Page 12

Chapter Twelve

Aline

T oday felt like a day out of someone else’s life. Whose? I didn’t know, but not mine. For the last three years, my daily routine has been getting up, going to work, coming home and sleeping. I’ve taken a few hours off at times—usually, when Avó was visiting—but when I did, I was always worried about what was happening at the restaurant.

I hadn’t thought about what was happening at Oxente since I left it this afternoon. There was something about interacting with Xochil and her family that completely relaxed me and had me forgetting everything outside of what was in front of me.

I enjoyed the respite from worrying about what was happening. I wasn’t concerned about running out of food, whether the patrons were happy with their food, if we were making enough money to make the monthly payments and payroll, or if someone was going to try to yell at my staff in an effort to get a discount.

But now that I was realizing my life had been focused on my business for too long, I was also realizing how exhausting it was to have so many questions running through my head all the time. I was burning out, and the worst part was that I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do to fix it.

“Are you okay?” Xochil asked, looking at me sideways from the driver’s seat.

“Yeah, just thinking,” I told her, trying to smile, but the thoughts of my burnout made it hard to pull off.

“So, I’m not the only one who frowns when she thinks?” she teased, making me laugh.

“I guess so,” I replied, then tried to figure out where we were heading. “Where are we going?”

“Luna Salsera,” Miguel answered from the back seat. “We’ve been coming here since we were in university. They play salsa, merengue, bachata, and other genres. I think they sometimes even have cumbia nights, though it’s been a few years since I’ve been out this way when they had one.”

“You like dancing?” Xochil asked, suddenly concerned.

“I’m rusty, but I definitely like dancing,” I answered. I almost added that the last time I went dancing was with a partner, but wisely stopped. “Do you guys come out for it often?”

“We used to spend our weekends here when we were getting our Bachelors, but now we only manage to come out once a month or so,” Xochil answered.

“Too much work getting in the way?”

“Work, but also I traveled for about three years after we graduated, and Miguel traveled a bit for training, too.”

“Training for what?”

“Fighting. I found a few masters and trained in sword fighting, judo, crabmaga,” he replied.

“Oh, so you’re really into your work?”

“I was born for it,” Miguel answered seriously, which was different from the devil-may-care personality I had been getting used to. “I need to be the best so I can protect the people I love.”

“Protect from what?” I asked, confused.

“Anything. Everything. My mom went through some shit from her family. I don’t want anyone thinking that we’ve let our guard down, and they can come back and hurt us.”

“Her family didn’t want her to get together with his dad,” Xochil said quietly, as I watched Miguel get lost in his thoughts through the rearview mirror.

Thankfully, by the time we got to the club, Miguel was back to his usual self. We found a table inside and ordered a few drinks. It was still early, so we just hung out a little while, chatting and drinking. Miguel switched to iced tea an hour later, as he was planning to drive us home. Once the club was in full swing, Miguel stood up.

“Alright, I’m going to find myself a pretty girl to twirl on the dance floor and I hope you two join soon. My ladies,” he finished with a dramatic little bow.

“He’s got a point. We’ve been watching for like an hour. Come on,” Xochil said, standing up and holding out her hand to me.

I placed my hand in hers and let her pull me to the dance floor. The song was a slow one, allowing me to slowly relax my rusty muscles and get into the music. Not long after, Miguel joined the floor with a curvy brunette, swirling her around the floor expertly.

“You guys dance really well,” I tried to tell Xochil, but she pulled me closer instead of answering.

“What did you say?” she yelled into my ear, her voice and her scent making me shiver.

“You guys are really good dancers,” I said when she moved her head so my lips were close to her ear.

“Our parents dance a lot, too,” she said into my ear, but didn’t back up from where she was holding me close.

At this point, we were slow dancing to an upbeat salsa song, but no one was batting an eye.

It was almost one in the morning before we left the club. My feet were sore and I was sweaty, but for once, it wasn’t due to work, and a hundred percent because of how much fun we had.

“Alright, text me in the morning when you need the car, cuz, or whenever you need anything. I don’t guarantee I’ll be awake before seven, though,” he warned.

“Duly noted,” Xochil answered, grabbing a bag from the back seat before I took her hand, and pulled her behind me.

I could admit that I was a little bit drunk, and a lot horny. Xochil had teased me with her body all night, her hands and body pressed against mine as we danced, and now I wanted to reciprocate the affection she’d shown me earlier.

“What’s in there?” I asked, pointing to her bag, when we were inside the house.

“Clothes,” she answered, and I smirked.

“Pretty cocky of you to assume you’d be spending the night.”

“I was prepared—am prepared—to sleep on the couch again. I want to stay near you for the rest of my life, but at minimum until the threat of the stalker is eliminated,” she replied.

I shook my head at her words, my heart and stomach fluttering, while my orixa gave me a happy nudge.

“The things you say sometimes,” I chuckled, making my way toward the bedroom.

I was all the way inside when I realized Xochil wasn’t behind me. I walked back out to the living room, and she was sitting on the couch, pulling out a pair of pajama pants from her backpack.

“What are you doing out here?” I asked her.

“I was going to get ready to shower and sleep,” she mentioned, looking confused.

“But—” I stopped, trying to figure out where the disconnect happened. I walked over and kneeled down in front of her. “I don’t want you sleeping on a couch. I want you in my bed. In my arms,” I told her, cupping her cheek.

“Are you sure? I don—I wasn’t trying to pressure you,” she replied, a vulnerable look on her face that felt out of place on a strong woman like her.

I would almost bet my business that not many people had ever seen her look that way.

I stood up and took her hand, pulling her up and guiding her to the bedroom. I closed the door behind me and pulled her close, cupping her face again as I kissed her. Her lips were so soft, letting me part them to deepen the kiss with a quiet moan. I was drunk on her—addicted to her taste. I needed her tonight like I’d never needed anyone before.

I pulled her closer as I continued to kiss her, then walked her backwards until we hit the bed. I tried to push her back, but she wouldn’t let me go, so we tumbled onto the mattress together. I pulled back from my kiss, looking down at her hooded eyes, looking up at me.

“Am I crushing you?” I asked.

“No. I love feeling you on top of me,” she answered, her hands grabbing onto my ass and pulling me down to her until I was fully pressed against her to prove a point.

I bent down and kissed her again, letting my lips drag down toward her neck. When I got close to her shoulder, I kissed a spot that was calling out to me. Xochil’s body arched under mine with a loud moan, her hands digging into my curls.

I pulled back for a moment, and she pouted, making me chuckle. I grabbed the hem of her shirt to pull it off her, but she stopped me, placing her hands over mine.

“Before we go any further, maybe we should talk,” she told me quietly.

“Talk? You want to talk now?” I asked her.

“There are things about me you should know before we do this. I need you to understand, because once we do this, I won’t be able to stay away from you. There will be no walking away for me, so I need you to understand who I am.”

“Are you married?” I asked, pulling my hands back and crawling off her.

“No. I told you, I’ve been single for two years. There’s only you for me, Aline,” she said, looking a little hurt by the question.

But if she didn’t have another lover, what else could she say to make me not want her?

I tried to push forward to kiss her, but she scooted back in the bed, looking pained. Hurt slashed through me, and I waited for her to tell me what it was that was holding her back, but she seemed to be having trouble elaborating. Her silence was only making me mad.

“Are you mentally ill and have to return to the psychiatric hospital tomorrow? A serial murderer? Part of the mob? What?” I asked, my voice becoming louder with each accusation.

“No. Nothing like that,” she said with a slight disbelieving look on her face.

“Then what, Xochil? What kind of secret is so great that it will change how I feel about you?” I asked, needing her to talk to me.

“I’m a werewolf,” she blurted, her eyes going wide once the words were out.

“I beg your fucking pardon?” I asked, trying to figure out if I had misheard or if she was pulling my fucking leg.

“I can shift into a wolf,” she elaborated.

I stood and paced my bedroom, trying to figure out how to handle this supposed revelation. Finally, I looked at the woman sitting nervously on my bed, coming to the only possible conclusion.

“If you didn’t want to have sex with me, all you had to do was tell me,” I told her angrily.

“What? Aline, I—”

“No. I’ve let you into my home, my restaurant, my life. I’ve met your family and left you alone in my personal space. I le—” I stopped, feeling the heat in my cheeks as I remembered what we did earlier today. “I let you in, and instead of being honest with me, you tell me this?”

“I’m not lying to you,” she insisted.

“I’d like you to leave,” I told her, crossing my arms and trying to ignore the panic and hurt on her face.

My heart was breaking, my orixa was angrily nudging me. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to trust her, but if there was something I didn’t like, it was lying.

“No,” Xochil said, standing up and coming toward me. I backed up until I was against my dresser, and still she didn’t stop. “No, you don’t mean that. You feel the same thing I feel. I can see it in your eyes. Aline, please,” she begged me, tears coming to her eyes as she grasped my hands. “I wouldn’t lie to you. I’m a shifter. My father is a shifter, my cousin is a shifter, and you’re… you’re my mate. The Moon Goddess chose you to be my fated mate. We’re destined to be together. You have to feel it. I know you do, baby.”

I didn’t say anything, still trying to process what she was telling me. Her face looked so determined and desperate. I wanted to believe that she wasn’t lying to me, but fuck me, I believed in a lot of things, but werewolves? Either she was mentally ill, or she was a furry.

She was right about one thing, though. Just looking into her eyes, I knew I was falling for her. As crazy as it sounded—as fast as it was—I began falling for her from the moment her eyes met mine that night at the restaurant. So that left me with a couple of questions to answer.

Was I willing to overlook this? If she was mentally ill and believed she was a mythical creature, was it really hurting anyone? Lots of people were weird these days. I’d come across a few who identified as a cat or some other type of animal. Was this that much different? If she were a furry, was that so wrong? As long as she didn’t make me join her in dressing up, what was so wrong with that?

“Please don’t push me away,” she whispered as I continued to think, the tears flowing from her beautiful amber eyes.

I pulled my hands from hers, and the devastation in her eyes as I did almost broke me. I cupped her face and dried her tears, hearing her breath hitch as I did.

“Okay,” I heard myself saying, making my mind up.

If she wanted to pretend to be a werewolf, who was I to judge? She was kind, loving and protective. I’d felt more alive in the last three days of knowing her than I had in the last three years. “You don’t have to leave,” I told her. “But I need a night to process this. T—to get used to this.”

Xochil closed her eyes. Another tear left her face before she turned and kissed my palm.

“Okay,” she agreed. “I’ll be on the couch.”

She took a step back and toward the door, but I heard myself speaking without thinking.

“No. You can stay. You can sleep in the bed with me,” I told her quickly, making her pause and turn to look back at me. The hope shining in her eyes made me add, “But just sleeping.”

She nodded, her eyes still shining with hope.

“I’ll go shower. I’ll be back,” she started walking away, but then quickly came back and raised herself on her tiptoes to place a small kiss on my lips. “Thank you.”

She left and, a few moments later, I heard the bathroom door close and the shower turn on. I blew out a harsh breath and pulled at my hair.

“What the hell are you doing, Aline?” I whispered to myself. “You don’t need these complications.”

But she’s been doing nothing but removing the complications in my life since she came into it, I reminded myself.

I hadn’t felt this wanted, or this cared for, in so long, if ever. And hell, I’d dated worse people. People who cheated, who used me, who treated me like nothing more than a mouth to please them. I wanted this. No. I wanted her.

Xochil came out of the shower a little while later, and it was my turn to clean up. By the time I came back out, I was feeling more confident in my decision, and when I watched her lying in bed with her eyes closed, her breathing steady, I knew I wouldn’t regret it.

It took me a while to fall asleep with her lying next to me. Every instinct in my body wanted to wrap her up in my arms and pull her closer, but I was trying to be good and not wake her. I had finally fallen asleep an hour or two later when I felt a hand on my face. My eyes fluttered open, and I was going to ask her something before the hand on my face covered my mouth, and I began to worry when my orixa nudged a warning at me.

“Someone’s in the house,” she whispered, and a new, different panic replaced the brief worry that flashed through my head that I may have made a mistake about her.