Page 11 of Wild Alpha (Cold-Blooded Alpha #12)

S tanding in a cozy, open-concept cabin, I'm still trying to process what just happened. Meeting the infamous Dayne Blackshaw didn't go as I thought it would.

After revealing the shifter secret, the Blackshaws offered me a cabin to stay in as long as I needed, stocked the refrigerator, and made sure the generator was working before they left me to settle in.

They also invited me to come over to the house for meals or to play video games in the den whenever I wanted.

There’s even a duffel next to my feet filled with comfy clothes, thanks to Savannah’s kindness and generosity. She figured I had nothing since I had arrived at their rural home in fur and bare skin.

If someone had told me all this would happen, I’d have died laughing.

“Why didn’t he kill me?” I whisper.

For the past fifteen minutes, I’ve been standing in the middle of the cabin, trying to come to terms with the sudden change in my life, but it all still feels like a dream.

I have a place to stay, as much food as I want to eat, and an open invitation to the farmhouse a few minutes away if I want to hang out.

I’m no longer alone in the world, and I don’t know how to feel about it.

Processing takes time. So does exploring every corner of this cabin.

It’s rustic and homey. Dayne said his pack liked to come here to have loud sex, and honestly, I see why.

It’s an open concept space with a king-size bed covered with a plaid blanket, a trunk at the end of the bed filled with fresh towels and linen that a guy called Marshall and his mate, Jenna, filled for me.

Savannah told me she has a bunch of books at the house if I need more than what’s in the bookcase, but honestly, I'm not much of a reader. When I was back in Oklahoma, I spent more time outside than inside.

“Kier, Hallee’s mate, is a local carpenter,” Nathan had told me when I asked about the furniture. “He made a bunch of the stuff in here and the house. You’ll probably see him at some point, but he’s working on a piece at his house.”

“He doesn’t live here?” I’d asked Nathan.

He’d shaken his head. “He needs more space, and he has a workshop. It’s not far, though. He won’t admit it, but I think he needs the quiet more than he needs the space. The house can get pretty loud.”

There’s a fireplace in front of a snuggable loveseat, a closed door that leads to a small bathroom with a shower and a freestanding tub. I have a forest all around me, and a TV with more channels than I will ever watch.

But it’s the natural, soothing scent of varnished wood, along with a real vanilla candle someone was burning recently, that makes me wonder if I ever want to leave. I could live here quite happily for months, if not years.

An hour later, I’m sitting at the end of my bed, staring into space, not sure what to do next. I’ve explored. I’ve stood in front of the refrigerator and stared at its contents, then peered out the window above the sink.

A knock sounds at the door, and I’m getting up to answer it when a familiar scent halts me.

My wolf growls at me. She knows who it is and wants to know why I’m not answering the damn door.

Knock, knock.

Hesitating for a moment longer, I cross the room, reluctant to believe it’s him, right up until I swing the door open.

Fisher stands just outside with both hands in his pockets.

He still has a Band-Aid on his forehead, and he’s wearing the same hiking clothes as before, but he’s missing his bag. I can’t understand why he’s not looking at me like I’m an animal.

He couldn’t wait to get away from me before, so why, a couple of hours later, is he here?

“You found me, didn’t you?” he asks, his serious brown eyes fixed on me.

I shake my head, confused. No conversation has gone the way I expected today, and I don’t know why I keep being surprised by that. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He takes a step toward me.

I take a step back, and I couldn’t tell you why. I’m not afraid of Fisher in the same way I’d be afraid of taking on a grizzly or a lion. This fear is worse.

“I was checking the water in the creek before deciding if it was safe to fill my canteen,” he says softly. “Something startled me. A bear, I think. And I scrambled to get up and grab my bear spray from my bag, but I slipped and fell.”

He’s silent for so long that I peek up at him through my lashes.

He’s looking at me, but his eyes are distant. As if he’s in the past, reliving a memory.

“When I woke up, I was lying on my sleeping bag and covered with a blanket, next to a wolf who watched over me until I could take care of myself.”

Chewing my lip, I twist my fingers together, unsure what to say.

He continues, “ You saved me, didn’t you? You were that wolf.”

I nod.

“Then you brought me food and watched over me. You…” His voice trails off as he rocks back on his heels, pulls one hand from his pocket, and runs his fingers through soft-looking brown curls.

“I did what?” I prompt, dying of curiosity.

Why are you here, Fisher? Why do you look so confused?

He swallows, avoiding my gaze. “I, uh, used to read books about myths and legends, and one thing that was always in those books was how secret werewolves and vampires are. But you changed right in front of me. Why?”

My wolf snarls in disgust at being grouped with vampires.

Not now, I snap at her, urging her to be quiet. I’m barely keeping my nerves in check for this conversation. The last thing I need is for her to distract me.

I shrug. “I don’t know.”

But I do know.

I knew why I wanted to protect Fisher when Dayne asked me in his kitchen, and I didn’t want to admit it to someone who wasn’t Fisher.

From the moment I saw him outside the grocery store, laughing and smiling as he loaded groceries into someone's truck, he felt like mine.

That didn’t make sense to me then, and it still doesn’t now.

He's not a shifter, and shifters rarely have human mates. But something about Fisher screams he's mine, and that certainty keeps growing stronger by the day. I'm not sure what it means, but I know I can’t walk away from Fisher, and it hurt so much when he walked away from me.

He takes another step toward me.

I’m the predator here.

I could strip the flesh from his bones in seconds, but instead, I’m the one pulling away from him. Afraid to hope he's interested in me, and terrified that this isn’t leading to something I'm desperate for.

“Why won’t you look at me?” he asks, voice soft.

My gaze drifts to the hardwood floor, where my bare toes curl. “I don’t want you looking at me like I’m some kind of animal.”

His hands cup my jaw, tilting my face up.

He’s not smiling.

I don’t just want this man. I feel like I might need him. It must be in my head because he’s looking at me like he might need me too.

“I went home, dumped my bag at my dad’s door, blurted some crap about being alive, and then I got back in my car and went back to the forest, but you weren’t there.”

I stare at him.

“And so I came here, because up in the mountains, when we were alone, you became essential to me. You could change into a dragon, and I wouldn’t care.”

My heart pounds against my chest, and I want to cry when he smiles.

“In fact, I think I might prefer it. It’ll save me from rubbing two sticks together for twenty minutes trying to impress a girl with a trick I barely learned from watching a nature documentary.”

I let out a laugh, my eyes misting with tears.

He pulls me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me.

Over his shoulder, I spot Dayne leaning against a tree, arms crossed, watching with a pleased expression. Talis walks up to him, flashes me a brief smile, and drags him away, back toward the house.

She was right. I hadn’t believed her when she said things usually work themselves out in ways you can never predict, but she was actually right.

“You really didn’t know how to rub sticks together to make fire?” I ask Fisher, hugging him back.

He makes a sound of contentment and pulls me closer. “I was rubbing those sticks and praying to every god I’ve ever heard of.”

I laugh.

He pulls away and looks down at me. “I spoke to Dayne at the house. He was the one who told me where I could find you.”

I bite my lip. “Oh.”

“I’m not sure why it didn’t surprise me to learn he’s a shifter.”

My eyes widen. “He told you?”

He shakes his head. “Watching Nathan and Clara transform made me realize the truth. I figured if they could change, they probably weren’t the only ones. Wolves are pack animals.”

“Was that something you learned from watching nature shows?”

His lip twitches. “I learned a little something about nature and wildlife. Not as much as I’d like to, but some. Can you live forever?”

I shake my head. “I age a tiny bit slower and heal faster, but other than the fact I change into a wolf, we’re not too different.”

He looks more impressed than wary. “How much faster can you heal?”

I shrug. “So fast that Band-Aids and bandages are mostly useless.”

His level of awe rises.

“I broke a rule,” I admit quietly. “A big one. Usually, the punishment is death.”

His eyes widen in alarm, and he spins around to peer into the forest. “Will Dayne kill you? I won’t be as good at protecting you as you protected me, but I can throw a rock like no one else. Just say the word and I’ll let them fly. Let me go grab?—”

I grip his arm, stopping him from arming himself with stones. Not that a stone would do much to stop a wolf attack, but it’s the thought that counts.

When he looks down at me, his expression softens, his alarm melting away. “You’re smiling.”

“I’m surprised.” I consider the warmth in my belly. “And happy.”

I thought my wolf would be insulted that a human felt the need to protect us with a rock.

She’s not.

Neither am I.

She is… pleased that he cares enough to put himself in harm’s way, even knowing he would be starting a fight he couldn’t win.

Going so long watching your back and then suddenly adjusting to someone wanting to watch it for you, even in a fight they can’t hope to win, is surreal, but in the best way possible.

“I have food,” I tell him. I hadn’t been hungry before, but now I am. And I want to show Fisher this cabin and ask how long he’s staying with me. “If you just went back to tell your dad you were okay, you probably haven’t eaten.”

“Got any granola bars that taste like sawdust?” he asks so cheerfully that I can’t help but laugh.