by Amy Pennza
He never believed it before. Funny how a single encounter could change something like that.
Her eyes were . . . pure. Vulnerable. They showed every emotion she felt, from anger and frustration at the airfield to embarrassment and disappointment when she talked about not having a Gift.
And pain. There had been a lot of pain in there, too.
He sat back in his chair, making it creak. There was a reason wolves spent years learning how to rein in their feelings. Human emotions made the beast volatile. More than that, they made a wolf prey to stronger, more dominant pack members. Everyone felt pain in all its variations. But feeling it was one thing. Showing it was quite another.
In a species that prized strength and control above all else, concealing pain was paramount.
Haley was too young to have learned that skill.
Someone needs to teach her. As soon as the thought entered his mind, he scowled. Yes, someone needed to teach her, but it wouldn’t be him. He could think of a dozen reasons why it would never, ever be him. It wouldn’t be Benjamin Rupert, either.
Pain shot through Bard’s palm. He looked down. He’d squeezed his fist into a tight ball, and the knuckles were white with strain. Slowly, he forced his hand open, then lay his palm flat against his thigh.
At least his leg had quieted down. Maybe now he could attempt the stairs so he could get some sleep.
A soft thud from overhead made him look up. The guest room was just above his study. She must have eaten quickly, then fled upstairs so she didn’t have to see him again.
Fine by him.
He drew in a deep breath, then braced his hands on the chair’s arms. He took another deep breath and heaved himself to his feet. For a second, his left thigh quivered.
Come on, you asshole. He gritted his teeth, willing the temperamental appendage to do its job and stop him from falling on his ass. The last thing he needed was a curious Haley rushing downstairs and finding him sprawled on the hardwood.
Yeah, that would really impress her—an Alpha who couldn’t manage to get out of his own damn chair.
Not that he needed to impress her. It didn’t matter what she thought of him. Based on her mumbled “goodnight” as she left, she didn’t think much of him to begin with.
“Good,” he said aloud. Thigh still quivering, he limped toward the door, one ear tuned to the sound of his left heel striking the ground. It took sixty-seven of those strikes for him to go from his study to his bedroom, assuming he didn’t make any detours.
And he wouldn’t. The unexpected trip to the airfield, followed by the stress of carrying Haley’s suitcase, meant his leg was toast for the night. A shower would be wonderful, but he couldn’t risk it. No, the best he could hope for was making it up the stairs and into his bed without ending up on the floor.
What was it the young people said? Hashtag goals.
Thigh burning, he made it to the door and hit the lights. His night vision was decent enough to let him see in the dark, and he’d long ago removed any area rugs or runners that might trip him up. The downside was that the house was prone to echoes. Normally, it wasn’t something he worried about. Living alone, he could be as loud as he pleased.
He reached the foot of the stairs and stopped, one hand on the railing, his gaze canted up. When he built the house, he almost nixed the plan for a guest room. Why waste all that space when he didn’t need it? The Washington Territory didn’t “do” guests. On the rare occasion a wolf from another pack visited, they stayed at the Rupert Inn, one of a handful of businesses in Elder Lake and the only hotel in town.
Fresh anger spiked in his veins. If it hadn’t been for Joel getting wind of Glenna’s plans, the Ruperts might have snagged Haley from Sea-Tac and bustled her into their bed and breakfast without Bard being none the wiser.
He’d have to thank Joel properly. The grizzled old wolf didn’t get out much these days, especially when the weather was damp. His joints were riddled with arthritis—something that happened sometimes as wolves approached the end of their lives.
Bard gripped the railing and let his gaze drop to the wooden steps. Joel had helped him stain the treads as the house was being built. None of the other wolves in the pack had seemed to understand why Bard refused to stay in the old mansion where the Washington Alphas had lived for close to two centuries.
But Joel understood. He’d been there the night Bard’s father died.
And he’d been in the forest two weeks later, when Bard defended his right to take his father’s place.
Clenching his jaw, Bard started to climb. He could count on Joel to take Haley to the airport in the morning. The old wolf knew what was at stake if she stayed.
Because Joel knew something the other wolves in the pack didn’t.
The Washington Territory was dying. It had been dying for two decades.
And Bard was determined to finish it off.
6
Haley opened her eyes. Immediately, sunlight filled her vision. She groaned and rolled to her stomach, squeezing her eyes shut and burying her face in the pillow.
She couldn’t stay that way too long. Remy was a lovable goofball most of the time, but he could be as unforgiving as a drill sergeant when it came to showing up to morning training on time.
And if she missed training again—
Wait.
She flipped over. The ceiling was most definitely not her ceiling.
Reality crashed in, chasing away the last hazy shreds of sleep.
She wasn’t in her bedroom at the Lodge. She was in the Washington Territory in Bard Bennett’s guest room. And it was morning, which meant he could knock on her door at any moment.
She sat up and swung her legs over the bed, shoving hair out of her face as she went. Her feet hit the floor, and a wave of dizziness crashed over her, making her clutch at the mattress for support. Her stomach rumbled, and nausea rolled through her.
Okay, so skipping dinner last night hadn’t been the smartest move. She’d let pride get in the way of common sense.
After a minute, the nausea subsided. She released her grip on the bed and straightened her shoulders. For the first time, she looked around the room—really looked at it, taking in the furniture and decor. When she’d rushed upstairs last night, she hadn’t given it more than a cursory glance. Instead, she dumped her suitcase on a storage chest at the foot of the bed, dug out her toiletry bag, and headed straight for the shower in the en suite bathroom. Standing under the spray had been heaven after the long day of travel. It was amazing how something as innocuous as sitting on a plane could leave a person feeling grimy and unkempt.
In daylight, the room was actually quite beautiful. He must have hired someone to decorate. Because she couldn’t imagine the gruff, impatient Bennett hobbling around a furniture store.
Shame burned her throat, and she bit her lip. It was wrong to think of him as hobbled. Whatever had happened to him to cause his scars and injuries, he didn’t deserve it. No one did.
She sighed and turned toward an antique looking chest of drawers with a large mirror that reflected the entire room—and the disheveled female in plaid pajamas.
Ugh, she could not let Bard catch her like this. Approaching the mirror, she pushed her hair away from her face, smoothing the curls. She could pull off a decent blowout with a hair dryer, but she’d been too tired to bother with it last night. As a result, her hair had dried in a riot of light brown curls—a look only Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman could pull off.
Haley pivoted and went to her suitcase. What she really needed was a hair tie. It was the only way to contain—
Record needle scratch. Absently, she let her arms fall to her sides, her hair tumbling down her back once more. She barely noticed, because her gaze was fixed on the single sheet of paper sitting atop her suitcase, the bold handwriting visible even from a distance.
Bard had left a note? That meant he’d been in her room.
While she slept.
Her heart pounded. She glanced
over her shoulder at the rumpled bed, then down at her pajamas and bare toes. Oh god, how long had he been in the room? Had she snored? She’d been so exhausted last night, she hardly remembered stumbling from the bathroom to the bed.
What an absolute ass! He could have slipped the note under the door, but no, he had to invade her privacy when she was at her most vulnerable. Creep.
Quickly, her embarrassment was replaced with a rising anger. “Let’s see what the creep has to say,” she muttered, striding to the suitcase and snatching the note from the top.
Bard’s handwriting was as straightforward and no-nonsense as the man himself, with dark, heavy slashes of block print.
Miss Michaels — I was called into work unexpectedly.
She stopped reading. What did he mean by “called into work?” An Alpha’s “work” was leading his pack and running his territory. “Called in” was odd phrasing, as if an employer had ordered him to report to an office or something. Then again, maybe he meant there was an emergency within the pack.
She shrugged and bent her head over the note once more.
Unfortunately, our meeting will have to wait.
I’ll return in the early evening. In the meantime, make yourself at home.
— BB
P.S. If you’re considering leaving the territory, don’t. Every wolf in Elder Lake answers to me, and I’ve ordered them not to help you.
She clenched her jaw.
P.P.S. Also, the temperature falls below freezing at night. You would never survive a trip south on your own.
Now, her jaw dropped open. Was he some kind of mind reader? She balled up the note and tossed it into the corner.
No, more likely he’d just guessed what her next move might be. If the whole town was populated by werewolves, and he’d forbidden them to lend her aid, her only recourse was to strike out on her own. It wasn’t like she could steal a car or borrow someone’s phone.
Phone.
There had to be a phone in the house somewhere. She could call Max and tell him what happened. Why the hell hadn’t she thought of it before? The New York Alpha always knew what to do in a crisis.
She turned on her heel, rushed to the door, and yanked it open. Even though Bard’s note said he was gone, her heart still thumped hard as she stuck her head in the hall and looked it up and down. Everything was quiet. Still. The sort of stillness that only came when there wasn’t another soul in a building.
Buoyed by that thought, she slipped into the hallway and hit the stairs. There was bound to be a phone in the study. If Bard was like any other Alpha, he probably took all his important calls there—
Someone pounded on the front door just as she reached the bottom of the steps.
Her breath caught, and she froze. The door was just ahead, its forest green paint broken only by a small, rectangular window. It was positioned perfectly for a man to look out.
Or in.
“Hello?” The pounding rang out again. “Haley Michaels?”
She stared at the door. Whoever was out there, it wasn’t Bard. The voice was far too friendly to be his. Besides, why would he knock on his own door? He certainly had no problem waltzing into occupied bedrooms.
“Haley, are you in there? It’s Benjamin Rupert.”
Her heart skipped a beat. Benjamin Rupert? The male she’d flown all the way to Washington to see?
And a male who might be willing to help her get back home.
She hurried across the foyer, which was lit up like a Broadway stage as thick shafts of sunlight poured through the windows. Then she flipped the deadbolt and opened the door.
Whoa.
A tall male with dark brown hair stood inches away, one hand raised like he was mid-knock.
And he was gorgeous. Like Disney prince handsome, with a square jaw, an aquiline nose, and hazel eyes that seemed to shift between green and blue.
They smiled down at her now as his mouth split in a broad, white grin. “Haley?”
Mild air swirled around her, teasing the curls around her face. It was warmer than yesterday, the breeze almost playful after the miserable wet of the airfield.
The male cleared his throat, and she realized she was staring, her mouth slightly open.
She snapped it shut.
He shifted, sunlight glinting in his hair. “You are Haley, right?”
“Yes,” she breathed, sounding like a phone sex operator. She cleared her throat. Get it together, Michaels. “I mean, yes. I’m Haley. Haley Michaels.”
Aaaaand she’d just used the same catch phrase as James Bond.
But Benjamin didn’t seem to notice. His smile turned bashful, and he ran his hand through his hair and held it on the back of his neck. “I’m, uh, really sorry to just show up like this. I would have called, but I didn’t want to risk Bard picking up.”
Without really noticing what she was doing, Haley sank against the door frame, her gaze on the curve of his bicep as he palmed his nape.
“I hope you don’t mind,” he said.
“Huh?” She straightened. “Oh. No, it’s fine. You’re fine.” Shit! She gulped. “Everything is fine.”
He dropped his hand and shoved it in his jeans pocket. “Plus, ah, my mom fessed up to her scheme this morning. I really apologize. I’m so embarrassed.”
“Scheme?” Haley asked. Then her conversation with Bard hurtled back to her. “You mean the letter.”
“Yeah.” He grimaced. “She sort of . . . made it seem like it came from Bard. He doesn’t really do phone calls, so I assume your Alpha thought it was genuine.”
Haley was speechless. What could she say to that? Mrs. Rupert had orchestrated this whole thing? Without Bard’s knowledge or permission? No wonder he was pissed.
Benjamin swallowed. “Bard’s furious, of course.”
“Of course,” she murmured. She hugged her arms around her midsection. “Did you know about this?”
“No!” He seemed to realize he’d shouted, and he lowered his voice. “No, I swear it.”
Well, that was something, at least. Still, what a mess. Max was going to be livid when he found out—or maybe he already had. She met Benjamin’s gaze. “Why would your mom do something like this? Why not just ask Bard’s permission?”
He hesitated. “It’s complicated.”
Haley tipped her head to the side. He was cute, and he seemed genuine, but she couldn’t let him off the hook that easily. “Don’t you think I deserve an explanation? I traveled a long way because of a lie.” And it’s almost my birthday, which I might have to spend with your asshat of an Alpha.
To his credit, Benjamin sobered. “You do. Absolutely, you do.” His throat worked as he swallowed again, and his blue-green eyes ran over her face. “Gosh, you’re beautiful,” he said, almost under his breath.
Despite the weirdness of her predicament, warmth blossomed in her cheeks. And a glimmer of surprise sparked through her. She’d never thought of herself as easy, but a compliment was a compliment.
And coming from this guy . . .
He seemed to catch himself. Then he broke into another bashful grin. “I’m such a dork. You’ve been through a lot, and I’m standing here like some jerk in a bar hitting on you.”
“You’re not a dork.” She bit her tongue before she could add “you’re really hot” or something equally stupid.
His eyes warmed. “Could this non-dork take you to lunch?” She must have frowned, because he spoke in a rush. “Just into town, where you can meet my mother. She owes you an explanation, and I think it’ll make more sense if you hear it from her.”
Whoa. Meet his mother? She was supposed to get on a plane and go back to New York today. “Bard—”
“Won’t know. Trust me, he’s tied up at work. He won’t be home for hours.” The grin broadened, and a twinkle appeared in his eye.
A twinkle, for crying out loud.
Any second now, a fairy godmother was going to pop out of the landscaping next to the porch and offer to make her a ball gown.
All at once, she remembered she was wearing pajamas—and her hair was a tangle of sleep-rumpled curls. How could he call her beautiful? Doubts crowded her mind, and old hurts welled up.
She took a step back.
Alarm flared in his gaze. “Wait! I didn’t mean to come on so strong.”
She put a hand on the door and shook her head. “It’s not that—”
“My mom runs a little cafe from our family’s bed and breakfast.” He spoke quickly, as if he worried she might shut the door in his face. “It’s the only restaurant in town, but the food is amazing. We serve a double stack of pancakes for brunch.”
Oh man. A Disney prince and a male who appreciated brunch? The last of her good sense started to crumble.
Then her stomach growled—a long, mournful groan that echoed around the porch.
A good-natured grin split his face. “Come on. You can’t tell me you’re not hungry.”
She couldn’t control her smile. The situation was too ridiculous. “I’m starving.”
“Then let me treat you to brunch. As a friend. It’s the least I can do after”—he shrugged, as if he was embarrassed but comfortable with it—“everything.”
Oh, she could like this guy. She really could.
He raised his eyebrows, his face hopeful.
It was her turn to shrug. “You had me at pancakes.”
7
Haley’s breath fogged the car window as she stared open-mouthed at the scenery outside. Mountains rose in every direction, the snowy peaks seeming to scrape the sky. More snow gathered on the thick evergreens that lined the roads, and there were glimpses of crisp-looking streams here and there between the trees.
It was Christmas card perfect—and a far cry from the dark, forbidding forest she’d glimpsed on the drive the night before.
Or maybe she’d just been too preoccupied with a certain irritable Alpha werewolf to appreciate the area’s natural beauty.
The car rounded a bend, throwing her body forward a little. She was so close to the window, her forehead bumped the glass.
A low chuckle sounded beside her. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”