Cold Hearted: An Alaskan Werewolf Romance

by Heather Guerre

The floor abruptly transitioned to hard white tile as we wove between stainless steel kitchen racks crowded with massive cans and jugs of food. We swung past the walk-in cooler and freezer, and rounded a narrow stainless steel work table to reach the sink mounted on the back wall.

  From a rack above the sink, Natasha plucked a big box of baking soda, a jug of white vinegar, and a bottle of blue dish soap.

  “Sweater off,” she commanded.

  I shrugged out of it and handed it over. With only a thin camisole underneath, I was freezing. I wrapped my arms around myself and watched Natasha work. After she’d dabbed a paste of soap and baking soda into all the stains, she laid the sweater in the sink and poured vinegar over the whole mess. We watched it foam.

  “I hope it works. I knitted that sweater myself.” My frustration boiled over. “Just what were they thinking, horsing around in a crowded room like that?”

  Natasha looked smug. “Connor was going to ask you to dance. Caleb told him not to. It turned into a scuffle.”

  He was fighting over me? No. That couldn’t be it. If he wanted to dance with me, he could’ve cut in at any time. He just didn’t want anybody else to dance with me. Was he protecting his friends from me?

  Natasha bent down and began rinsing the stains. To my surprise, the wine seemed to be coming out. After a moment, she grimaced and straightened, fanning at her face.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  Natasha let out a snort. “Hot flashes,” she grumbled. “I need air.” She went to the back door and pushed it open. Cold air blasted in, raising goosebumps all over my body. I huddled against myself and shivered while Natasha stood on the threshold and sighed.

  “Don’t get old, Gracie. It’s nothing but trouble.”

  “It can’t be all bad,” I said. “You get to watch your children grown up. See how their lives unfold. Guide the next generation.”

  Natasha looked back at me with a fond smile. “The Valley was lucky to get you.” Beyond Natasha, shadows shifted at the edge of the forest. “You’re a sweetheart, and I hope—”

  One of the shadows detached from the others, racing forward with dizzying speed.

  “Natasha!” I screamed, lunging for her at the same time the shadow descended on her. It ripped her away from the doorway. With only a faint gasp of surprise, she was gone. The door slammed shut.

  I bolted forward, wrenching the door open, scanning the darkness frantically. There—halfway to the tree line, two figures struggled against each other. The smaller of the two was being dragged inexorably towards the dark of the forest.

  “Natasha!” I grabbed the nearest weapon—a meat cleaver from the magnetic knife strip—and sprinted after them, screaming her name for all I was worth. “Natasha, hang on!”

  The snow came up to my thighs, forcing me to make awkward, lunging leaps. Another shadow flashed into sight on my left, coming from behind me. I gasped and stumbled—a wolf! It raced towards Natasha.

  “No!” I screamed.

  Two more wolves appeared after the first, closely chased by a fourth. They closed in on Natasha with unbeatable speed.

  “Help!” I screamed, hoping someone in The Spruce would hear me—realizing far, far too late that I should have called for help in the first place. But panic had overtaken me, and I’d leapt out the door without thinking.

  The shadow that had taken Natasha straightened suddenly, and I realized it wasn’t a wolf like I’d first thought—it was a man. A tall, powerfully built man who’d emerged from the forest without a coat, and who moved with inhuman speed.

  At the sight of four wolves bearing down on him, the man dropped his hold on Natasha. The dark of the night seemed to condense around him, distorting his shape until I wasn’t certain anymore that it was a man. With that same alarming speed, the shadow leapt to me. I slid to a halt, falling backwards into the snow. Time seemed to slow as I watched the shadow close in on me, reaching for me with hands made of midnight.

  Out of nowhere, another wolf appeared, leaping in front of my body and intercepting the shadow creature. They crashed together and landed hard, kicking up snow as they rolled. Both figures broke apart, and then the wolf lunged. Moonlight flashed over his silvery pelt, his bared fangs, and I realized I recognized him—it was the same big silver wolf I’d seen that night through the dining room windows. Vicious snarls rent the air as he lunged at the shadow again and again, sinking his fangs in and tearing away strips of fabric and flesh.

  I scrambled to my feet, the cleaver still clutched in my hand. The shadow twisted and feinted, surged and fell back, landing a blow against the wolf that sent the animal sprawling. Blood sprayed the snow, vivid and steaming. The shadow straightened—suddenly in the shape of a man again. The moonlight flashed over his face as he turned to look at me.

  My heart stopped. A scream boiled in my throat, but I couldn’t make a sound.

  Alex.

  Three more wolves raced in from behind me, leaping at him. Snarls and barks surrounded me. Just as quickly as he’d appeared, the shadow man with Alex's face condensed back into shapeless darkness. It fled from the wolves, racing over the snow with impossible speed. The wolves gave chase, also impossibly fast. The shadow disappeared into the darkness of the forest, and the wolves plunged after it.

  I was alone again. The sound of my own breathing abraded my ears. I turned to where I’d last seen Natasha—there, still surrounded by wolves. I began running.

  “Grace!” I heard a voice behind me. “Grace, stop!”

  I glanced back. Jess was running to me, closing the distance between us with ease. Adam and Elena sprinted past her, racing towards Natasha and the wolves.

  “Here!” I called to them, waving the cleaver frantically. “For the wolves!”

  “The wolves won’t hurt them.” Jess reached my side. She grabbed my weapon arm and carefully wrestled me to a stop. We were similarly sized, but Jessica was far stronger than me. “Come on, Grace, it’s going to be alright. I need you to come back inside with me.”

  “But—” I tugged against her hold, twisting to look back. Arthur Freeman had Natasha scooped into his arms. Where had he come from? And… “Why is Arthur naked?” I asked faintly, letting Jessica take the cleaver from me.

  “Shh, come on,” Jess soothed. “It’s minus twenty and you’re out here in a camisole and ballet shoes.”

  “I lost my shoes,” I told her dumbly, allowing myself to be led back to the kitchen door. “They came off in the snow.”

  “Well, I hope they weren’t expensive. You’re probably not going to find them until spring.” Jess got me back to the kitchen door. I tried to turn for another look at Natasha, but Jess hustled me inside. A crowd had gathered in the kitchen, watching the mayhem.

  “Out of the way,” Jess ordered. She led me through the parted crowd. “Someone get blankets. And someone fill hot water bottles.” I was vaguely aware of bodies hustling to obey. Jess brought me into the dining room and pushed me to sit on the stone hearth in front of the fireplace.

  A moment later, Arthur emerged with Natasha still cradled in his arms. Someone had draped a blanket over his shoulders.

  “Put me down, kochany,” Natasha said weakly. “I can walk.”

  Arthur ignored her, his face a grim mask. He sank down next to me at the hearth, cradling Natasha in his lap and staring down at her with heart-rending grief on his face.

  “Arthur,” Natasha said softly, freeing one hand to cup his jaw. He shuddered, eyes closing as he leaned into her touch.

  I felt like a voyeur, witnessing the raw emotionality between them. At the same time, the crack in my chest opened even wider. I rubbed at my sternum and looked away from them.

  Jess reappeared with a heap of towels. She draped a few over Natasha. Arthur fussed with them, rearranging them with grave particularity. Jessica knelt in front of me and began wrapping my bare feet with towels. I hissed as I realized she’d warmed them somehow. What was probably pleasantly warm to Jess felt like molten lava to my poor, frozen
feet.

  Connor came from the back hall, his arms loaded with blankets. He draped one around my shoulders, threw another across my lap.

  “She’s not shivering,” he said to Jess, concerned.

  “They should change out of those wet clothes immediately,” somebody said.

  “Good luck prying Tasha out of Arthur’s grip,” somebody else said dryly. Nobody laughed.

  “Grace, what did you see?” Jessica asked me.

  Alex's face flashed into my mind, stark and handsome and terrifyingly familiar. No, I told myself. Impossible. It was a trick of the light—a trick of my terrified mind. It couldn’t have been him. It couldn’t have even been human, whatever it was.

  “No questions,” Arthur growled. “Not until Margaret gets back.”

  I looked up then, scanning the crowd. Margaret, Caleb, Harry, Elena, and Adam were gone. Were they outside? I had only seen Elena and Adam out there, and they hadn’t been wearing coats.

  “Ow,” I hissed as sensation began to return to my feet in the form of a sharp, needling feeling beneath my skin. A small tremor ran down my spine. It seemed to spread slowly outward until my whole body was trembling.

  Jess took note of the change, nodding with satisfaction. She lifted one of my feet and examined it closely. “Doesn’t look too bad,” she told me. “I think you’re going to have a little frostbite, but you’ll keep your toes.” She stood up and helped me to my feet. “You need to change into some dry clothes.” She eyed my thin camisole. “Warm, dry clothes. Come on.”

  She led me to the stairs. My feet tingled painfully beneath my weight.

  “Arthur,” I heard Connor say coaxingly. “You know she doesn’t run as hot as we do. You need to let go of her so she can get into dry clothes.”

  Arthur growled—literally growled—but when I glanced back, he was carrying Natasha down the back hall that led to their living quarters.

  Back in my own room, I was shivering so hard, my teeth were clacking together like castanets. Jess helped me sort my clumsy, useless limbs into the appropriate places so that I could pull off my wet jeans, and step into long underwear and thick fleece pajama bottoms. I slid my arms into the sleeves of a thermal shirt and pulled on a heavy sweatshirt over that.

  As I struggled to pull on some thick wool socks, a sequence of images flashed through my mind. Four wolves racing towards Natasha. Only three humans present—Adam, Elena, and Jessica. Then, out of nowhere, Arthur at Natasha’s side.

  Where had the wolves even come from? Behind me had been The Spruce’s back wall, stretching nearly the entire length of the block. The only thing that made sense was that the wolves had come from The Spruce. And where had Arthur come from? There’d been four wolves to begin with. How many had been there after Arthur appeared?

  I stared at the scene in my memory. An absurd suspicion took hold of me.

  No. No way.

  I’d been freezing half to death, jacked on adrenaline, and terrified out of my mind. My memory of events was not exactly reliable.

  “Grace?” Jess crouched beside me, looking concerned. I’d frozen with one sock halfway on. “Are you okay?”

  I looked into her face, looking for any sign that she was hiding something from me—hiding something really, really bizarre.

  Not possible.

  I shook my head. “I’m fine.”

  I finished pulling my socks on, and Jess herded me to the bed. While she was heaping blankets on top of me, a knock sounded at my door.

  Linnea Teague came in, bearing a tray loaded with supplies—hot broth in a mug, a hot water bottle, a thermometer, and a bottle of painkillers. “Harlan’s with Natasha right now, but he said he’ll check in on Grace in a little bit,” Linnea said, setting the tray on my bedside table. “We need to keep her warm and give her aspirin.” She lifted the hot water bottle and slid it beneath the blankets. “Don’t put your feet directly on the hot water bottle,” Linnea told me. “Harlan said it could make the tissue damage worse.”

  I nodded complacently, still shivering.

  Linnea and Jess looked down on me, like two concerned farmers with a horse they didn’t want to shoot. “It’s good she’s shivering,” Linnea murmured.

  “Mm-hmm,” Jess agreed.

  “Get her to drink the broth while it’s still hot,” Linnea said. “I’m going to go see if Margaret’s back yet.”

  Jess sat with me, holding the mug of broth so that I wouldn’t dump it all over myself, and all but pouring it down the back of my throat.

  My shivering had begun to ease when there was another knock at my door. Jess got up and let Margaret inside. Margaret was hastily dressed, in completely different clothing than she’d been wearing at the party. She had on sweatpants that were way too big for her, a pair of unlaced boots, and an oversized t-shirt that said “What happens in Vegas…”

  “How is she?” Margaret asked Jess. They both looked at me.

  “Fully cognizant,” I said impatiently. I was tired of everyone speaking over my head.

  “Gracie.” Margaret came and sat on the edge of my bed, looking down at me with such warmth that I instantly forgot my irritation. “How are you?”

  “Fine,” I said. “Ready to sleep.” It had to be well past midnight by now.

  Margaret smoothed the edge of the top comforter, tucking it snugly against me. “Of course you are. But before you go to sleep, I need to know exactly what you saw. What happened.”

  Alex's face flashed into my mind again, and I flinched.

  “Grace?” Margaret laid a hand on my shoulder, her face lined with concern.

  Not possible, I told myself. My mind was simply substituting a terror I couldn’t understand with one that I understood all too well. I pushed away thoughts of Alex and tried to find the words to explain what I’d seen. Haltingly, uncertainly, I described the shadow that had attacked Natasha, and the sudden appearance of so many wolves. “I have to be hallucinating,” I told her, half-hoping she’d assure me that I was.

  Instead, Margaret looked grimly resolved. She nodded and looked over to Jess. “That square up with what you saw?”

  “Yeah. I mean… what little I did see.” She shrugged.

  My eyes drifted shut as Jess and Margaret continued to speak in low tones. Sleep tugged at me, blurring their voices into a meaningless hum. Exhausted, I let myself slip into the darkness.

  Chapter Eighteen

  A long creak startled me into half-awake confusion. I blinked into the darkness of my room just as my door clicked shut. How long had I been asleep? It felt like only a second had passed, but my lights were all turned out and the hot water bottle at my feet was no longer hot.

  “How is she?” Caleb’s low voice came from the hall, just outside my door.

  “She’ll be fine,” Margaret answered. “She’s sleeping.”

  I expected to hear the sound of their departing footsteps, but instead, there was a prolonged silence.

  Caleb broke it first. “Tougher than she looks.”

  “Maybe.” Another silence. Then Margaret spoke again, “I worry we haven’t done right by her.”

  “You mean me.”

  “I mean all of us. She’s been hurting since she got here. We invited her here, asked her to live with us, teach our children, care for us… what’s she gotten in return for it?”

  “We look out for her, just like any—”

  “You ever notice she never talks about her parents? That she gets embarrassed when Natasha mothers her? That she doesn’t know how to take a compliment? That’s a woman who’s not used to being taken care of by anybody. She’s not going to take the risk of putting herself out there—because it hasn’t paid off in the past.”

  Caleb said nothing.

  “She knows she’s being held at arm’s length,” Margaret said softly. “And we’re all waiting for her to take the final step. But why should she trust us, when we haven’t trusted her?”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “I’m not even sure
.” She sighed. “Just that something needs to give with her. And I think the give is going to be on our end.”

  “You want to tell her.”

  “Not yet. I need to think. Talk to some people.” Her voice hardened a bit. “And in the meantime, you better fix your attitude. I still claim wardship over her, even if Natasha’s been staking out my claim, and if I hear you’ve been—”

  “I know, Margaret. I told you I was wrong about her.”

  “You were wrong about yourself, too, pup.”

  “No, I admitted the wolf wanted her. But—”

  “You’re full of shit. The man wanted her as much as the wolf.”

  A low growl rumbled.

  “Fine, lie to yourself.”

  The growl faded into a sigh. “Mags. Look what happens with my family and their mates.”

  “Honey, both your mom and your sister were young—maybe too young— and they trusted the wrong people. It happens to the best of us. But age brings wisdom. And you’re not exactly a puppy anymore. Have a little faith in yourself.”

  The sound of their voices, so low and steady, lulled me in and out of sleep. As soon as I heard the words, I forgot what was said. I drifted off again, unsettled and confused, but mostly just exhausted.

  “I miss you, Grace.”

  I opened my eyes to see Alex sitting on the railing outside my window, staring at me glumly.

  I sat up, fighting my way from beneath a mound of blankets. “I told you to leave me alone.” There was an embarrassing quaver in my voice.

  “Don’t say that. You never even gave me a chance. I was going to give you something wonderful, Grace. And you just threw it away.”

  “I don’t want anything from you.”

  “I want to give you eternity. I want to be with you forever.”

  I shook my head. I tried to look away from the piercing intensity of his beautiful eyes, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

  “Alex—”

  “Come with me, Grace. I’ll take care of you.”

  I tried to tell him no, but I couldn’t make a noise. My entire body trembled with the need to get out of bed, to go outside, to find Alex.