Page 11 of Curvy Alpha Bride (Wolfshade Brides-for-Hire #4)

All the way home with Xavier, I feel uneasy. The way the mood shifted so suddenly at the party sets my nerves on edge and enhances the strange behavior of all the people in town.

Even though Xavier’s explanation for the lack of children makes sense, somehow it doesn’t ring true. And I don’t think he believes it, either.

By the time we get to the cabin, the darkness is so dense, I can barely see the tree line. An aura of menace hangs over the valley, so powerful that claws seem to be reaching for me out of the shadows.

This place is creeping me the fuck out on every level. No matter the circumstances, I couldn’t stay here longer than a week. So much for a relaxing vacation.

As we go inside, I spare a moment to wonder if Iris Porter is completely off her rocker. She looks like the most together woman I’ve ever seen, but maybe that’s just how she hides her crazy.

“I’ll get a fire going,” Xavier says. “And get the stuff out of the car. I forgot to get groceries, but we still have all the gifts from the townsfolk.”

“Sounds good,” I answer. “I think I’ll make some hot chocolate.”

While I go to the kitchen, Xavier goes back out to get some wood and unload the car. Even though the scene feels normal, maybe even homey, I can feel the tension bubbling under the surface.

I have to ask him about this. If we are both getting seriously bad vibes from this place, we should talk about it. We might end up laughing it off.

As I heat the milk and stir up two large mugs of chocolate and sugar, I know that’s extremely unlikely, but I still want to hope that my feelings of dread are not based on actual fact.

Xavier has the fire roaring by the time I bring the hot chocolate over to the living room, and he’s opened a gift basket of biscuits and cakes. For a few minutes, we sit quietly, enjoying the food, and I feel my nerves beginning to settle.

“I also found this,” Xavier says, pulling out a small, pretty glass bottle filled with pale amber liquid.

“What is it?”

“Aged brandy. Ivan makes it.”

“I’ve never been a fan of brandy.”

“Me either, but I’m prepared to give it a go.”

He twists off the top and takes a sip, then hands the bottle to me. I expect it to be bitter and completely burn my mouth, but after the initial rush of heat on my tongue, it leaves a lingering, sweet taste that makes me crave another sip.

“Okay,” I admit. “That’s good stuff.”

“I think it’s made from cherries,” Xavier says. “But I’m not sure.”

He takes another long sip, and I reach out for the bottle, giggling. “Don’t guzzle it all, you pig!”

“Oink-oink,” he grunts. “Sorry, pigs don’t speak English.”

“Fine!” I laugh, sticking my fingers into his ribs. “I’ll just have to manhandle you!”

“Oh no,” he begs, putting the bottle down before he fully succumbs to my tickling. “Not the claws, anything but the claws!”

Xavier writhes under my hands, laughing so hard he quickly loses his breath.

I feel lightheaded from the brandy, relaxed and bold—better than I have in months.

It takes a few minutes for me to realize I’ve stopped tickling him and am just running my hands across his soft sweater, feeling his hard body underneath it, and imagining his skin under my fingers.

I jump back a little, feeling a flash of shock ripple through me. My reaction isn’t a big one, but I do put a bit of space between us. When I look up at Xavier’s face, his big, blue eyes are like wide-open pools, still as empty ponds just waiting for me to dive in and drown.

Please don’t look at me like that.

I lean over and grab the bottle, making a little crow of triumph.

“Ah-ha! Got it. You’re too easy to distract.”

“By you, yes. Anyone else, not so much.”

“Don’t even,” I mutter, shoving him. “You resisted me for years.”

“Excuse me? I was practically jumping up and down like a cheerleader soaked in Red Bull, and you just yawned every time I walked past.”

Little alarm bells start to go off deep inside me, as if warning me I should change the course of this conversation—and fast. But the combination of brandy, warmth, and a cessation of the stress I’ve felt since I entered this town has dulled my good sense.

“Here,” I say, handing him the bottle. “I’ll be generous and let you have a little more.”

“Very kind of you,” he retorts, taking a sip. “I get the feeling this stuff is in short supply. I imagine it’s not easy to make.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t have drunk the whole bottle, then,” I giggle.

“Yeah,” Xavier says, draining the last gulp. “To be fair, though, it is a small bottle.”

I pick up my hot chocolate and take a sip, the rich taste mixing beautifully with the leftover cherry brandy on my tongue. “I’ll say one thing for this place—their food is spectacular.”

“So is the craftsmanship,” Xavier says. “Houses, furniture, clothes—all homemade, unique and sturdy.”

“And yet, every single person seems to be their own special brand of crazy,” I mutter.

Xavier gives me a look. “You noticed that, huh?”

“How could I not? From the young girls almost my age that act like they have head trauma to the scary, secretive elders—and the lack of children—this place is built for giving the creeps.”

“I know what you mean,” Xavier says, looking out the window thoughtfully.

There’s nothing out there but complete, impenetrable darkness. Without even a sliver of moon for illumination, the stars fail to describe any details, and the impossibility of that dense blackness seems to capture Xavier’s soul.

“What are you looking at?” I ask softly.

He shakes his head. “Nothing.”

“Well, obviously. You can’t see a damn thing in that darkness, even with wolf eyes.”

“It’s just… no, never mind.”

“Just what?”

“We’re so far away from civilization out here, there’s no ambient light. That’s why it seems so dark.”

I’m pretty sure that’s not what he was going to say.

“Anyway, in spite of all that, you seemed to enjoy yourself today,” he says.

“Yeah, I did. It’s nice to be treated like a princess. I didn’t expect the position to come with this much veneration.”

“Well, I don’t know about that. It seems more like worship.”

I chuckle so hard I have to put my mug down or risk spilling it. “C’mon. As if.”

“Totally,” Xavier laughs, giving me a nudge. “It’s what you deserve.”

“I’ll give you what you deserve!” I giggle, holding up my hands with my fingers wiggling.

He yelps and slithers away, but I reach out and dig my fingers into his ribs before he can get off the couch.

Xavier shrieks with laughter, still trying to wriggle out of reach, and I launch myself at him, pinning him down and pinching him around the waist. He twists under me, howling with a combination of mirth and consternation.

It’s okay to let my guard down. He knows I won’t stay, and we’re just having a bit of fun—

Through my fuzzy, drunken thoughts, a sense of familiarity cuts through, bringing up a wave of loss.

This is what it was like between us, for years. Everything was so easy. Then we slept together, and I thought it would be like this forever—

The memory of standing on his front lawn while he drove away without looking back slams into me, knocking all the humor from my mind. All the joy is replaced by pain, and I jump back, getting off him in one swift move.

I want this to be real. Oh, God, how I want this to be real!

“Are you okay?” he asks, and I have to look away and squeeze my eyes shut to hide my tears.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I mutter, ashamed that my voice is coming out soft and trembly.

All this time, I thought I was over this, but I’m still attached to him.

Through my shock and fear, a little wave of nausea rolls through me, the result of a hefty dose of self-hatred.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Xavier asks, looking concerned. “You look sick.”

“I’m okay,” I say quickly, putting up a hand to push him away. “Just a bit overheated from the brandy. I’m going to… go take a bath.”

Without looking at Xavier, I get up and practically flee from the room. I slam the bathroom door behind me and stand with my back pressed against it, gasping for air.

I’m not safe here, and it has nothing to do with freaky feelings coming from the mountain. This is probably just my mind, trying to protect me from these hidden emotions.

As I get my breath back, I go over to the bathtub and start the water. It’s a huge, old-fashioned tub, and thankfully, whoever built this cabin made sure it had full plumbing.

I slip under the warm, frothy bubbles while the tub fills up, feeling my tight muscles begin to uncoil. Stretching out, a sigh escapes my lips as my whole body relaxes, and I realize how wound up I was.

It’s okay. This is just a contract, and I can leave soon.

Slowly, the tension returns as I think of how many days I still have to wait before I can leave—and where I’m going to go afterwards.

Just head back to Cyan Lock, like I never left? I don’t think so. I couldn’t face all my friends again, and I couldn’t go back to my old life, my routines. I was beginning to hate it there.

I try to cheer myself up with thoughts of travel, imagining going down the Range to other towns or even out to the human world, but then I only feel more miserable.

I have nowhere to go, and no one wants me… I do feel like I have a place in this pack, but I’m not living here with Xavier. How could I ever trust a man who left me the way he did, as if that wonderful night we shared never even happened?

My emotions twist me up until the tension in my neck starts to give me a headache.

Sighing, I get out of the bath and wrap myself in a towel.

I have to go out to my bags to find my pajamas, and I’m worried about walking past Xavier practically naked.

But once I get out there, I see he’s already gone to bed.

A flicker of disappointment teases my stomach, making my heart bounce.

What, did you want to tease him until he threw you down on that rug in front of the fire and fucked your brains out?

Yes…

I put on my warmest pajamas and go back down the hall, trying to ignore the oppressive darkness outside all the windows. I’m convinced that my jumpy feelings all have to do with my inner conflict, and I refuse to get spooked out by my own imagination.

When I get to the bedroom, Xavier has his back to me, his breathing slow and even, obviously deeply asleep. My disappointment deepens even more as I slip into bed beside him.

I don’t even know what I want!

I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling as I tried to hold back my tears. I want those happy moments back—not only the ones we just shared, but all the memories from the past when we laughed and joked together, years of friendship and foreplay ruined, tainted by his rejection of me.

Must have been a hell of a shock to him, to have to face the woman he discarded so brutally.

The idea of Xavier struggling awkwardly with this gives me a perverse sense of comfort, and I manage to get myself under control enough that I don’t feel like I’m about to cry. Even though I manage to settle down and even relax, sleep is still a long time coming.