Page 1 of In the Mouth of the Wolf (Of Wolves and Kings #1)

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MARLOWE

“W hy are you holding that bag?”

A devious smile grew slowly across my face as I grabbed a handful of mini marshmallows and dangled them over the baking dish. Looking Mike dead in the eye, I let them go, cackling when his lips flattened in annoyance.

“You’re ruining it,” he huffed.

Then I spread them evenly over the top and popped the whole thing in the hot oven, closing the door with a little bump from my hip. “I believe you mean I’m improving it,” I replied with a wink. “You’re welcome.”

He groaned, dragging his feet towards me like a whiny toddler, grabbing me around the waist and digging his nose into the crook of my neck. “You know how I feel about these midwestern recipes. Can’t we have one Thanksgiving free from all this?”

Normally I would argue against his pretentiousness, but I wasn’t in the mood. I shrugged him off and set the timer. “If you didn’t want to eat sweet potato casserole with marshmallows, you shouldn’t have proposed to a girl from Wisconsin. We can do whatever you want for Christmas – tapas, Korean barbecue, curry… your choice. But please leave me my ‘midwestern recipes’ for today.” My voice cracked despite my attempts to sound playful and I turned my head before he could see the tears forming in the corners of my eyes.

His expression softened and he pulled me back into his broad chest for a hug. “I’m sorry. I should have realized this year would be hard. Go ahead and put marshmallows on whatever you want, I mean it. Marshmallow cranberry sauce, marshmallow stuffing… ooh, marshmallow Brussels sprouts!”

I snorted, wiping my cheeks with the back of my hand and getting back to work.

It had been only a month since my mom died from a stroke, joining my twin brother who had passed away in a car accident almost eight years ago. All I had left was a dad I hadn’t seen since my fourth birthday. I was officially family-less.

Except for my fiancé, of course.

Aside from his dislike of marshmallows, Mike was the perfect guy. We had met at a networking party three years ago in Palo Alto, when I had been in the middle of my grad program.

There I was, stuffing another lamb slider in my face, when a pair of violet eyes had found me from across the room, accompanied by a devastatingly handsome smile.

Mike was a software developer working at a startup like all of the other tech bros in the room, but had managed to have a whole conversation with me where he hadn’t mention cryptocurrency once. Instead, we had talked for hours about our shared love of travel and our favorite books and movies. We had left the event early to get more drinks at a nearby wine bar, and then we had ended up spending the whole weekend together, mostly in his bed.

We fell fast, we fell hard, and we had stayed that way.

I had moved into his condo in San Francisco six months later, and this summer during a trip to Mexico he had proposed.

We were planning on getting married next spring, but hadn’t set a date yet because we couldn’t agree on the type of wedding to have. He wanted to do something quiet and intimate, like city hall and a dinner with a select group of friends.

I wasn’t opposed to the idea, but Mike came from a large family, with quite a few brothers, aunts, uncles, and cousins out in Florida where he had grown up. I was looking forward to finally meeting all of them and celebrating together. The only one I’d seen so far was his mom, and that had just been from me awkwardly waving in the background of their occasional FaceTime chats.

He insisted his family wasn’t that close and didn’t need to come, but Mike hadn’t gotten to meet my mom before she died – she had lived in Milwaukee, where I was born and raised, and the timing had never really worked out.

While we were building a life together here in California, I didn’t want him to forget his roots and regret not seeing his family more often like I did.

Thanksgiving might have been a good time to finally meet them, but with everything that had happened, we decided to celebrate at home with just the two of us this year. Travel was too expensive and too hectic anyway, so we’d opted on making way too much food by ourselves, then getting high and gorging on the leftovers for the whole weekend while rewatching the Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter movies. It certainly beat spending thousands of dollars to catch COVID on an oversold flight.

Mike poured a glass of wine and handed it to me. “Here. Why don’t you go relax? All that’s left are the mashed potatoes and gravy, right? I can take care of that on my own.”

I gave him a kiss. “And the rolls. They just have to be heated for about five minutes.”

Mike faked an exasperated sigh. “Now you’ve gone too far…”

The couch called my name, and I snuck a piece of cheese from the charcuterie board we’d been grazing from all afternoon. After plopping down on the oversized cushion, I was about to search for a new baking show my friend Esther had recommended when my phone rang. Normally, I ignored numbers I didn’t know but I recognized the Wisconsin area code.

Curiosity got the better of me and I answered. “Hello?”

“Hello, is this Marlowe Linden?” a man asked.

“Yes, this is she.” If this was a telemarketer, that was pretty low to call on Thanksgiving.

“I apologize for disturbing you during the holiday. My name is Oliver Alderwood, I’m with the Mayo Clinic Health System in Eau Claire. Are you the daughter of Mr. James Linden?”

I attempted to swallow the lump forming in my throat, setting down the glass of wine with shaky hands as the blood drained from my face. “Yes, I am.”

“I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Ms. Linden, but your father was brought in earlier today. It seems he suffered a stroke perhaps two or three days ago and was discovered unresponsive in his home. The doctors did everything they could, but…”

Mike popped his head into the living room, smiling and opening his mouth like he was about to say something funny until he noticed my expression.

Oliver continued a practiced speech about claiming the remains and other administrative tasks I needed to take care of as his next of kin, and I nodded along.

“I see. Thank you for calling me. I’ll… I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Mike rushed over, taking my pale cheeks in his hands. “Marlowe, what is it?”

I could barely register the words the man had said on the phone. I had just spent two weeks in Wisconsin handling my mom’s death – her funeral, her cremation, and cleaning out her house.

My eyes shifted over to the urns of my brother and mother on one of the built-in shelves next to the TV. Was there room for one more?

“My dad died. I have to go back to Wisconsin”

“S hoes and jackets off. Remove your liquids and electronics…”

It had taken me a few minutes to register the shock of hearing the news of my dad’s death, and in that time Mike had managed to book me on the next flight to northern Wisconsin, paying for the exorbitantly priced ticket without a thought.

Then he had helped me pack my suitcase and had taken me to the airport, waiting with me until I needed to head through security.

“I wish I could come with you,” he said as we hugged, his face nestled deep in my neck, breathing me in. “But Jen and I have that project at work that was technically due yesterday. I can join you in a few days if you need me, okay?”

The wound in my heart that had only just started to heal after my mom’s death reopened with a vengeance, and it felt like I was about to bleed out right in the middle of SFO. I had thought while cleaning out my mom’s old house that I could try to get in touch with my dad at some point in the future. He hadn’t come to Ezra’s funeral, and I hadn’t even thought to invite him to mom’s, but he was all I had left. Now I would never know him, never know why he had left us.

But I couldn’t submit to the pain and grief just yet – I needed to get to my destination first. I kissed Mike good-bye and got in line while my brain went into autopilot, allowing me to function just enough to make it to the gate and onto the plane.

Somehow, I managed to handle my layover in Minneapolis as well and arrived at the Chippewa Valley Regional Airport in Eau Claire, Wisconsin early the next morning. The airport was desolate, but at least one of the cafes was open.

I bought one of their seasonal drinks, then made my way to the rental car desk, pulling up the reservation Mike had also made for me. He’d even sent me a list of hotels, just in case I couldn’t or didn’t want to stay at my dad’s place while I was here.

As I waited for the attendant to finish all my paperwork, my phone alarm beeped, reminding me to take my medicine.

Back in high school I had had the worst periods and PMS, so my mom had helped me find a special birth control that kept me feeling sane. The brand wasn’t found in most pharmacies, so she had been sending it to me like clockwork every three months.

Something else I now had to figure out how to manage on my own, I realized bitterly.

But as I dug through my purse, they were nowhere to be found. In all the rush and commotion, I must have forgotten to pack them.

Shit. Now I had to deal with all this while turning into a weird, weepy, hormonal mess?

Terrific.

I got in my rental car and headed straight towards the hospital, the address punched into my GPS, planning on stopping by their pharmacy after dealing with my dad. If they didn’t carry the pills, at least they could point me in the right direction. But would my insurance even cover it? Considering it was so hard to find, it must have been expensive.

I gritted my teeth as I turned the defrost setting on to clear the foggy windshield, my fingers already numb from the cold. At least the roads were dry and it hadn’t snowed up here yet. I wasn’t sure I remembered how to drive in less-than-ideal conditions.

Once I got on the highway, I glumly gazed out over the bleak landscape.

Being home used to refresh me, but the first thing I now noticed was how dead everything looked.

I already missed the golden hills, bright blue skies, and palm trees of California. Wisconsin had its own beauty, of course, but this time of year always seemed too melancholy. Everything was brown and lifeless, and the barren trees only accentuated the flat, endless gray horizon.

It was still pretty early when I arrived at the hospital, and the receptionist at the front desk let me know the bereavement counselor would be in soon to meet with me. I took a seat in the lobby, exhausted from the trip and numb from the cold and the loss.

My whole family was gone now. Every single one of them.

Thankfully there weren’t many witnesses to my detached staring. Since it was Black Friday, I assumed most people were probably at their nearest Walmart, fighting their neighbors to the death over a discounted TV.

Those who did pass by eyed me suspiciously though, sniffing the air in my direction. I subtly checked my armpits when no one was looking, but my deodorant was doing its job. Was it that obvious I wasn’t a local? Sure, I hadn’t been up to this part of the state before, but I had spent most of my life in Wisconsin. I was raised on beer brats and Blue Moon ice cream.

Finally, a little after nine, a man came out of an office, calling my name. He was quite tall, with short, sandy blonde hair and brown eyes. I couldn’t help but notice how well he filled out his khaki chinos and navy half-zip sweater.

My mind wandered briefly, wondering what his chest looked like underneath his top. What I would look like underneath his…

God, what was wrong with me? I always noticed a good-looking man, who didn’t? But since I had met Mike, I hadn’t really noticed so… intently. I was an engaged woman dealing with my dad’s body, and here I was, practically drooling over the physique of my bereavement counselor, of all people.

“Good morning, Ms. Linden. I’m Oliver Alderwood. We spoke on the phone yesterday.” I recognized his voice, of course, but today there was a richness to its timbre I hadn’t noticed before. It was soothing yet powerful, like a strong massage pulling the stress from my body.

My eyes fell to the hand he held out for me to shake, and as I took it my mind flashed to other ways he could be massaging me, and then I mentally slapped myself. I needed to get a grip.

Or do you want him to get a grip on you?

I bit my cheek to keep grounded and steadied my expression as he continued talking. I didn’t remember horniness being one of the stages of grief, but this man was making me feel depraved enough to add it to the list - somewhere between ‘denial’ and ‘anger,’ perhaps?

“I’ll be helping you with everything you need to take care of your father. His attorney has also been contacted. He’s on his way from Chicago now. I understand Mr. Linden had already set all of his funeral arrangements, so thankfully you won’t have to deal with too much paperwork today.”

My dad had been so put together he had an attorney? And funeral arrangements? Yet somehow couldn’t even remember to send a birthday card?

The look of confusion must have been more obvious on my face than I thought. “I know this is a difficult time. Why don’t we head to my office? We can speak in private there.”

I shook my head, unwrapping my scarf and tossing my hair over my shoulder. “Can I see him first?”

His nostrils flared and his pupils dilated for a second before returning to normal, like I had said something wrong or offensive. Had I accidentally pissed him off? Was I being too blunt, or did I seem too cavalier? “Of course. Just follow me,” he replied, his voice becoming even deeper.

The halls were quiet and empty, the sounds of my boots clacking along the vinyl flooring and the errant beep from a machine the only signs of life in the early morning hours. Even Oliver managed to walk with a preternatural silence. I chalked it up to his career. He was probably used to making his presence as unnoticeable as possible. For a man of his size, it was impressive.

We entered the room, my heart pounding as I eyed the body on the bed, sheet pulled up to his shoulders. One would think that after not seeing your dad for twenty plus years, he would seem smaller than you remembered him. Yet he still looked like a giant – although not quite as big as Ezra had been. When my twin brother had shot up to over a foot taller than me in high school, I had often joked that he stole all the height genes in the womb. At five-foot-three, I had tapped out a couple inches shorter than my mom.

I compelled myself to step closer and inspected his face. The years had been kind, and if I didn’t know any better, I would have placed him at closer to forty than his real age of sixty. His hair, the same shade of strawberry blonde as mine, was still quite thick. A short, well-maintained beard covered his face, his mouth set in a thin line.

Recognition hit me like a freight train carrying memories long buried from my childhood, and a sob finally made its way through my chest. Oliver placed his arm around me. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

I normally didn’t like strangers touching me, but I found him comforting and welcomed his warm yet professional embrace. Even his scent, mint and lavender, had a calming effect. I allowed myself to let go of the shock, the sadness, the fury… expressing every complicated feeling I’d ever had about my dad, right there in that room.

Oliver stood by my side without saying another word, allowing me to expel it all.

Why was I grieving for a man who hadn’t even wanted to be a part of my life? I had a few happy memories from when I was little, when I had thought he was the greatest dad ever.

But great dads didn’t abandon their kids.

I took in one more deep, shuddering breath, wiping my cheeks with the palms of my hands. “Thanks, I’m good now.”

He nodded and led me back down to his office, where I was given a bottle of water and a box of tissues.

“Thanks, Mr. Alderwood,” I said. “I’m sorry you had to come in on a holiday for this.”

He shook his head. “Please, call me Oliver. And it’s no problem at all. I knew of your father before he was brought in. He’s done a lot of good work in our community, and it’s an honor helping his daughter.”

I raised an eyebrow and let out a sniffling, skeptical laugh. Somehow, I’d always pictured him as the stereotypical deadbeat dad – living in a shitty studio apartment, drinking away his paychecks and skipping out on child support. What kind of good work could he have been doing all the way up here?

“I have his belongings, if you’d like to take them. He was found at home, so he didn’t have anything on him when he was brought in aside from the clothes he was wearing and his wedding band.”

Wedding band? Why would he still have worn his wedding band?

Okay, the pieces were coming together now. “That explains it. Did he remarry and have a second family up here or something? Where’s his other wife?”

Oliver cocked his head. “Other wife? I’m not sure what you mean. His emergency contact was his business partner, Camden Wolcott. He directed me to his attorney, who gave me your information. That was how I got in touch with you.” He took a small envelope from the box and opened it, dropping the ring into my hand.

Sure enough, my mother’s name was engraved on the inside.

“This doesn’t make sense,” I said quietly. “He walked out on us. Are you telling me they never officially divorced?”

He sighed, giving me a sympathetic look. “I wouldn’t know anything about that, only that he was found alone in his home. Speaking of, you should be getting a key to the place from his attorney. I know the process of cleaning out a loved one’s belongings after death can be painful, and I am happy to assist you. I am great at moving boxes.”

Oliver flashed me a flirty grin. My breath hitched, and I brought my left hand to my chest as I was hit with a wave of his enticing cologne. His eyes darted towards the ring on my finger, disappointment eclipsing his friendly expression. Okay, so I might have entertained some light fantasies about the very good-looking man in front of me, but I certainly wasn’t going to act on them. Had he actually considered asking me out? That must have been a major ethics violation for his position.

“Are you bonded?” he asked, pointing to my hand.

I straightened in my seat. “What? I’m engaged, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Why isn’t your pack here, too?” His voice had become strangely clipped, like he was mad at me for not being single.

I sat back in confusion, my eyes blinking rapidly. “Pack?” What the hell was he talking about? “Not that it’s any of your business, but this was kind of sudden and my fiancé, singular , has work. He’ll come out for the funeral or if I need his help clearing my dad’s house. But thank you for the offer, I guess.”

His palms flattened on his desk and he took a deep breath. “Your father lived in Maiingan Hollow. You can’t go there by yourself. You need a male escort to protect you. I will take you.”

I clicked my tongue, put my dad’s ring on the desk, and folded my hands in my lap as I centered myself before I replied. “I don’t appreciate your tone or your concern, Mr. Alderwood. This is really unprofessional.”

Oliver chuffed. “And I don’t think you understand the dangers of an unbonded…”

“Excuse me?” I raised my hand to stop him. “What the hell does this ‘bonded’ and ‘unbonded’ bullshit mean? Is the town my dad lived in so dangerous that a woman can’t even walk the streets by herself without being jumped? And why is this my problem and not something that should involve, oh I don’t know, the police?”

My words hung in the air, and Oliver’s expression turned from frustration to suspicion. “Do you not know…”

I refused to listen anymore. “This is really too much. I hate to be a Karen about this, but I think I need to speak to your supervisor.”

At that, Oliver growled and I jumped in my seat, my heart bursting with primal fear. I snapped out of it and gave him a disgusted look. “What the hell, dude? Did you just fucking growl at me?”

Someone knocked at the door and Oliver’s eyes shifted towards the sound. “What?” he snarled.

“Mr. Alderwood? This is Elias Faulkner, James Linden’s attorney. Is his daughter here already?”

“Come in,” Oliver said roughly. I opened my mouth in shock. How did he go from caring nice guy to aggressive asshole? And why? Just because I had the audacity to be engaged?

The attorney entered, and I almost laughed. Like Oliver, he was also very tall and well-built, his bespoke suit immaculate and perfectly tailored to his muscled physique. His skin was tanned, like he had just come back from a tropical vacation, his dirty blonde hair highlighted with streaks of gold. I hadn’t been out of the Midwest that long. Surely, I would have remembered everyone looking like Greek gods. Had they put something in the water the past few years?

Elias nodded at Oliver and then extended his hand towards me. “Pleased to meet you, Ms. Linden.” When I took it, the same expression that Oliver had first given me fell over his face – his nostrils flaring and his pupils dilating as he pulled me in. He shot Oliver a look.

He gestured at me from his desk and sighed. “She doesn’t know.”

I took my hand back and stood up. “Mr. Faulkner, did my father have you on some sort of retainer? I might need to open a case of sexual harassment against this hospital.”

This time, a growl reverberated from the attorney’s chest, and he stepped in front of me, his body shielding mine from Oliver’s view as his eyes raked me over. “What did he do? Did he touch you?”

Oliver bared his teeth. “She doesn’t know,” he reiterated slowly

The attorney turned around and faced him. Some kind of silent understanding seemed to pass between the two of them, and the tension in the room started to melt. Elias sighed, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. “Ms. Linden, could you actually give us a moment?”

I bit my lip in frustration. Sure, they were just going to ‘talk it out’ and brush it all under the rug, trying to convince me I had overreacted.

Typical.

I slung my purse back over my shoulder and wrapped my scarf back around my neck.

“You know what? It’s fine. My dad already has his funeral all planned out, right? It sounds like I don’t even have to do anything anyway. You guys can just discuss everything and this little ‘unbonded’...” I put my fingers up in air quotes. “...woman will leave it all to you. See you.”

The attorney grabbed my arm. “There’s still a lot to take care of here, and your father’s will…”

I ripped myself from his grasp, pointing my finger in his face while my body shook with rage. “I don’t want anything that man left me. Don’t touch me again; don’t contact me again. I’m getting on the first plane out of this backwater hellhole.”

I slammed the office door behind me and stormed off into the parking garage, plopping down in my car and bursting into tears. All that testosterone in the room had me on a weird edge. What the hell was up with all that growling and posturing between the counselor and the attorney? This was all just so insulting and bizarre.

It reminded me of when I was a teenager and my boobs had come in. Like a bat signal to creeps, they had started following me around whenever I was out, telling me I smelled nice and asking for my phone number.

But back then, I had had Ezra to put them in their place.

God, I really was alone now.

After wiping my cheeks and blowing my nose, I took out my phone and called Mike.

“Hey, did you make it okay?”

His voice instantly made me feel better, and I took a deep breath to start, but he could tell just from the slight shuddering sound that something was wrong. “Shit, I should have come with you…”

I let out a pained laugh. “Yes, but not for the reasons you think.” I gave him a brief rundown of what had happened at the hospital, and as I spoke, it sounded even more bizarre.

“Jesus Christ, what year is it over there?” he asked. “Do you need me to come? I can try to find a flight tonight.”

I opened my mouth to respond when I heard a woman laughing in the background.

“Where are you?”

“At the office. I have that project, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” I sniffed. “Tell Jen I said hi.” I had met Jen at a few of his company parties. She was always really nice to me. She kept asking if I wanted to get drinks with her and have a girls’ night. After dealing with those two men, a girls’ night was actually starting to sound pretty damn appealing, and I made a mental note to take her up on that offer soon.

“Of course. By the way, I brought in some leftovers, and apparently, you’re right – sweet potatoes taste better with marshmallows.”

“They’re amazing, Marlowe! Your fiancé has no taste!” Jen yelled into the phone.

I chuckled at the confirmation. “Told you. Anyway, don’t worry about coming. I’m going to try to change my flight and return today. There’s no point in my being here. I’m sorry you paid so much for my ticket. This was a colossal waste of time.”

“Don’t worry about that,” he said, reassuring me with his calming tone. “At the very least, you got some closure, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” I sighed. “I’ll let you know when I’m supposed to arrive. Do you think you can pick me up?”

“Definitely. I love you, my Lunessa.”

He had started calling me that pet name in the past year, and my face warmed whenever he said it. “Love you, too.”

I hung up and stared out of my windshield, through the open space between the concrete floors of the garage. Fluffy snowflakes floated lazily in the air, and my anger subsided enough that the chill was finally seeping through the woefully thin jacket I was wearing. I hadn’t needed a proper winter coat in years and had forgotten how essential they were here. I shivered and turned on the car to start the heater, then opened the airline app on my phone to go about changing my ticket.

A sudden knock at the window made me scream, dropping my phone somewhere between the seat and the center console. My dad’s attorney looked at me apologetically, and I grumbled as I lowered the window. “What do you want?” I snapped.

“I apologize for the way the counselor treated you and if my initial reaction to the situation offended you. You came all this way, at least let me take you out for breakfast. Then if you’re game, we can head to my satellite office and discuss your father’s estate.”

“Estate?” I asked. “Did he leave me a bunch of useless, impractical junk that I now gotta deal with?” Wouldn’t that be the cherry on this shit sundae, finding out I’d inherited his collection of obscure jazz records or antique spoons or something stupid?

“Not exactly,” he replied. “There’s a diner not too far from here called Betty’s. Why don’t you head over there? I’ll meet you. Besides, I don’t know if you’ve checked the weather, but a winter storm is coming through, and I don’t think you’ll have much luck flying out for the next few days.”

“Crap,” I groaned. Combined with the holiday weekend rush, I might be screwed until the middle of next week.

In that case, diner breakfast was sounding pretty good at the moment, too, if I was being honest. “Fine, I suppose you can buy me a meal.”

Elias smiled, and my breath almost stopped. He was far too gorgeous for his own good. “It would be my absolute pleasure, Ms. Linden.”

A blush crept across my cheeks, and I couldn’t help myself from smiling back. Nah, this was absolutely going to be mine.