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chapter Three

New Home

Michaela

“And this is your bathroom.” Liz says, showing me the bathroom attached to the main bedroom.

I’ve always loved Liz’s bubbly personality. Her ability to see the good in any situation. She’s showing me this cabin as if I’m on some vacation admiring my Airbnb. Meanwhile, her stepson has not moved from between us and keeps giving me the side eye.

“This works great. Let your mate know that we are very thankful.”

“Hey, I’m just glad I have my own room. I thought we were going to be sleeping in a tent with a bunch of other smelly wolves.”

Miko growls at Marley’s comment. I shake my head.

“Oh, sorry, Liz. I forgot you’re mated to a wolf.”

“How about you go and check out your new room,” I tell Marley.

She smiles before rushing off to her borrowed room. I turn back to Liz.

“Go ahead,” I say with a grin. “I know you’re dying to ask me questions.”

Her energy has been buzzing as bad as Marley’s since we’ve been together.

She grins as she leans against the dresser in my room. “How did you hide being a vampire from me for so long?”

I chuckle. No one brings out my lighter side more than Liz. My years spent with her and her mother are the happiest years of my long life. They taught me how to be normal and what it felt like to be part of a family.

“It was easy. Yes, I’m a vampire, but it’s only part of who I am.”

She looks thoughtful for a moment before asking her next question.

“Are you more of a Bram Stoker vampire or a Twilight one?”

I grimace. “Neither.”

She tosses her head back and laughs. “Okay, how old are you really? Because me and mama always said you had an old soul.”

Pain cuts through me as I think of Ms. Cheryl. The closest thing I ever had to a mother.

“I’m about halfway through my fourth century. Give or take a few years. You tend to lose count after a while.”

“You’re 450 years old?” Liz’s eyes nearly pop out of her head.

I laugh. “Yes.”

She shakes her head as she places her hands on her hips. “That explains so much.”

“Anyway,” I say, changing the subject. “It’s been a long trip. We need to get some rest, and you should head back.”

In no way did I want her pack to think I was holding her hostage here with me.

“Okay,” she says. “But one more question. What’s your real name? I know you couldn’t have been born a Michaela.”

“Michaela is the only name I go by.”

She seems to take this information in before tucking her chin.