by Rebecca Main
“Your guest has arrived.” Gran’s voice lilts. I stare at the door in astonishment, quickly rising and crossing the threshold to answer the door.
“You’re still here,” I say in one breath. Gran looks grimly back at me.
“Only long enough to set some ground rules. Come, dear.” I follow behind her silently, dread beginning to push away all other feelings. The time is now, no matter how much I wish it had never come.
They’re seated in the formal sitting room. Aunt Lydia and Aunt Mo sitting opposite one another in the matching set of floral armchairs, the ones too stiff for my liking, and Xander sits rigidly on the more comfortable loveseat. I eye the very clearly presented empty spot next to him with disdain.
“Now,” Gran says, chin lifting as she eyes Xander from his seated position, “tonight will go as I instruct. Zoelle has questions. You will answer them. Honestly.” She nods to the tea set before him. “After her questioning, you may present your case to Zoelle. After which she will provide you with her decision. Whatever it may be, the coven will support.”
“Because that worked out so well the last time,” he mutters, eyeing me with thinly veiled interest. “I’m sure we can work something out that is amicable to both parties.”
Gran nods and turns to me, her hand squeezing my arm comfortingly. “Trust your gut, honey. We’re all behind you, no matter what you decide.”
I swallow and manage a nod in return, watching dispassionately, and not without a little heartache, as she leaves. The door closes with a quiet click, and I’m forced to look back toward the scene I am left with. Xander’s eyes drift meaningfully to the seat beside him and then back to me with a look that clearly says, “Come now.”
He has his hair styled back tonight. The dark locks held in place by some hair product that smells faintly of cedar. His strong jaw is clean-shaven, and eyes are still a piercing green. He’s dressed rather formally. A crisp white button-down tucked into dark pants, sleeves rolled to the elbows. Everyone watches my slow inspection, waiting patiently for my next move. Just for spite, and a dash of curiosity, I let my gaze linger over the swell of his biceps and well-shaped shoulders. It’s obvious Xander takes care of his body, a characteristic I like in men usually, but not this one.
Swallowing my nerves, I look Xander in the eye before turning and walking purposefully to the kitchen, returning a moment later with a stool. I place it near the staircase in case a hasty retreat is required. Xander frowns. The aunts can barely contain their glee.
I can do this, I think to myself. I am a strong, beautiful, independent woman. My hands fiddle with the red headband I wear, as I take my seat. It takes all of my strength not to fidget with any other aspect of my appearance, though I am acutely aware of Xander’s probing gaze.
Seated, I carefully straighten the crumpled paper I’ve been holding onto like a lifeline. It contains my questions. All three of them. “So,” I clear my throat, “Aleksandr—”
“Xander. Call me Xander.” Summer-field eyes cut through me. How can a person make one’s tone soft, yet so firm? My eyes fall inexcusable to his lips, watching as his tongue quickly darts out to wet them.
“Xander.” His name falls cautiously off my tongue. My honey-brown eyes lock with his as he leans forward. All of his attention rests on me. With more force than should be necessary, I look back down at the crumpled paper. “Are you sure that I’m—that is to say, uh,”—just breathe—“are you sure you’re right?” I blurt out, eyes immediately darting upward to see his reaction.
His lips purse before delivering a curt nod.
“Don’t forget your drink, Adolphus.” Aunt Lydia reminds him sternly. He heaves a sigh, irritation radiating off him as he drinks what is in front of him.
“Yes,” he says firmly. “I’m positive.”
My eyes linger on the tea questioningly. “What exactly is in the tea?”
“A little something to ensure the truth is told. Lunaria,” Aunt Mo explains casually. “Your Ben knows its effects well.”
Ben knows it well? As in, Ben was dealt the same magical truth serum the other night? Anger simmers my blood, then stops cold in its tracks. It means what Ben said was true. When I turn an inquisitive gaze to Aunt Mo my anger returns. She looks anywhere but at my eyes, despite my growing glare. Knowing I can’t stay in this standoff forever, I reluctantly push aside my hurt and anger. This isn’t the time for that conversation.
“Tell me about yourself. Your likes and dislikes. Anything.” An unsteady exhalation escapes after my words. Question number two: check.
Xander cocks his head a small fraction to the left before leaning back into the couch. His eyes still heavy in their assessment of me. I fight a blush under his regard, feeling needlessly self-conscious over my looks. Maybe I should have put on more makeup? Or worn a different outfit. One that didn’t fit so snuggly, showing off my curvy hips and slender waist. Damn, athleisure wear for being so comfortable. Xander’s eyes flick down the length of my body, then back to my eyes, a façade of cool nonchalance drifting over his demeanor.
“I’m the eldest of three and alpha of my pack,” he begins smoothly, and then pauses, as if reconsidering his words. “I assume your coven has informed you of when we first came to Branson Falls, but perhaps not the reason why.
“We come from up north, originally, and belonged to a much larger pack. The Wselfwulf pack. They hold very traditionalist values. A large portion of us found the traditional ways outdated and unseemly. When no change was made from our requests, my father led us in leaving the pack. Acting as my father’s beta, I helped with the transition. For the most part, it seemed the split would be... amicable. We were wrong. With little warning the Wselfwulf pack’s alpha demanded repentance for our slight.” His lips curl at the word. Xander’s feelings of loathing made clear. “And killed my father.”
“That’s awful,” I whisper aghast.
“One day we will have our revenge,” he tells me confidently. His chest expands as he sits straighter, straining the crisp white button-down against his pectorals. “Our pack is growing with those who defect from the Wselfwulf pack, births, and of course, soulmarks found and bound. Each strengthens my pack and me.”
“Right.” The word falls from my lips low and long as I process the information. When silence proceeds, the occupants of the room shift uncomfortably. I keep my eyes steadfast on my paper, a frown developing over my brow before I look at Xander again. “And, that’s it? That’s all you have to say about yourself?”
Xander's eyes widen in some confusion. He looks to both aunts uncertainly before returning his gaze to me. “Pardon?”
“I mean... I sort of knew most of that already. I was hoping more for—I don’t know—what you do for a living, hobbies, maybe your favorite sports team?”
A light, melodious laugh emerges from him. It sends shivers down my spine and curls my toes. Suddenly he oozes confidence and certainty. Xander leans back into his seat as if he holds all the assurance in the world. As if he’s already won this game. His deep-set gaze lingers in their perusal of me. I swallow and shift under the acute scrutiny, unable to control the flush that creeps up my neck.
He’s going to be disappointed with my decision tonight.
“I work as a data analyst. It allows me to work remotely and create my own hours. I enjoy the outdoors: hiking, swimming, hunting.” He says the word like it’s some kind of secret, the word spoken with a languid air and an infinity of unspoken promises behind it. “I don’t follow sports. I much prefer to be active and part of the action than sitting around and watching it happen.”
“Oh.” Xander loses some of his luster at my dismayed response. “Anything else?” I ask hopefully.
Shouldn’t there be more to say to someone you’re trying to win over? A little originality? Or is this bond between us just a means to an end for him to achieve more power? Am I just some possession to acquire and throw away later, when the newness of it all wears off? A wave of uncertainty turns my stomach.
It urges me to flee to my room and lock the door behind me. But I can’t, I think disheartened. There is no reprise for me. I shake the sullen thoughts from my head, tired of running through them over and over again.
“I—” Xander’s mouth opens and closes rhythmically, but no sound comes to pass. “What else do you want to know?” Anything. Something. A crumb that maybe, just maybe, there is something we share in common. A connection. Something other than this damnable mark. Anything but this.
“What do you want?” My words heavy with desperation. The question has him leaning forward again. Gone is his confident attitude, replaced instead with determination.
“You,” Xander says calmly, his words smooth and controlled. “Your heart, your body, your soul. Everything you’re willing to give me and more. I’ll take it all and offer you everything in return if you would just consider….” It’s all said with such gravity, and yet, his words have a lilting touch to them that enthrall me. Tempt me. “Jewels for your body, silks for your skin, a crown to place upon your brow. You would be an alpha. A queen with an army of wolves at your feet willing to serve your every command if you’ll be mine. Bind yourself to me. Let me mark you as my queen. My alpha. My match.”
The soulmark throbs between heart and collarbone, presuming once more to be in possession of its own will at his heady offer. With dismay, I realize that I too lean forward, my body unconsciously curling toward him. Dark lashes sweep down to cover my eyes, brushing tenderly against my burning cheeks. When I open them, he is still there. Along with his persistent gaze. He looks ready to leap across the distance between us and sweep me off my feet. Goodness. The beat of my heart will surely leave a bruise.
His offer is... too much. His entire presence is too oppressing and consuming. Everything. From the way he speaks to the way in which he postures himself is set to entice. A neat trap to pull me to his side without fuss, to come to heel, to lose myself to his will. Something inside me screams and shouts. Alarms sound off inside my head. Giving in now will surely be the end of me; the force of his will almost too painful to resist. But I haven’t come this far in life to succumb to the will of some man.
“Zoe, your questions have been asked. Xander, your offer made. What say you, Zoe?” Aunt Mo asks, breaking the stillness with her declaration.
The words get stuck in my throat. The paper torn and crumpled in my now-closed grasp. It’s now or never. “I think it’s best if we remain… friends.”
Xander snarls. His lips pulling back in disfavor as his eyes alight with renewed fever. “No.”
“Yes,” I respond immediately, sitting up straight and staring him in the eyes. “I have a life. I have a boyfriend.”
“Then end it,” he roars, standing. I slip from my seat as well, hands balled at my waist.
“No.”
“Tell her,” he demands of the aunts. “This is not acceptable.”
“Oh, I think it’s by far more than you could have hoped or asked for,” Aunt Lydia drawls. Her eyes gleam with soft alertness. The lights flicker, a tinkling and small surging of energy pulsing through the room as Xander and I remain in our standoff.
Just breathe. “Friendship is all that I can offer you.”
He rubs a hand over his face, raking his hand through his neatly kept hair as he lets out an indignant huff. “I would offer you the world, and it would not be enough? Is that what I am to believe?”
“I don’t want—”
“You think your boyfriend will satisfy you more than I could? Is that it?”
I go stiff. “I love him.”
Xander barely contains his scoff. “And you’ll learn to love me, in time. And when that time comes, what then of your precious boyfriend?” I remain silent, jaw clenched tightly shut. “The forces that bind us together cannot be ignored, and I will not let you ignore them.”
“I’m trying to be fair, all right?” I finally yell, “What do you expect me to do? Follow you obediently around like some lovesick puppy? I have a life, and just because you’ve suddenly found yourself inserted into it doesn’t mean you get to walk all over it. You don’t get to push everything I care about to the wayside!”
“I wouldn’t—”
“You would!” I shout over him and take a step forward. “You ask for everything, and I can’t give you that.” My earnest plea seems to cut through him, his shoulders dropping as his righteous anger fades. “I can give you friendship. That’s... that’s it.”
He seats himself, his mouth narrowing to resemble something akin to a gash across his perfect face. “Friendship,” he says tersely. “I accept.”
“You do?” I cannot hide my surprise, the well of outrage suddenly tapped dry. “Seriously?”
He nods resolutely, “Yes.” The room remains silent for a time, the aunts passing between them an unreadable look as Xander stares contemplatively down at the table in front of him. “And what are the terms of this friendship you offer?”
Uh...
“I don’t know,” I tread cautiously. Terms of friendship? “Um, just what normal friendships are?” I don’t mean for it to sound so much like a question, but I can’t help my uncertainty. This isn’t what I expected to happen. I haven’t prepared for this.
“So, the terms of the friendship are negotiable?”
Eyes turn to me expectantly as I weigh his words. Maybe having set terms to the friendship won’t be such a bad thing. With ground rules in place, maybe things will play out more smoothly. “Okay,” I finally say, taking my seat again, “Did you have anything in mind?”
He flashes me a grin, his dimple winking at me as he eyes me with renewed interest. “Only one, you must see me every day. As you know, going prolonged periods of time without contact can cause discomfort. For both parties.”
“I’m sure we can manage a few days in between seeing each other.”
“But at what cost to our sanity?” he counters quickly.
“Oh, I think I’ll manage just fine,” I respond.
“You think you’ll be immune to the bonds ill-effects?”
“I think I’ll handle it better than you.” We both know the words to be true. I have an arsenal of teas and other magical medleys to help me get on. Surely some of them can offer me comfort. Xander swallows.
“Six days a week then.”
“Three.”
He scoffs, a frown deeply embedded between his brow. “Three days? You’re being ridiculous.” He all but snarls.
“Well, I’d hardly say that.” Aunt Mo scolds lightly. His frown only cuts deeper.
“You were right when you said you would be able to handle our absence better than I,” he concedes. “Knowing that, you may expect my attentions to be more zealous on the days we do agree to meet and spend time together. Bare that in mind, Zoelle.” I frown at his use of my given name but let it pass. “If I am allowed to only be in your presence for three days, then I shall have you for the entirety of those day. It will be the only way to sate my sanity.”
I worry the paper between my fingers, “Four days, and we’ll spend afternoons together.”
“Five and we spend the evenings together.” I gape and a gasp escapes at his rebuttal. “Not overnight, Baudelaire, just the evenings. From five till ten I think should do. We can spend time together over meals and good wine.”
“Six until ten. Four nights a week.”
Xander heaves a rather aggressive sigh, mulling over my proposition until countering. “Four evenings of the week, from six till nine, and your Sunday mornings.”
I avoid his eyes. “And is there a time limit for Sunday mornings as well?”
“Hmm…” His smirk returns. “Eight until eleven? Surely that’s fair.” He tosses the last word at me with a hint of a smile.