by Lizzy Prince
“I don’t know. The legends really only talk about that first connection. I’m sorry.”
I swallow around a lump in my throat because I feel like I’ve hurt her once again. But she slowly looks at me and tries to give me a brave smile. Which only makes me want to hold her. So I do. I pluck her from where she’s sitting on the bed and settle her in my lap, wrapping my arms in a loose hold around her body. For a second, I think she’s going to scramble off me and tell me to get my hands off her, but after a brief pause, she sighs and sinks into me. Her head is tucked against my chest, and I rest my chin lightly on top of it. Holding her like this has more of an effect on me than any other touch I’ve felt from her so far. I close my eyes and breathe in her sweet scent, relaxing as some of the anger and frustration starts to seep out of me.
We sit, softly tangled in our embrace, and soak in the contact. Bridget’s breathing is slow and steady, making me think she’s fallen asleep. But then her voice weaves through the quiet, sounding sleepy and quiet. “Who’s Corbin?”
I press a kiss to the top of her head and sigh. “He’s a master manipulator. Alarik’s probably had the most run-ins with him. I know that Alarik’s maker, Maddock, isn’t a particular favorite of Corbin’s. Basically, any supernatural being with any amount of power has had some kind of run-in with Corbin. He’s a manipulative son of a bitch, always looking for new ways to manipulate others. He likes to find those weaker than him and get them under his thumb, and he uses them to do his dirty work so he can stay above it all.”
Bridget’s hands slowly move from her lap to my chest as I explain, until one rests near my heart, and the other snakes around my side. Her hand hesitates before she slips it under my shirt to touch my bare skin. Having her in this close, after it feels like we’ve been doing this push and pull for an eternity, is a relief. It’s torture at the same time.
“You say this like you’ve had a personal experience?” she asks, the warmth of her breath permeating the cloth of my shirt. My wolf is very pleased with our current situation, but the longer she’s on my lap, the more trouble I’m having keeping things from escalating. My hands want to move up and down her body, exploring, touching, caressing, but I know Bridget has questions she needs answered before anything like that happens.
“One of my Betas knows him.” I smile when she frowns a little, but she doesn’t stop to ask the question I know she wants to. “My Betas are the second in command. I happen to have two, but Dylan, you met her, she used to run with another pack. Her old Alpha had some very antiquated ideas about how his pack should be ran. Dylan told me a lot about Corbin and how he was constantly around her old Alpha. Whispering in his ear, prompting him to make certain decisions. It’s never overtly apparent what his intentions are, but I, personally, think he’s foul and wants to destroy anything good around him.”
“But Dylan got away?” Bridget asks, and I nod, giving in to my desire to move my hand up her back and to her hair.
“She did. She heard that my pack was different from hers and came to beg for sanctuary.”
Bridget’s head shifts so she can see my eyes as I run my fingers through the long strands of her hair.
“You offered her a safe place? And protected her?” There’s no jealousy in her voice, not that there would be any reason for it. She seems more pleased that I would help someone in need than interested in anything else.
“I protect my pack. I protect what’s mine,” I murmur as I gently massage her scalp, and her eyelids flutter closed. Her mouth is parted in a perfect invitation, and it’s too hard to fight the need to bend down to taste her.
The first kiss is slow, drugging, as if there’s no rush and we have all night to learn one another’s secrets. Her lips are a lush invitation, and I’m so far gone for her that I can’t stop brushing my mouth against hers, licking, tasting, nipping in an endless exploration. I groan when she sucks on my bottom lip as the hands on my side find the edges of my shirt, shifting it up to lightly touch my bare skin. It’s such a gentle touch, but it’s too much, and it tips me over the edge of control.
With too much force, my hands grip her waist, and I shift her until she’s straddling my hips instead of sitting across my thighs. But Bridget doesn’t seem to mind my rough movements, if the flush creeping up her neck and her soft, fast pants are any indication. No, she’s turned on by my need, by her own need. Her arms twine around my neck, and she grabs the back of my head. Strong fingers dig into my nape as she pulls me closer to her, intensifying the kiss as she molds her body to mine. My hands are everywhere on her body, sliding up her back, then back down to grab her lush ass. I squeeze, and she moans, grinding against my aching cock. I guide her, my hands moving her hips while my soft grunts and animalistic sounds let her know I like what she’s doing.
Bridget breaks the kiss with a pant, and her head falls back, her long hair brushing against my thighs. She looks like a goddess, all flushed cheeks and glowing skin. I want to worship at her feet.
Her eyes find mine as my hands slide down to rest on her thighs. There’s a war raging in both of us. Stopping is a necessity, but then again, so is the need to never stop touching her, tasting her. A million questions and doubts swirl around in Bridget’s eyes as she studies my face. I want to ease her fears, but I don’t know the answers to those questions myself. I hate the feeling.
“This is a bad idea, huh?” Bridget's arms are still wrapped around my neck, but she lets them fall to her sides. I slide my hands up their length and then splay them over her back, urging her to lean into me. It’s kind of a hug, but with her delectable ass on my aching dick, it’s a lot less innocent than it needs to be.
“I only have so much control. I don’t want to forget again. I can’t, Bridget. We will figure out how to break this damn curse.”
A muffled “okay,” is said against my chest, and I tighten my hold on her, just needing her to be close if that’s all I can have for now.
There’s a noise in the other room of the front door opening, and a few seconds later, I hear Remi calling out, “Bridget. Where are you, hooker?” and we both freeze.
“She’s so timid,” I joke, and Bridget lifts her head up, cocking an eyebrow at me.
“She’s like a delicate flower.”
“So I’ve observed.” I chuckle and then groan when Bridget scoots off me, somehow managing to drag her ass over my still-hard dick in the process.
“Come on, Cupcake. Let’s go see what Remi wants.”
“Cupcake?” I grunt as I follow her out of the room, the sound of her laughter trailing behind her as she makes her way downstairs.
Chapter Sixteen
Silas
Leaving Bridget’s place feels wrong. I would have stayed at her side all night, just holding her. Hell, even watching over her while she slept would have been enough. Remi had other ideas. She practically kicked me out of the house, telling me that I had other shit I needed to figure out and she was going to spend time with Bridget. I have no idea if Remi really knows anything, but she’s not wrong. I do need to figure out how I’m going to break this curse.
Based on what Killian and Hollis told us, I have few things to look into. I doubt Killian and his little witch have made any progress finding someone who can break the curse, considering it’s only been a few hours since we left them. That doesn’t matter anyway. I’m not leaving my fate in someone else's hands.
My front door is unlocked, as it always is, but I’m still surprised to see Vic in my kitchen. We had no plans to meet, and it’s not like he was expecting me home.
I raise a brow as I shut the door behind me. “What are you doing here, Vic?”
Heading straight for the oversized chair in the living room, I flop down, feeling tired now that I’m back at my own house. It’s been a few nights since I’ve had a good night’s sleep, longer if I really stop and think about it.
“I was waiting for you. Where’ve you been?” Vic circles the large kitchen island and pulls out a stool, casually sitting o
n it as he tilts his head. His nostrils flare, just the slightest. Why is he trying to scent me? Is he trying to figure out who I’ve been with? Something about his actions set off warning bells, but I don’t know why. I’ve known Vic for years. He’s been my Beta for so long I can barely recall a time when he hasn’t been by my side.
“Why so curious?” I kick off my shoes and prop my feet up on the coffee table, crossing my arms as I lean back into the chair. I really could use a nap. My lids slide down, making it appear as though I’m close to falling asleep, but really, I’m giving Vic a casual once over. I’m just now noticing that he looks bigger, like he’s put on some bulk. Which is odd, because wolves don’t just add muscle mass. When we come of age and freeze into our immortality, it’s sort of a done deal. That’s… odd.
“Why so cryptic, Silas? Is there something you want to share with your Beta?” He grins at me, levity and good-natured ribbing evident in the words. It doesn’t mask the hostility in his eyes, that he fails to fully hide.
“I don't have much to share. Except, I heard a rumor that Corbin Macek has been meddling in some wolf affairs.” I offer him this little tidbit feeling the need to test him. My wolf is prowling beneath my skin, warning me that something’s not right. I notice the almost-imperceptible tightening of Vic’s shoulders. Most people would have missed it, but I’m not some nobody off the street. There is a reason I’m Alpha of my pack.
“Really? Why would Corbin be involved in any way with pack business? That seems almost too strange to consider.” Vic slides off the stool and starts heading toward the front door. Apparently, he’s done with the interrogation now.
“That’s a good question. Any updates you need to share with me?” I ask him casually, keeping my posture as relaxed as possible while everything inside of me is tightly coiled.
“Nothing new. I’ll keep you posted on any new information that comes my way.”
“Be sure to do that, Vic,” I call out as he takes his leave and swiftly shuts the front door behind him.
I wait a few minutes, listening for Vic’s footsteps to get far enough away that I can no longer hear them before I hop up. Heading toward my kitchen, I look around, seeing nothing out of place. I move into my office, but it’s always a mess of papers and books, so I have no idea if something is amiss in here. Dylan might know more than I would. She’s meticulous in everything she does, and my messy office drives her mad. Still, she'd know if anything is missing.
I wander back out into the living room and tip my head back, inhaling deeply to see if there are any other smells in my home that don’t belong here. But there’s nothing out of the ordinary. I send Dylan a message, and she’s walking through my door within a few minutes. She lives on pack property in a small cabin just down the road.
“What’s up, boss?” Dylan’s wearing pajama pants and a t-shirt, and I realize I have no idea what time it is.
“Did I wake you up?” Her pants have breakfast foods on them, like eggs and bacon and shit. I shake my head.
“No, grandpa. I can stay awake until after 10:00.”
Jesus. It’s only 10 o’clock. “Listen, I want you to take a look at the office. Make sure there’s nothing missing in there.”
Dylan snorts. “As if I could even tell.”
“Really?” I cock a brow.
“Dammit no. Of course I’ll know if something is missing. But I am cleaning up that mess. I don’t care if it’s your office.”
“I never told you that you couldn’t.”
Dylan growls and moves toward the office to begin her search.
“Dylan, you ever hear of the pack wise woman that lives out in the woods somewhere near Bethel?”
Dylan hovers in the office doorway, sucking in her cheeks looking puzzled. “I’ve heard about her, but I don’t know if any of the stories are true.” She pauses for a moment, her face growing more and more confused.
“What’s going on, boss?”
“See if you can find her address, will you?” Dylan looks like she wants to press me for more information, but she resists, simply nodding her head.
“Oh, and Dylan. Keep all this to yourself. The office and everything else.”
Chapter Seventeen
Bridget
Silas threatened to come to my shop with me, but I managed to get him to go home. Now that I know he’s Alpha of his pack and has other responsibilities, I feel bad that he’s been neglecting all his other duties. The thought that I might be a duty to him bangs around inside my chest, and I chew on the corner of my mouth as I try to decorate a wedding cake. I really should do something else while my mind is so distracted. I’m either going to ruin the cake and be forced to start all over—which I don’t have the time for—or Angela and Freddy are going to end up with a lopsided cake at their wedding. And I refuse to let that happen.
I huff out a breath and set down my icing bag, deciding I’m going to make a pie while my brain is all foggy. Hopefully by the time I’m done, I’ll be in better shape. There’s a huge bushel of apples one of the local orchards dropped off just this morning, and I get to work peeling them.
Millie is out in front and hasn’t called back for help yet, so we must not be that busy. Which isn’t unusual. Typically, after the morning rush, things are fairly quiet until lunchtime when people stop in for a coffee and some sugar to get through the afternoon drag. The quiet allows me to focus on my pie, shutting out the word around me and the constant assault of thoughts pinging around in my head. It’s a mess up there. Silas cares about me. He didn’t just walk away from me. He was cursed. Good lord. Cursed. How is that even a real thing? How are wolves and vampires my new reality? It’s a miracle my head hasn’t exploded.
By the time I finish with my pie, it’s almost time to close up for the day. Millie deserves a raise because she let me stew and brood all day. I clean up the kitchen and head out front, where Millie is making sure everything is put away for the night.
“Oh, hey, stranger. I wasn’t sure if you’d walked out the back door or were still here.” Millie gives me a knowing stare.
“Sorry, they day got away from me. I didn’t realize how late it had gotten. I’ll finish closing up. You can take off.” I grab her coat off the hook behind the counter and hand it to her, taking the towel she’s holding from her hands in exchange.
“I can stay and help you close up,” she scolds me, but I just usher her toward the front.
“Nope. I’m mopey and horrible company. Let me brood alone while I clean,” I try to joke, but I’m sure some truth leaks into my words. Millie frowns at me as she shrugs on her coat, buttoning it all the way up to ward off the cold.
She pulls some gloves out of her pockets but pauses just before she pulls them on to look at me. “Are you okay, Bridget? I know that boy has been messing with your head. Do you want me to give him a talking-to?”
I suck my bottom lip into my mouth and try to smother my smile but fail miserably. There is so much about her statement that has me shaking my head. For anyone to call Silas a boy, well, that’s just absurd. I’ve never met anyone more manly than Silas. Between his towering height, powerful muscles, the deep timbre of his voice, that golden stubble that’s always present on his jaw… and I’m staring at Millie like I want to make out with her.
I blink a few times, realizing I’ve drifted off into a daydream about touching Silas’s body, and Millie laughs.
“Oh, sweetie. You’ve got it bad.” Millie pats my arm sympathetically and then tugs on her gloves.
“Thanks for offering to beat him up, Millie. I’ll let you know if I need any assistance.”
“I’m really good with the sneak attack. They never see me coming.” She winks and pushes open the door, letting in a blast of cold air with her exit. I shiver and head back to the front counter to see what else is left to clean up for the day.
The door opens again behind me, and I turn in time to catch a man come strolling in. We’re still officially open for another two minutes. I don’t want to
be rude, but I really wish I would have locked the door after Millie left. The man saunters up to the display case and examines at all that remains for the day. One lonely muffin and a few cookies.
His hands are in his pants pockets like he’s out for a casual stroll, but he doesn’t have a coat on despite the frigid temperatures today. His eyes are shrewd as they shift back and forth between the muffin and me. He’s got the type of vibe of someone who thinks they’re way more charming than they are.
He runs a hand through his reddish-blond hair, messing it up.
“Looks like you’ve almost sold out of everything for the day.” He examines me, a little too thoroughly for my taste, and grins. I can tell he thinks he’s being charming, but there’s something about him that sets off my creep-meter.
“Yes, I was just about to close up. I don’t have much else to offer.” I shrug toward the case, trying to reign in the attitude that wants to come out. I force my lips into some semblance of a smile, but I’m not sure it’s working because the man’s overly-wide smile falters a little. He looks familiar, but I don’t know where I’ve seen him before.
There’s an awkward moment of silence while he studies my face, and I try not to stare at him. Clearing my throat, I point back to the case. “So, can I get you something?”
“How about one of those cookies.” He winks at me, and I try to suppress a shudder.
“Sure thing.” I’m grateful for an excuse to move directly out of his line of sight. I open up the case and pull out a cookie, putting it in a small paper bag, perfectly sized to hold the treat.
He holds out his money, forcing me to take it from his hand in a weird passive-aggressive move. I mean, come on, just put the money on the counter or drop in my hand. Don’t make me yank it from your fingers, dude.
I mumble a thanks when he finally releases his death grip on the dollar. I hold out his change, and he reaches out, trying again to get me to touch him. Instead, I smack the coins on the counter and slide them toward him.
