Even if Erik’s wolf did want to throttle him.
“She’s a novelty,” Erik said, once more falling back on logic. “I won’t deny that she is…somewhat affecting me. But it is because she is new and different than other females I have been with.”
From where he was now, Erik had a difficult time imagining that he would ever be entirely through with her. But past experience had taught him otherwise. Eventually, he would learn every dip and swell of her body, he would recognize each sound that she made, and he would know the way she was going to move before even she did. Inevitably, she would become familiar to him, and then, he would grow bored. All he could do was enjoy her until that time came.
“I will lose interest,” Erik said, both to Sten and to himself. “And when I do, you can have her.”
Sten wet his lips. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
Erik looked back down at the bear tracks. “Even if I wanted a mate, I would never take one. The day I prioritize one life above what is best for the pack is the day Amarok goes the way of all the other failed packs.”
“So you martyr yourself for the good of the many?”
Erik snorted. “Hardly. I said if I wanted a mate. I don’t and I won’t.” He pointed towards the south. “Send two scouts to trace the origin of this trail. I want to know why these bears are migrating and if there will be more.”
If the humans were pushing farther north, this bear tribe would be the first of many. These ones had had the sense not to settle near a wolf’s den, but a larger group might try to contest the territory. They would need to be prepared.
“I’ll go with Sylvestre.”
Erik turned eastward, to where the tracks faded into the distance. “No. I have another task for you.”
***
“I can’t thank you enough,” Astrid said. “I don’t really need my clothes back, but there’s no way I can handle having only one pair of panties.”
Sabine walked ahead of Astrid, holding up a lantern to light their way. They were deep within the den’s network of tunnels, far from any source of natural light. The ground beneath their feet was slick with ice. Astrid kept her eyes on the ground, trying to step exactly where Sabine did, as the wolf shifter walked with practiced ease.
“There is no need to thank me,” Sabine said. “I am enjoying your company.”
“I find that hard to believe. I’m the most uninteresting person I know. I get bored inside my own head sometimes.”
Sabine flashed Astrid a grin over her shoulder. “Ah, but you are not the most boring person I know. Most of the wolves in this pack have never been outside Nunavut and know very little about civilization. They tell the same tired stories and trade old gossip. You are the most interesting thing that has happened here in months, perhaps longer. It is not every day we meet a human that we don’t have to kill.”
“I guess that makes sense…”
Astrid’s legs were aching by the time they reached their destination. As they stopped outside the makeshift door of strung pelts, she was already dreading the trip back.
“Is this where my bags are?”
After breakfast, she had asked Sabine for help finding her belongings. She’d figured it would be a futile effort, as the wolves had long since divided up the bags they’d taken from her tent. But Sabine had asked around and had gotten a promising lead.
Astrid moved to enter, but Sabine held out an arm to bar the way. In a low voice, she said, “When we enter, you let me do the talking. This one is…” she waved her hand back and forth, “n’importe quoi.”
“Uh, what?”
Sabine had already pulled back the pelts and stepped into the room. Astrid followed her, surprised to find that the room was not only well-lit, but furnished. There were at least six shelving units, three tables, an upholstered chair, and what appeared to be a vanity. The floor space between them was partially covered by an embroidered red rug.
It was the first room Astrid had seen that really felt lived-in. Knick-knacks and framed photos lined the shelves. There were candles burning on the tables and the vanity was littered with makeup. In the back of the room was a circular bed that was piled high with pillows and silks of various colors.
A woman lay sprawled across the bed. She wore a long, peacock-patterned robe and her thick platinum hair was gathered on top of her head in a loose bun. She held an open magazine in one hand, though her gaze flicked between Astrid and Sabine, regarding them with a finely arched brow.
“Fifi said she saw you with her bag,” Sabine said, motioning to Astrid. “It’s a green bag with white stripes. Sound familiar?”
The female’s eyes drew a lazy path back to the magazine. “The bags belong to the pack.”
Unlike Erik and Sabine, she didn’t speak with an accent. She spoke in a soft, singsong voice that, like the rest of her, was quite pretty.
“Astrid is part of the pack now, Ila.”
Ila shrugged. “I don’t have whatever it is so you can go now.”
Astrid narrowed her eyes in scrutiny. “That’s my magazine.”
“Is not,” she said, not bothering to look up.
Astrid took a step forward. “Yes, it is.”
“Is not.”
Really?
She heard Sabine mutter an expletive under her breath.
Putting her hands on her hips, Astrid said, “Trend, September 2015, Issue 467.” She pointed at the cover. “That’s Nadya Kozlov. She’s wearing a mint green and buttercup yellow furisode.”
Ila peeked at the cover and then finally looked up, her midnight eyes sparkling with intrigue. “Foo-re…so-day?”
“It’s a type of kimono,” Astrid explained.
Ila looked at the cover again. “Huh. She doesn’t look like an oriental.”
Astrid cringed. “I think ‘Japanese’ is the word you’re looking for, and she’s not. Russian models are very popular in Japan.”
Ila sat up in the bed, gathering her robe around herself. “Oh? And how is it that you know this?”
“Well, for starters, I’m the one that wrote the article on it.”
Thumbing through the magazine, Ila stopped towards the center to scan one of the pages. “You’re ‘Julia Fairchild, Fashion Maven?’”
Astrid felt bile rise in the back of her throat. “No, she’s my boss. I wrote the article, she just put her name on it.”
“Why?”
Because Julia is the niece of our CEO and she doesn’t know a kimono from a bathrobe. Astrid was not about to explain the complexities of corporate nepotism to Ila.
“Because she was very busy that day. Look, you can keep the magazine, I just really need a couple things from my bag.”
“Do you work with models?” Ila asked.
“Yeah, sometimes, but—”
“Do you think I could be a model?”
“I warned you not to talk,” Sabine said. With a sigh, she took a seat in the chair.
Before Astrid could formulate a response, Ila pulled the tie at her waist and threw open her robe. “Well what do you think? Am I pretty enough?”
She’s worse than Erik. When he ignored what she was saying, Astrid could at least pretend that he heard her.
“You have the body for it,” Astrid said, giving up and letting Ila steer the conversation. “But being a model is more than having long legs and high cheekbones. You have to know how to present yourself. That, and I doubt there are very many casting calls up here.”
Ila frowned and nodded. “You’re right. What I wouldn’t give to live in Paris. Have you heard of wolves living in Paris?”
They both jumped as Sabine slammed her hand down onto the table. “Enough! You either give her back her bag, or I will take the matter to Erik.”
“Erik told me I could have anything I wanted,” Ila said.
Astrid could easily envision this argument stretching on for hours. It was strange to her that Sabine was basically threatening to tattle on Ila, as Sabine seemed like a very capable woman. Astrid
reminded herself that she was also capable, and thanks to Julia Fairchild, she was accustomed to dealing with entitled idiots.
“There’s no need to involve Erik,” said Astrid. “Ila, how about we do an exchange. I have a sewing kit in my bag. If you can help me to find it, I can make something for you.”
Ila’s eyes grew wide with excitement. “A furry-soda?”
Astrid swallowed a chuckle. “I don’t think we have the materials for that, but I can probably make you a nice dress.”
Ila’s robe was still open as she climbed from the bed. “Now that I think about it, I may know where your bag is.”
CHAPTER TEN
Most of the stuff she’d brought with her was still in her bag, though at a glance, Astrid did notice that her makeup was missing. With as hard as it had been to get her bag in the first place, she didn’t press the issue. There was a small sewing kit in her bag, brought for the express purpose of stitching up her clothes while out on the tundra. In lieu of tape, she used lengths of string to determine Ila’s measurements.
Sabine left shortly after Ila returned Astrid’s bag. She had offered to stay, but Astrid could tell that she was at the end of her patience with the other shifter.
“Watch yourself with that one,” Ila warned.
“Who, Sabine?” asked Astrid.
She was taking the measurements of Ila’s breasts and trying not to be obvious about staring at them. They were exactly the type of breasts she’d always admired, high and perky, sloped on top but round underneath, with light pink nipples.
“Mhm,” Ila said demurely. “She doesn’t make friends, she just keeps her enemies close.”
“She doesn’t seem like the type to disguise her feelings about someone,” Astrid said pointedly.
“Oh, I just bring out her bad side,” Ila said, sounding proud. “She knows that I can see right through her. That, and I have Erik’s favor so she can’t order me around like she does everyone else.”
“His favor?” Astrid asked, cutting the string and moving on to Ila’s waistline. “So you two sleep together?”
“Mhm, regularly. Erik can have any female he wants, but he only frequents the ones that have his favor.”
Astrid told herself it was simply curiosity that had her asking the next question. “What does it take to have his favor? Is it…”
She trailed off, her eyes sweeping over Ila’s flawless body. The wolf shifter laughed.
“Having the alpha’s favor, I suppose it is like being a model. It has less to do with the body and is more about how you use it. Beauty alone won’t hold his interest.”
Astrid made a contemplative sound and continued with her measurements, moving on to Ila’s hips. They were narrow, and may have looked boyish if her legs and rear weren’t so shapely.
After a brief silence, Ila asked, “You’re wondering what holds his interest?”
Astrid shook her head perhaps a little too quickly. “Nope. I was just thinking it’s a good thing I have no flair in the bedroom. He’ll get tired of me quickly.”
“And you want that?”
“Yes.” Before Ila could question her further, she changed the subject. “Why do you think Sabine is trying to be my friend?”
Astrid wasn’t sure that she believed that Sabine was somehow playing her. She’d been nothing but helpful and kind since Astrid had been brought to the den. In fact, she was the only woman that had taken any initiative to befriend her. Though maybe that was a warning sign in and of itself.
“Sabine is in love with Erik.”
Astrid sensed that she was stepping into the realm of gossip. Other people’s business had always held a certain allure for her, as her own life, up until now, had been rather dull. It took every shred of self-control she had to remain silent and refrain from prying.
She didn’t know Sabine and she knew Ila even less, but one thing she did know was that they did not like one another. No good could come of getting in between two feuding women, doubly so when they had claws.
“All done,” Astrid announced, putting the strings in her bag. “I’ll use these measurements to…” She trailed off and looked around, her eyes landing on the bed. “If you don’t mind parting with one of those silk blankets, I could use the material.”
Ila rubbed her chin. “Hm, let me pick one.”
While the shifter sorted through her blankets, Astrid took a peek at the vanity, recognizing her mascara and her favorite tube of lipstick. Her eyes were drawn to the shelf next to the vanity, where dozens of pictures were either framed or propped up against the wood.
She stepped closer to examine the photos. No two pictures had the same people in them. Most of them were family portraits, and they reminded Astrid of the Christmas photos her mom had drug their meticulously dressed and preened family to the first week of every December. The rest were pictures of women. There were a few that were obviously cutouts of models, but the majority were polaroids of young women, posing for an unseen photographer.
“Who are all these people?” Astrid asked.
“No idea,” Ila said airily. “I like to collect them from the trespassers.”
As Ila said this, Astrid noticed that several of the polaroids had drops or smudges of something reddish-brown and crusty. Dried blood. It shouldn’t have bothered her after everything she’d been through, but seeing all of these happy people and knowing that someone they’d loved was probably dead, it struck a chord with her.
“Why do you keep them?” Astrid asked, her throat tight.
“Hm, I never really thought of that. I guess I just like to look at smiling people.”
Oh-kay.
Astrid was about to turn around when one picture seized her attention. In the corner of the shelf was the photo she’d brought with her to Nunavut, the one she’d planned on showing the Amarok pack back when she’d naively believed they’d be eager to help her get her sister back. It was a picture of her and Ginnifer, taken three years ago at a bar. Earlier that afternoon, she’d slipped up and told Ginnifer that she and Neil were considering trying for a baby. Ginnifer had insisted taking Astrid out to celebrate what was supposed to be her pre-pregnancy drink. It had also been the night that Ginnifer had told her she was dropping out of college to pursue a career in filmmaking.
In the months that followed, Ginnifer had been disowned by their family—they took her back, as they always did—and Astrid had began her exhausting struggle with infertility. But on that night at the bar, they had put aside their differences and come together to celebrate new beginnings.
Astrid blinked back tears, looking at Ginnifer’s luminous smile. She was already beautiful, with her golden-brown hair, long neck, and graceful bone structure, but when she turned on that mega-watt smile, even Astrid, who had always held varying degrees of resentment and envy for her, was charmed.
Plucking the picture from the shelf, Astrid pocketed it. She was pretty sure that if she asked for it, Ila would try to argue that it didn’t belong to her.
“I’m not sure which of these I want you to use.”
Astrid turned quickly on her heel to find Ila standing directly behind her. The wolf shifter was holding up a huge pile of silks, all with different colors and patterns. Before Astrid could object, Ila hefted them into her arms.
“Take these and surprise me.”
“Roger that,” Astrid said with forced enthusiasm.
She stepped past Ila to grab her bag, barely managing to pick it up with three fingers. Ila had flopped back onto the bed by the time Astrid was leaving. Pausing at the door, Astrid asked, “Do you think you could help me get back to my room?”
Ila was thumbing through the magazine and didn’t look up as she said, “Sabine left the lantern for you. Just go straight, then left, left, and right.”
“Right…”
Fortunately, the lantern had a handle, and Astrid was able to hold it in the hand that wasn’t carrying the bag, while pinching the silks between her arms. Ila didn’t bother saying goodbye as she l
eft, and neither did Astrid.
Ila’s room had been sectioned off and infused with body heat, which contrasted sharply with the cold tunnel. She walked down the path shivering and wondering if she would ever not be cold again.
Astrid tried to conjure up memories of a humid Miami summer, both to warm herself and to distract herself from the apprehension that she couldn’t shake. The light only seemed to penetrate the darkness a few feet ahead of her, and between that, the echo of her footsteps through the caverns, and the creak of the lantern’s handle as it swayed, she felt like she was in a scary movie.
She tried following Ila’s directions, but the first left she took was a dead end. She backtracked and took a right, but then found herself walking in a straight line for what felt like ages.
The ache in one of her legs intensified into a cramp. She was about to stop and rub it, when she noticed that the lantern’s flame appeared lower. She kept her eyes on it as she walked, realizing that it was indeed beginning to run out of fuel.
Astrid began walking faster, her pulse speeding up to match her new pace. Thoughts of Miami were gone, as her mind traveled to a much darker place. Earlier that year, she had read an old news article about a young woman from Ukraine. She’d gone to a party in the Odessa catacombs, a multi-level underground network of over a thousand miles of tunnels. After becoming separated from her friends, she’d gotten lost. She was believed to have spent three days underground, fumbling in the darkness and doubtlessly scared beyond belief, before she’d succumbed to dehydration and died.
When she’d read the article, Astrid had remembered thinking that there couldn’t be a worse way to die. She had imagined what it must have been like, to be submerged in darkness, lost and alone. Knowing that each turn could be your salvation, or bring you closer to death. Had she held out hope the entire time? Or had she experienced a moment of terrifying clarity—the moment she realized that help would never come, she would never see her home again, and she would die down there?
Just when Astrid was thinking that she couldn’t be any more frightened, she heard something moving in the darkness. At the same time, she hit another dead end. Her heart felt like it was going to leap out of her chest as footsteps approached her from behind.
Enslaved by the Alpha (Shifters of Nunavut Book 2) Page 9