Page 7 of The Alpha Dire Wolf (Bloodlines & Bloodbonds #1)

Sylvie

T he darkness was all around me, impenetrable and absolute. I thrashed and clawed at it, trying to tear through the layer to get to the light I knew had to be on the other side, but it closed in tightly, like a liquid plastic adhered to my skin. I tried to scream, but there was no air.

Then, somewhere in the dark, the beast growled, the one that had been stalking me incessantly. Never giving up, no matter how fast I ran. Every time I thought I was free, it was there, right behind me.

Twisting around, determined to confront my hunter, I was greeted by the sight of two giant eyes. One bright icy blue. The other cold, hard amber. Teeth flashed and light exploded everywhere.

I jerked upright, covers sliding off me in a tangle as I finally woke from the nightmare.

“Just a dream,” I whispered to the empty room, as if it would stop the sweat pouring off me. I was drenched. The fitted sheet on the bed in the guest room I normally slept in was soaked through, sticking to me.

Just like the darkness in my dream.

I lay back to rest a moment and catch my breath, my body groaning in protest. Tight joints and aching muscles hinted at just how long I’d been locked in that nightmare.

I could only take a few seconds of being in the sticky, wet sheets before getting up.

Light was already peeking in from behind the blackout curtains.

It was probably a decent hour to get up then.

No point in trying to get back to sleep.

That decision made, I played rock-paper-scissors with myself to determine if shower or coffee came next.

Shower won.

The scalding water brushed aside any remaining cobwebs. As the sweat sluiced off my body, the darkness of my dreams went with it. In its place came questions, always more questions.

The wolf had been in my dreams. Hunting me. Why? It had saved me yesterday, so why had my brain made the change? It didn’t immediately make sense.

“Neither does a wolf attacking a bear to save a human. Or a wolf that can understand English.”

If that’s what had happened. I still had my doubts, despite what I had seen with my own eyes. The wolf had probably moved its head because of the sound of me speaking. I simply interpreted it as understanding me. The fault lay with me applying human emotions to animal actions. That was all.

Showered, dried off, and feeling like a new woman, I stepped out of the bathroom and let it all come undone by answering my ringing phone without looking at the Caller-ID.

“Sylvie, where the hell are you?”

I tried not to groan. “Mr. Davenport, hello.”

“Hello to you too, Miss Wilson. How odd that I have to say it via telephone and not in person. At your desk. Where you should be today. And where you should have been yesterday. Coincidentally, you are not, and were not. Care to explain this peculiar situation?”

I bit down on my lip hard enough to draw blood. It wasn’t enough that I wanted to absolutely skewer him for being a complete asshole, as a person and as a boss. On top of that, he knew I was far better at my job than he deserved, given the crap-tier pay and benefits his firm offered.

Unfortunately, I needed the job. A few more years at Davenport Investments, and I would be able to write my ticket to nearly any firm I wanted.

I just had to put up with Mr. Edgar Davenport …

The Second, in the meantime. He actually introduced himself that way to people.

It was obnoxious. Which fit his personality far better than the poorly tailored suits whose price tag he loved to brag about.

“Well, Miss Wilson? Do you have an answer, or shall I consider this your resignation? To not show up without calling, two days in a row. That’s skirting the edge of what I’m willing to accept. I couldn’t imagine ever acting in such an inappropriate manner.”

I could just imagine his bad toupee flopping around with the exaggerated head tilt he would end that sentence with.

“Mr. Davenport,” I said through clenched teeth. “I will be back next week.”

“ Next week? It’s Thursday! You had better—”

“ Mr. Davenport! ” Was yelling while being formal acceptable?

I was about to find out. “Yesterday morning, I found out that my grandmother has been dead for three days. Do you know why I didn’t find out any sooner?

Because she’s the only family I have left.

Had left. So there was nobody to tell me.

I found out by accident. I will be back on Monday, and not before.

I think that’s pretty damn reasonable. After all, I could have taken an entire week. ”

The not-so-subtle jab about how he’d taken a full week off to mourn his dead goldfish combined with my yelling seemed to throw him off balance.

“Well, I suppose, given, um—”

“I have to go now, Mr. Davenport. There’s a body I have to deal with.”

The absolutely crude use of my grandmother’s death wasn’t my finest moment. But my goodness, the absolute silence on the other end of the phone made it more than worth the crassness.

I hung up, giving myself even fifty-fifty odds that I would still be employed by Monday. Glancing at my phone, I saw more notifications and missed calls.

“Can you just leave me alone?”

My complaints to the empty room went unanswered. I tapped on the text message icon to see what he wanted now.

Immediately, I wished I hadn’t.

Caidyn: Answer the phone.

Caidyn: Leaving me on read? Seriously? I know you’re there.

Caidyn: Where the hell have you gone? You aren’t at home? Pick up the phone. Now.

Caidyn: Stop ignoring me.

Caidyn: Probably out fucking other guys already. Aren’t you?

“You dumped me, you dumb idiot!” I shouted, tossing the phone on the bed. “You’re the one sleeping with another woman. Two-timing piece of crap. Now you have the nerve to accuse me of sleeping with someone else? Moron.”

I almost contemplated a new shower, to wash away the ick of dealing with my ex and my boss, but a giant yawn put a stopper in that plan.

The shower had won, but coffee was coming in a hard second place now, demanding to be recognized.

It was time for caffeine if I wanted to not hate the day any more than I already did.

Rifling through the bag I had hastily thrown together before leaving, I got dressed in a wild combination of a purple tank top and black capris leggings.

I was the essence of style this morning.

Topping it off, a high ponytail to keep my neck as cool as possible.

I was still feeling rather warm from the bad sleep.

My stomach rumbled loudly. I was also starving.

Knock. Knock.

“ Reeaallly ?” I didn’t want to deal with anyone. I really, really didn’t want to deal with anyone. The funeral and then the wake had left my social battery on empty, and a night of terrible sleep hadn’t recharged it one bit. The last thing I could handle now was yet more condolences.

My grandmother would be disappointed if I didn’t extend manners to those who were just trying to help, however, and as I was staying in her house, I got my butt down to the door to answer it.

Besides, it could be important. I knew from intimate experience there was a lot more than just a funeral to plan when it came to dealing with someone’s death.

I opened the door to the face of a blonde woman, a handful and a half inches shorter than me.

She was smiling, the look stretching her feminine features in a forced manner.

In one thin-fingered hand she clutched a plain brown bag emblazoned with the logo of the local coffee shop and diner.

In the other was one of those ugly gray trays holding a trio of drinks.

“I don’t know what you like to eat or drink these days,” the woman said, as if she expected me to know her. “That’s why I got a little bit of everything.”

“Ummm.” Not only was I rocking the fashion style, but apparently I had the wit of legend as well that morning.

The blonde laughed, but it was forced and more than a little awkward, the expression backed up by a reddening of her pale cheeks.

“I know it’s been what, fifteen, sixteen years, but I thought maybe, after yesterday, you could use a friendly face.

You looked pretty overwhelmed at the funeral, so I didn’t want to add to it then.

I just thought, maybe today I could help. ”

I leaned forward, my eyes narrowing as my brain started to work again. Something seemed familiar about the round face, and the blue-green seawater eyes. Something I couldn’t quite—

My jaw dropped open, my eyes likely just as wide. “ Charlene?”

My childhood best friend until I had moved away nodded eagerly. “Hi, Sylvie.”

“Holy crap!” I exclaimed. “I haven’t seen you since we were what, nine, ten? I thought you had moved out of town too!”

“I did,” Charlene “Char-Char” Minten replied, beaming naturally now. “But not for long. I’ve been back since I finished high school, actually.”

Shaking my head, I stepped out of the doorway to let her in. “I never knew. I just assumed you were off living life.”

“In a way, I am,” she said with a laugh. “I took over my grandfather’s bookshop when my father didn’t want it.”

“That’s amazing. Oh my god,” I said as the smell of coffee finally wafted into my nose. “That smells so amazing. You are a godsend.”

“I know,” Charlene said, laughing as she showed herself into the kitchen, still remembering her way around my grandmother’s house all these years later.

We embraced once her hands were free, rocking happily from side to side.

“Damn,” she said, stepping back and looking me up and down. “You got tall , shrimp.”

I laughed at the familiar nickname. For years I had always been the shorter one, never quite catching up. “No, I just kept growing. You hit the emergency stop button, apparently.”

More laughter followed as we got ourselves settled around the table.

A warm glow settled over me that I couldn’t chalk up entirely to caffeine.

Char-Char had been right. I did need a friendly face this morning.

One that wasn’t there because of my grandmother but because of me.

We easily fell back into ourselves, like no time had passed at all.

Charlene was such a bubble of happy energy it was impossible to dislike her. I had missed it. Missed her.

Never would have been a problem if we’d just stayed in town .

“So what are you doing here?” I asked, wanting more detail and not wanting to get lost in my own morose thoughts.

“Mostly as I said. I thought a friendly face could be helpful.” She shrugged. “My mother and I, and my grandmother before she passed a few years back, were all quite close with your grandmother.”

“You were?” That was news.

“She sat on the senior council of the OLS with my mother and grandmother before her,” Charlene said.

“The OLS? Senior council?”

Charlene grinned. “Don’t laugh, okay? But it stands for the Occult Lovers Society. We meet and talk about weird goings-on, urban legends that may be true. Just stuff like that.”

I laughed. “I’m sorry. I know you asked me not to, but that’s so silly.”

“Anyway,” Charlene said, not acknowledging my comment, “I figured after the funeral, and how you looked so overwhelmed, that maybe some food and caffeine would be welcome.”

“It is,” I said, reaching across to squeeze her hand in thanks. “It really is. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“You didn’t. It’s fine,” she said, opening the brown bag. “Now let’s eat.”

We dug in. Charlene had brought bagels and cream cheese, hash brown patties, some scones, muffins and even a pair of jelly-stuffed powdered donuts to top it all off.

“You know,” I said later from around a mouthful of delicious donut, “I’m just learning this, but it seems my grandmother was a part of darn near everything in this town. The church, your club—”

“Society,” Charlene corrected immediately.

I blinked, surprised at her insistence. “Sorry. Your society. Then there’s the local historical society, and she even had her fingers in with the bingo regulars. I bet you there’s more I don’t even know of!”

Charlene laughed. “Probably.”

“The clubs must be fun. Societies, sorry,” I corrected at a stern look that quickly melted away. “Grandma wouldn’t stand boredom, that’s for sure. Maybe I’ll have to check them out. See what they have to say about her.”

“Sounds like a good idea. I can go with you.”

“Maybe they can help explain to me why she wrote me a letter dated after she died. Would be nice to have some answers instead of questions.”

“What?” Charlene leaned forward.

I told her about the letter and its warning. “Does that make any sense to you?”

“No.”

“Yeah, same. All this talk about the forest. There’s more in a journal she left for me too. I don’t get it. Everyone says she was still sound in the head but … this doesn’t match what people are saying. And that is definitely her handwriting, I’d recognize it anywhere.”

“And what is this guardian?”

“I don’t know,” I said, staring bleakly into the cup of coffee.

A wolf’s head peered back up at me out of the dark brown liquid.

One eye blue. One eye gold.