by Rebecca Main
A flash of disappointment courses through the bond, and Xander quickly averts his gaze toward the street. “Of course. I understand.”
“Maybe the next day?”
Xander snaps his attention back to me. His forest green eyes effortlessly pinning me in place with their intensity. “Yes,” he says, voice mildly breathless.
“But as friends.” Xander nods.
“Of course.” My heart gives a strange flutter as Xander beams at me.
When we finally depart, he pulls me into a giant hug, his face burying itself between my neck and shoulder. Xander pulls back abruptly, eyes dilated and cheeks flushed before leaving with a short inclination of his head. It leaves me oddly… unsatisfied. And now I can’t stop thinking about him and our “not date” with Atticus in a couple of days. On my walk home, I overanalyze every word passed between us.
It seems to be a reoccurring problem in my life now, thinking of that man.
+++
“Don’t worry, man. I won’t tell anyone you like The Notebook,” Atticus says.
I bite my lip to keep from laughing as Xander heaves a heavy sigh and rolls his eyes upward. He doesn’t fight back. He hasn’t for the past hour, choosing instead to endure Atticus’ ceaseless comments and comebacks as we tour the zoo.
The friendly ribbing does wonders in wearing down Xander’s tightly wound personality. By the time we reach the wolf enclosure I feel I hardly recognize him.
He walks with an easy gait; exuding confidence effortlessly with a smile and laugh that draws stares from the women we pass. It certainly draws my attention. Where is the domineering alpha I’ve encountered these past few weeks? And who is this charming and refined man who has replaced him? Xander catches my stare and shoots me a sly wink, laughing at the punch line of Atticus’ joke.
I direct my smile toward the ground, and find a laugh bubbling up my throat as well. Never did I imagine myself in this scenario.
“So, Zoe, want to hear some embarrassing stories about our fearless alpha?” Atticus leans against the enclosure railing, an easy smile on his face that makes his crystal blue eyes twinkle merrily.
“Yes.”
“No.”
A large smile splits my lips at Xander’s quick rebuttal, and our trio gives into another bout of laughter. Xander comes to stand on my other side, leaving me sandwiched between the two impressive men as we stand in front of the wolf enclosure. Warmth radiates from their bodies. A characteristic common in all lycans as their body temperatures run a few degrees higher than the average human. Or so Atticus says. It’s a pleasant feeling nonetheless, on this rather cool, sunny day.
“I don’t see any wolves,” I murmur. My eyes flit from left to right across the grassy enclosure to no avail.
“Back left, near the boulder.” My eyes follow the direction, and I let out a soft hum of appreciation. When I glance to my right at Atticus, he is staring out into the pathway. My eyes narrow on him, and, as if sensing my gaze, he passes me a lazy smile. His expression is entirely too smug as he stares me down with his cerulean eyes.
“How did you know without looking?” His smile grows larger.
“Wolves,” Xander comments, “always know where other wolves are.” Atticus wiggles his eyes brows at me, and I scoff in return, turning slowly to face Xander who wears an entirely too pleased smile as well.
“Any other fun wolf facts I should know?”
A pleasant sensation whirls in my stomach at his pleased look. His smile softening from its smug lift to one of genuine pride. I note the way his chest broadens on an inhalation, while he rolls his shoulders back. The bulging muscles of his pectorals and biceps straining momentarily against his polo.
“A few things,” he says, voice lowering an octave. The hair on the back of my neck comes to attention as I hold back my blush.
“The females and males have separate ranking order,” Atticus says.
“Separate ranking order?”
I take a step back from the railing to form our grouping into a triangle instead of a straight line and wait for Atticus to continue.
“Alpha, beta, the in between, and omega. When soulmarks are involved, lycan or otherwise, they inherit the rank of the higher placed wolf. You,” Atticus explains smoothly, “are an alpha.”
I take time to process Atticus’s words, but find my thoughts slipping to memories of Xander’s first impassioned speech to me.
Jewels for your body, silks for your skin…
You would be an alpha…
My alpha… A queen
Heat simmers behind Xander’s regard. His eyelids held at half-mast as he watches me react. I do my best to keep my heartbeat under control and give Atticus a short smile.
“And your soulmark would be a beta?” He nods, his eyes widening and his smile becoming brighter.
“She will.”
Xander chortles. “Don’t get him started. You’ll never hear the end of it. Why don’t you ask another question?”
“I don’t know... I think I understand the lycan culture fairly well.” Both men stand a bit taller at my enunciation, and I bite back a grin. Folding my arms behind my back I step back towards the railing, eyeing the lone wolf in the enclosure with a thoughtful furrow to my brow. “Lycans are both man and wolf. Originally, free to shift from one form to the other, until a wicked witch—” both wolves snort in unison “—placed a curse upon your kind. Said curse suppresses your ability to shift, meaning you may only do so at the full moon. The alpha is only as strong as his pack, and that doesn’t just refer to the size of a pack. It’s a variety of things. Love and loyalty. Soulmarks and children born into the pack.”
“Don’t forget, she-wolves,” Atticus chimes in. “She-wolves are rare among our kind and for some reason have always bolstered the pack and alpha’s strength.” Of course, how could I forget?
“How do you know all this?” Xander asks curiosity tainting his voice.
I pass him a coy look over my shoulder. “Your sister, of course.” Xander barks out a laugh, leaning in toward me with a happy grin, but stops infinitesimally short of reaching me. A light breeze catches my curls, sending them skirting in front of my face. My hand reaches to brush them back, knocking into Xander’s knuckles in the process. Our eyes meet and I feel my throat tighten. The moment between us holds entirely too long. Slowly he retreats. His eyes still warm, but somewhat guarded as his hand falls to his side.
“So,” he says, “what shall we see next?”
+++
We meet again a few days later for another “not date”. This time around there is no Atticus to buffer the underlying tension between us, but a handful of witches milling about us in the forest. We forage for magical herbs and plants, wearing funny violet-lensed goggles to spot them and their magical “glow”. Well, Xander and I are wearing funny goggles. The other witches have no need for them, as they are already well versed in each plants identity.
“My mother said she spoke to you the other night,” Xander says. My head bobs in agreement as I snip a pale pink flower from a tangle of thorny vines. With the goggles I can see the glittering particles that emit from the flower. Like catching dust in the sunlight, the particles are faint but stand out through the violet lens.
“Uh huh.”
“So, it went well?” There is an unusual hesitance to his voice, and I cast a look over my shoulder to better look at him. Xander looks calm and collected, despite looking completely ridiculous with his goggles and the basket he carries with our bounty. A closer look reveals the stiffness in his posture and the subtle creases lining his forehead.
“Uh huh.” The lines on his forehead deepen, and a smirk curves my lips as I rise. “Worried?”
Xander pushes up his goggles and shoots me a plaintive glare. “You’re not going to tell me either I suppose.”
“It’s really none of your business,” I respond, brushing off my knees after placing the delicate flower near a few other of its kind in the basket. Xander’s chest puffs up, a
nd his scowl turns a touch icier. I raise an eyebrow in response, or try to at least through the large goggles, and he deflates.
“I… suppose.” My smirk remains. Several times this outing he has subdued his more domineering nature in favor of something more approachable. Pushing my own goggles upward I soften my smirk into a smile.
“We don’t just talk about you, you know?” Xander shakes his head. “We talk about her day and mine. And yes, sometimes you’re mentioned, but not as much as you think.”
It’s as though I’ve lifted a weight of his shoulder. His posture relaxes with a quick sigh, his shoulders sinking from their rigid position as he shuffles forward, inhaling deeply. A delicate breeze rustles through the air not a second later, and I blush seeing the way Xander’s eyes dilate.
“No talk of magic?” My dark curls bounce as I turn my head side to side.
“We try to keep the conversation neutral.”
“Well,” he states softly, “maybe you should. I’ve certainly enjoyed today’s lesson.” I swallow and avert my gaze.
“Does magic really make you feel itchy?” I ask after a moment. Xander smirks when I peek back at him.
“Somewhat, yes. My skin feels tighter when I’m around it. I can’t help but be more alert.”
“Does that mean I make you feel… itchy?” Amusement colors my tone as I hold back a laugh, but Xander’s eyes only darken in response.
“You’re most certainly an itch I’d like to scratch.” The amusement drains at the low pitch of his voice, and I’m positive a rosy flush covers my neck and cheeks. A shiver crawls lazily up my spine as I continue to stare into Xander’s eyes. Something cracks in the distance, and a shout of laughter from a pair of witches breaks the spell we are under.
I clear my throat and avert my eyes, spotting immediately to my left a cluster of bright purple-pink flowers, sporting four petals each. My feet propel me toward it without hesitation, and Xander slowly follows. I know this magical flower without the aide of the goggles.
“That’s lunaria,”
“Ah.” Xander’s eyes flash knowingly. The small crease in between his eyebrows the only tell of his displeasure. “The truth plant.”
“Yes.”
When the moment turns too long I begin to fidget. My fingers fussing with the hem of my tunic top. I chance a glance at Xander as he remains mute. He stares at the flowers with a carefully blank expression on his face. Though I note the turn of his full lips are slightly down.
“Sorry about, you know, the whole making you drink lunaria—”
“Don’t apologize,” he interrupts with a quick shake of his head. “You were completely within your rights to do so.” Another dreaded silence hangs between us as his lush green eyes pin me to the spot. I feel a tightness squeeze my chest, drawing the air painfully from my lungs as I hold his gaze.
“I think it’s a habit of theirs.” The words come out of my mouth before I can stop them, and I internally cringe.
Xander’s eyes narrow a fraction, and his head tilts to the side. “Who has what habit?”
“The aunts. They gave Ben lunaria too.” This time my cringe is visible. Don’t I know how to hold my tongue?
“I see,” he murmurs, watching me far too intently. “And did he face the same inquisition as I?” I snort before I can help myself.
“At least you knew what was happening. Poor Ben had no idea why he was saying the things he did. Neither did I. I just thought he was overly nervous. I couldn’t fathom a better reason for him to say the things he did.”
My sneakers idly kick a small stone near my side. I watch it skid away pensively, ignoring how the soulmark tingles against my skin and Xander’s ever vigilant gaze.
“What exactly did he say?”
I shake my head, risking a peek at Xander’s intent regard. “Nothing important.” Just casual chauvinism. Xander chuckles at my sudden, yet severe frown.
“That bad, huh?” I let out a chuckle of my own. Driving my gaze back toward the grouping of flowers, less I stare too attentively at the dark patches of hair spotting his jaw line.
“Something about women being in the kitchen,” I offer with forced nonchalance, though swallowing past the sudden lump in my throat proves more difficult than I thought.
“I’m sure he didn’t mean any harm by it,” Xander says. My gaze darts toward him once more, not quite believing what I’ve heard. Xander reads my expression neatly and shrugs. “I’m trying, all right?” Another chuckle pushes past my lips, and we fall into a more comfortable silence.
“Thank you for that.” Xander ducks his head. The soulmark pulses against my skin, and with it comes an almost bashful excitement. It makes my heart skip a beat. “We should head back,” I say a bit breathlessly. Xander nods wordlessly, and we walk back toward Gran’s.
Although we share no more words on the journey back, it’s hard to ignore the looks we pass between us: furrowed brows or wide-eyed glances. Our lips pouted or thinned to a harsh line. My heartbeat increases with each step as I ponder what to say, or if there is anything left to say at all.
“I’ll leave you with this then.” Xander passes me the basket filled with greenery and stands closer than necessary at the back door of Gran’s house. “You wouldn’t happen to have any lemon and ginger tea inside, would you?”
I swallow sharply, at his hope filled eyes. “Ye—”
Bzzz bzzzt; bzzz bzzzt; bzzz bzzzt; bzzz bzzzt
I fish my phone from my pocket, the color on my face draining as I stare at the caller ID. Xander’s stunted growl tells me he sees the name as well.
“Another time perhaps,” he tells me stiffly, walking off before I can get in a word. Leaning against the back door I answer the phone, watching Xander stride off with a frown tugging at my features.
“Hi Ben.”
+++
I’m once more a patron at Luna Café. Shredding to bits my paper napkin, as I await Ben’s arrival. Since talking the other day, we arranged to meet for a few short hours while Ben had the time.
I shift in my oversized sweater, relishing the early autumn sun and the cool breeze that carries over the river. Although my love life is about to mimic the state of my napkin, at least Ben will know the truth.
“Hey, gorgeous.”
“Ben!” I stand and am immediately swallowed into his arms and lifted off my feet. I giggle girlishly as he twirls me around, only setting me down once my laughter has faded.
He places a kiss eagerly to my lips, “Zoey!” Ben’s excitement is contagious, but it can’t quite quell the guilt I feel for what I’m about to do.
“How are you? Here, take a seat. Eat something!”
“Thanks!” He picks at the food off my plate, enjoying the house-made chips the best. “I can’t stay long. We’re working on a project about an hour out of Branson Falls, and I just got the call I’ll need to be in earlier than expected to work on it.”
“Ah, that would explain the time change and why I had to order food,” I reply, taking a decisive bite of my deli sandwich. It’s probably for the best that this lunch date is going to run short. I can’t imagine Ben wanting to hang around a second longer than necessary after I tell him about Xander.
“Yeah.”
“Listen, Ben….” My heart pounds painfully against my ribs as I summon the words. “I—”
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Zoe Baudelaire,” I tense at the voice, my head whipping around to see the smirking face of Ryatt. Oh no.