to set myself up for heartbreak again. I’ve spent the last year miserable, all while trying to put on a happy face. But my heart’s been an aching mess inside my chest. A pang of longing strikes like a bolt of lightning straight into my heart, and I startle when I hear a wolf howling outside. The sound is far too close.
I give Remi a curious look. “Do we have wolves around here?”
Remi just laughs. “Oh, Bridge. I think we need to have a little talk.”
“Silas is a wolf. And Dante is a demon?” I know we just held a seance at Alarik’s house for my friend who can see ghosts, but I feel like an idiot. “How did I not know any of this? How did you kno
w this?”
Remi’s eating another one of the apple turnovers, and she pats her belly contentedly like it’s a baby. “Bridget, I’m actually shocked you hadn’t figured it out by now. This whole town is full of supernatural beings.”
I gape at her as my mind flashes through random memories of the town and all the weird things I’ve written off as quirky since I moved here. There was that time I thought I saw someone disappear off the street in front of me, and another time when I saw two people making out on a bench and could have sworn I saw blood. “Are there vampires?”
“You’re taking this surprisingly well for having ignored it for so long.”
“Don’t make me feel dumb. Just because I’m gullible doesn’t mean I’m stupid. I’m just too trusting, obviously. How could you have not told me all this?” I slap her shoulder, uncertain if I’m more annoyed with her or myself. The wolf howls again outside the house, and this time I wonder if I know who it is.
“Silas.”
Chapter Ten
Silas
I’m not sure what impulse prompted me to go to Bridget’s house—well, broke in would be more accurate—but this instinctual need to make sure she’s okay keeps surfacing. It keeps pushing me to watch her, protect her, to be near her. Even though I’m the one who’s apparently upsetting her. I haven’t had a chance to figure out what the hell I’ve done, though. I’m too easily distracted by all that gorgeous auburn hair tumbling over her shoulders and her sweet, mouthwatering scent that makes me want to feast on every part of her. I’d grabbed one of her little pies instead of sinking my teeth into her neck and marking her like I wanted to. Which is confusing the hell out of me.
She’s not my mate. If she is, I would know. I would have known the first time I touched her. While there’s always that familiarity when I see her, the lust and the need to touch her, I’ve never had that flash of recognition that she’s my fated mate. My wolf is always close to the surface when she’s around. He wants to be near her, to protect her and keep her close. It’s just one more thing that confuses me. My wolf has never acted this way toward any woman. If she isn’t my mate, why does it feel like I need her so much?
I heard Remi approaching Bridget’s house moments before I caught her odd scent. I don’t know what her cousin is, but she’s not completely human. It doesn’t really matter because I know Remi’s trustworthy and loyal as hell, regardless of what she is. But there’s definitely something other in her DNA.
Quickly deciding I don’t want to deal with whatever Remi is about to dish out, I make my exit before Bridget has a chance to figure out I’m leaving. It’s better that way. Otherwise, I’ll probably toss her down on her counter and fuck her until neither of us can think straight. As amazing as that visual is, I don’t need Remi walking in on that. Plus, I don’t want to push Bridget. Whatever I’ve done to piss her off is important to her, and I need to tread carefully as I figure out how to fix it.
I drove over to Bridget’s since I couldn’t exactly show up naked on her front porch. Now I’m regretting it, because my wolf and I both want to run, but I have to drop off the damn car first. Making it home in record time, I don’t bother going inside before I strip, leaving my clothes in a heap by the door of my 4Runner. I’m shifted and running before human eyes can blink.
Letting my wolf take the lead, I don’t even realize where I’m going until I’m almost back at Bridget’s house. I scent the air and can tell that Remi is still inside with Bridget, but I don’t pick up any other smells around the house that shouldn’t be there. Roaming around the house to make sure everything is safe, I settle under the tree in Bridget’s front yard. If anyone happens to drive by, they might shit their pants to see a huge-ass wolf camped out in the middle of town. That’s if they even saw me. I’m mostly blocked by the tree.
I want to be inside the house, in the glow of the warm light filtering out of the windows like an invitation. There is comfort to be found in there. A sharp stab of longing pierces my heart, and I howl up at the moon, needing some way to release the overwhelming emotion. I begin to pace and internally fight my wolf who keeps trying to get us inside.
Deciding I need to leave before I break down Bridget’s door, I bound away, dashing through the woods as quickly as I can. All I can do is hope to wear out some of the frantic energy surging through me. But all I feel is a distinct warning that I’m going the wrong way. I should be moving closer to Bridget, not farther away.
By the time I get home, I’m no better off. Picking up my clothes where I left them, I pull on my pants as I head inside my house. I’m still restless, but I can’t sit around outside Bridget’s house all night. I might be losing my mind, but I’m not that much of a stalker. Usually. Lately, that’s debatable.
I lay on the couch, throwing my arm over my eyes to ward off the headache throbbing between my eyes. The only sound in the house is the occasional hum of the heater kicking on. Outside, I can hear the chattering of squirrels and the occasional hoot of an owl. It’s quiet tonight, and that only emphasizes how busy my brain is trying to cycle through everything weighing me down.
There’s Bridget and all the questions that surround her. Then there’s the wolf that hired out the rogue vamps to kidnap the witch. Which one of my wolves would do that? And why would they need to? I’ve never known anyone in my pack who doesn’t feel comfortable coming to me for help. What reason would one of my wolves have to kidnap a witch? Pain ricochets around my skull as I consider who would betray me.
“Taking a nap?” a familiar voice calls out from the front door, a blast of cold air sweeping in where Vic has it propped open.
“I’d accuse you of being raised in a barn, but I know your mom and wouldn’t discredit her like that. Get the fuck in and shut the door or leave,” I growl at my second Beta. Not that I’m cold. Despite the fact that wolves run hotter than humans that doesn’t mean I don’t have manners.
“Just wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to get my throat ripped out before I came in.”
I sit up, swinging my legs to the ground as I settle back into the couch pillows. “Why would I be at your throat?”
Vic shuts the door and saunters into the room. His shrewd eyes scan my prone form, assessing my obvious agitation. Vic’s an uptight control freak, and he makes sure things stay organized. He also knows just about all there is to know about each member of the pack. He’s much better at the back-office bullshit than either Dylan and I care to manage. Vic’s not as much of a people person and doesn’t have the patience to deal with most pack politics. That’s not to say he isn’t completely dedicated to our pack. He’s just much better suited as a Beta than an Alpha.
“Dylan told me you were in a pissy mood,” Vic says as he sits down in a chair and crosses his ankle over his knee, looking deceptively casual. If I didn’t know him better, I’d think he was relaxed and settling in for a chat, but Vic isn’t one for wasting time.
“She said she thought some girl had you all messed up.” He cuts to the chase, and I sense he’s fishing for information.
“What are you my grandma?” I sneer. Wolves are notoriously up in each other’s business. It’s a family, and like most families, you love them and get easily irritated with their meddling. And for a wolf, nothing is as monumental as finding your mate. Not only does it make a wolf feel complete, but it also enhances your strength, agility, basically every benefit of being a wolf gets amped up.
“Maybe. I was just wondering if you think you’ve found her.” There’s a light of interest firing behind the quizzical look in Vic’s eyes.
“Nosy fucks,” I mutter, scrubbing my hand over my face and then running it through my hair. I really need a haircut. The golden strands are almost to my shoulders.
“And no. I haven’t found her. Dylan talks too much. There’s just some shit going on with Alarik that’s distracting. Not to mention everything Killian’s dealing with. Seriously, everyone needs to get their shit together.” Most of all, me. I lift my arm back up to cover m
y eyes, ignoring Vic and groaning out my frustration.
Chapter Eleven
Bridget
I’m trying to push away the feeling of disappointment that keeps threatening to infect my day. Foolishly, I thought Silas might stop into the bakery to see me, but I’m already closing up for the day, and my anger is mounting with each closing task that I finish. I wipe down the counters so hard that I’ve probably worn the shine off. I feel like an idiot for hoping—no, wanting—him to come see me.
The night before was spent tossing and turning as I dissected every encounter I’ve had with Silas. It’s become a sick obsession, and I don’t know how to stop myself from thinking about him. Each time I see him is like a twisted reminder to my heart, stabbing that knife a little deeper with every look, each suggestion of a touch. He’s got me so wound up I don’t know how I’m even functioning at this point.
With a frustrated sigh, I shove the cleaning supplies back in the closet and grab my coat and bag. Locking up the store, I shiver when a frigid breeze barrels down the street, cutting right through the warm wool of my jacket. Buttoning up with fingers that are quickly getting stiff with the cold, I happen to look down the street and see Remi nearly get hit by a car as she runs across the street.
What the hell is she doing? She’s heading into work, Hazel’s store House of Spirits, but she looks confused. I hurry up the street, hoping she doesn’t walk away before I get a chance to talk to her, but stop when I see her approach Alarik. He’s gesturing furiously and then takes off running with Remi hot on his heels. I stupidly stand there, unsure of what's going on. Their frantic movements have me frozen in place when I should be running after them.
