Alpha’s Hunger Box Set: Books 1-3

by Wilder, Carina

  “You’ll be fine,” he said, pulling my chair out for me. He slipped my coat off my shoulders and handed it to the host. Suddenly I felt naked. I threw myself into my seat, trying not to let my body fold in on itself in a moment of utter shyness.

  When Tristan had seated himself, he leaned forward. He was dressed in a charcoal gray suit with a crimson silk tie to match my dress, and he looked amazing. “Don’t worry about the eyes,” he said. “They’re not judging you.”

  “I can’t help it. If this were New York, the women wouldn’t just be staring. They’d be whispering to each other about the scandalousness of my dress. It would be bitchy, but at least I’d know what they were thinking. But here, they’re just…staring.”

  A strange, knowing smile flashed over Tristan’s lips. “They’re curious,” he said. “That’s all.”

  “About what? I’m sure you bring a lot of women here. I don’t see why I should seem interesting to them.”

  He shook his head. “A lot of women? Try zero.”

  My heart skipped a beat. “Zero? Wait—you’re really saying I’m the first?”

  “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “So what the hell? Are you telling me you come in here alone?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying. I’ve been in here thousands of times on my own. Sometimes with a male friend. But never with a lover.”

  Suddenly I was all pride and pomposity. I sat up in my seat, thrust my shoulders back, my chest out. Now I owned this place. Okay, Tristan did. But I was his one and only love interest to ever have graced its environs. That had to count for something.

  “Pretty pleased with yourself, aren’t you?” he laughed.

  “Sort of, yeah. I mean, this is quite a day for me. So many firsts. I got to ride in a private jet, I got to…well…I got a taste of Tristan Wolfe. He got a taste of me. Now this? I feel pretty special for once.”

  “You should feel special all the time, Ariana.”

  The words brought a smile to my lips. I felt the brief tease of happiness stroke itself over my heart. Happiness that I knew would fade soon enough.

  We ordered steak and wine. Tristan didn’t touch me while we ate, but he stared with a ferocious energy that made me feel as though we were in constant, sensual contact. I didn’t feel him take his eyes off me for a second, and for once I didn’t flinch under his gaze or assume that there was anything wrong with me. I simply enjoyed basking in the glow he cast on my body.

  “You have a serious intensity about you, Mr. Wolfe,” I said after a while. “Sometimes I don’t know what to make of it.”

  “Make of it that I’m hungry for you,” he murmured, drawing himself close. “This meal is delicious, but truth be told, I can’t wait to get another taste of you.”

  I smiled and looked down at the white cloth napkin in my lap. “I don’t think I’ve ever blushed so many times in my life as I have since meeting you,” I said. “I thought I was too much of a cynic to react in such a girly way to any man, but you…you make me ridiculous.”

  “I like when you blush. It means that blood is flowing to all the right places.” He leaned even closer. “I imagine, right now, that your nipples are flushed dark pink, and waiting for my lips.”

  I wanted to pass out with the thought of him spending more time with my nipples. “You imagine right,” I said. “Other parts of me are stimulated, too.”

  “Oh?” His right eyebrow arched upwards.

  I nodded. “I almost wish I’d worn panties.”

  Tristan reached under the tablecloth and slipped his fingers under the hem of my dress to work their way up my thigh. I pulled my legs apart, inviting him closer.

  When he’d found my wetness he let out a moan that might have been just a little too loud for polite company, though no one seemed to swing around and glare. “I’d like to taste you right now,” he whispered.

  “I’d like that too,” I whispered in return, my gaze darting around to see if anyone had figured out what we were up to. “But I don’t imagine it would go over so well, even if you do literally own this place.”

  “We’ll be back in the car soon enough,” he replied, leaning back and licking his fingers clean, which only made me hornier. He grabbed his napkin and dabbed at his mouth. “Then back to my place. But first, I have something important to ask you: have you considered my offer?”

  “Your offer?” I asked. “You mean the deed to the theater?”

  He nodded. “I’ve seen your portfolio, your designs. I know your passion for live theater. I’d like you to help me keep that place alive.”

  I swallowed a gulp of wine and closed my eyes for a second, asking myself if I was nuts.

  “I’ve considered, and I accept,” I told him, opening my eyes again with a quick wince. “Even though I know I might regret it.”

  “You won’t,” he told me. “I’m very pleased to hear it. If it’s all right with you, I’ll let the cast and crew know. They’ll be overjoyed to hear that they will keep their jobs—at least some of them.”

  “Yes, please let them know,” I told him. If no other good came of this agreement of ours, then at least I’d make a lot of actors and crew members very happy. My decision would ensure employment for them for years to come.

  Tristan signaled a waiter over. “Champagne,” he said, “and two glasses. We have something to celebrate.”

  He took my hand as the man disappeared and kissed it. As the sensation of his lips on my flesh shimmered through my body, another jolt of pure happiness filled my chest.

  Happiness, however, has a way of coming to a crashing halt.

  A few seconds later, the same waiter strode over again and leaned down to whisper something in Tristan’s ear. He had no champagne in hand. No glasses. Nothing, in fact, but a slightly terrified look on his face.

  “What? Right now?” Tristan asked him, pulling back, and the guy nodded.

  “Where are they?” Tristan added.

  The man whispered something again. I couldn’t make anything out; all I could see was the reaction in my companion’s eyes.

  Anger. Concern. Pain.

  Nothing good.

  “What is it?” I asked. “What’s happening?”

  “Fucking hell,” Tristan shot out loudly enough that everyone around us could hear it. He slammed the cloth napkin that had been sitting on his lap onto the table. “I should never have brought you here, Ariana. I should never have taken you out of New York. You need to leave.” He pulled his cell phone out of the inner pocket of his jacket. “There’s something I have to do. Kara will drive you back to the cabin. When you get there, under no circumstances do I want you to go outside, not even to go for a walk.”

  “What? That’s silly. Besides, Kara’s miles away,” I protested. “Can’t you…”

  But the look on Tristan’s face told me everything I needed to know. “She’s close by,” he said. “By the time you put your coat on, she’ll be outside waiting for you. I’m very sorry, Ariana, but there’s something I need to do that can’t wait. Just, please—do as I ask.”

  “Okay, then. Will I see you later?” I asked, trying to hold back the tears that were trying so hard to rim my eyes.

  “I hope so.”

  Well, that was…vague.

  With that, he rose to his feet and gestured for the host to bring my coat to me. When I had it on, I headed to the front door, highly skeptical that Kara could possibly show up anytime soon. But sure enough, Tristan’s Land Rover pulled up to the curb a few seconds later. My driver reached over and pushed the passenger door open for me.

  “Get in, Ariana,” she said, her tone curt.

  I obeyed, though I wasn’t remotely happy about it. None of this was making sense to me. Tristan’s sudden mood change, whatever emergency was pulling him away. What could possibly have happened in the mountains that would require his attention? And why the fuck couldn’t he tell me about it?

  “Can you tell me what’s going on?” I asked, looking o
ver at the beautiful, tall woman behind the wheel who always seemed to step into my life at the worst moments.

  She shook her head. “No. I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  Something in her body language told me she was worried. Tense. Afraid. Just as Tristan had been.

  “Is Tristan in danger?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “But Mr. Wolfe is often in danger. He always comes out of it all right, so you don’t need to worry too much about him. It’s the others that you need to worry about.”

  “The…others?” I asked. “What others?”

  But she didn’t speak again.

  * * *

  When we’d arrived back at the house, I slipped into my bedroom, closed the door and threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I didn’t bother with a bra; what was the point? I had a bad feeling that if I actually saw Tristan again that night, it would be damn near morning. Whatever craziness he was up to, it wasn’t something that was going to resolve itself quickly.

  I walked out onto the balcony that housed the large hot tub and looked out over the silhouetted mountains on the horizon. I wanted to feel happy, to feel complete, like I’d managed earlier.

  But my joy was long gone.

  With a dash of heartbreak, it hit me that I missed him already. I missed his presence, the promise of his touch. I missed the joy in his eyes—the joy that had been shot down the moment the waiter had come by with ugly news.

  It frightened me to realize how much I wanted him with me. How much I’d come to need him.

  I hadn’t missed any person since my sister’s death. Hadn’t felt a hole in my heart like this in years. I’d numbed myself for so long that I didn’t know what to do with the feeling of desire that built constantly around my lover. Didn’t know how to fight off the attraction, to keep it at bay.

  I wasn’t even sure I wanted to.

  But something told me I should brace myself for the worst.

  I headed back inside, sealed the doors, plopped down on the soft couch on one side of the room, and turned the TV on. Some home renovation show sprang to life and I stared at it, registering nothing of what its perky host was saying. I felt wretched, trapped in a house in the middle of the mountains with a mysterious woman who probably didn’t want me there.

  My naughty getaway had turned into a self-pity fest for one.

  Chapter 17

  By midnight I found myself going stir crazy. It was a feeling that my father used to call “Shack-Whacky,” that sensation of cabin fever that sets in when you isolate yourself far from civilization with no company but your own tortured, lonely mind.

  I was desperate enough for human contact—any contact at all, really—that I was even contemplating seeking out Kara for some girl time. Even if she couldn’t tell me what was going on, anything would have been better than sitting on my hands, wondering where Tristan was, if he was safe, if I’d ever see him again.

  But something told me if I talked to her it would only freak me out. She’d been so odd in the car, so hard to read. She was a strange woman anyhow, but I’d felt this wall around her, like she was trying to protect me and herself from some outside force that could hurt us both.

  Maybe I’d imagined it. All I knew was that I hadn’t felt like this in a long time—this feeling of foreboding, of danger. Of loss.

  Not since the night my father had died, when I was twelve years old. I still remembered hearing about the accident. Remembered my mother running out of the house, leaving me there alone, waiting in horror for any news.

  I’d loved my father. He was my world. Tristan wasn’t, at least he wasn’t supposed to be. He was supposed to be a guy I hardly knew. A man I’d never kissed on the lips. He was nothing more than a fantasy that I’d pumped up too much in my own mind. So why did I feel the pain of his absence in the marrow of my bones?

  What was wrong with me?

  On the table in front of me my phone buzzed, drawing a throb from my chest. I reached over to grab it, only to see a text from Clarissa.

  Just checking in. How are things? I heard a weird rumor about the theater. Was wondering if you could confirm or deny…anyhow, I hope all is well!

  I could have answered her. Could have told her about Tristan, about his offer of the deed and my acceptance. But right now it all seemed so far removed from me, from my emotional state, that I couldn’t face it. I was withdrawn from my own existence.

  I rose to my feet and padded over to the French doors that led out to the balcony. Slipping out silently, I pressed into the railing only to spot two silhouettes on the lawn below.

  I could hear the quiet roundness of Tristan’s deep voice, his form shadowed against the dark woods. I could tell by the shape of the other shadow that he was talking to Kara. No doubt he was telling her what had happened. Why he’d left me so abruptly.

  As my eyes adjusted to the dark, my emotions began to collide inside me. I was relieved, of course, to see that he was all right. But I could barely fight back the violent pang of envy that hit me, to know he’d gone to her first. He was confiding in his receptionist before coming to check on me. That hardly boded well for the future of our relationship.

  I had no idea what the two of them were talking about, other than the fact that it was serious. But after a few minutes, Kara let out a cry that could only be described as a wail of utter anguish. Tristan grabbed hold of her and pulled her tight to his body, like he was trying to keep some deep pain from setting in.

  He was shielding her like I wished he would shield me.

  All of a sudden I was beginning to feel like I was invading their privacy. But there was something else, too.

  The feeling that I no longer belonged in this place.

  Maybe I didn’t fit into this world of his. It was beyond my understanding, beyond my grasp. I’d probably never manage to get Tristan to care about me like he obviously cared about Kara. Which meant that I shouldn’t have come with him in the first place.

  As quietly as I’d stepped out, I turned and walked back into the bedroom, my stomach tying itself in tight, destructive knots. I sat down on the edge of the bed, fidgeting with my fingers as I tried to work out what to do. I wished I had a car, a plane of my own—any means to escape this place. Suddenly I had no idea why I’d come, why I thought it was a good idea to isolate myself with a man who was clearly wrapped up in affairs he’d never trust me enough to tell me about.

  Finally, a knock sounded at the bedroom door. For a few seconds I considered not answering, but when a second series of knocks came, I rose reluctantly to my feet and trudged over.

  “I’m back,” Tristan said a little too cheerfully when I’d opened the door. Clearly he took me for an idiot.

  “Yes, you are, aren’t you?” I stared at him, my expression probably as sour as my insides were feeling.

  “And you’re not happy to see me,” he replied, frowning. “Listen, Ariana, I’m sorry for what happened—I’m sorry I had to leave like that. It was an emergency. A matter of life and death.”

  I turned and strode over to the couch, plopping myself down hard. “Right. A matter of life and death. I don’t suppose you’re going to explain it to me, though,” I said. “Are you?”

  “I can’t explain it,” he said. “Except to say that things have become too dangerous here. I’m too dangerous. I told you I made a mistake by bringing you here. You shouldn’t be with me, Ariana. It was stupid of me. A mistake, to think I could make this work. I take full responsibility.”

  I let out a snort of derision. “I don’t suppose you’re going to explain what you mean by that,” I said, staring at him. He pulled his eyes away to look towards the window. “No, of course you aren’t,” I added. “You tell your fucking assistant what’s going on, but not me.”

  His mouth set itself in a stern grimace. “So, you were outside, watching us,” he said. “I thought I picked up your scent.”

  At that, I let out a guffaw. “My scent? Right, because you’re a dog,” I said. “A bloodhound, right?
You can smell me from a mile away.”

  He didn’t reply. Instead, he just turned and stared at me, those feral eyes of his focused like intent lasers. I felt like he was waiting for me to come to my senses. But that wasn’t going to happen. I was too angry. My walls had come up with a vengeance and there was no way I was going to let him break them down again.

  “You should leave, Ariana,” he said. “You should get far away from me, and we shouldn’t…be together.”

  With those words of his, the quiet rage that had been burning inside my chest twisted into a sharp, acute pain. He was right, and I knew it. But it hurt. Somehow, I’d let myself get wrapped up too tight in the web that was Tristan Wolfe, and now the thought of actually pulling myself away was like torture.

  “You’re right,” I said miserably. “I should get far away from you. But not because you’re dangerous. I should leave because you don’t fucking trust me, Tristan. You don’t trust me enough to let me into your world.”

  For a few more seconds we locked eyes, a silent battle of wills raging between us. But he didn’t argue.

  “I’ll have Kara take you to the airfield,” he said. “They’ll fly you back tonight.”

  “No,” I replied. “I don’t want to spend time with her. Call me a taxi. I’ll get there on my own. If she has to co-pilot, fine. But I don’t want to be near her.”

  I didn’t want any reminder of what had happened, of the intimacy I’d witnessed between them. I just wanted to get away so the tightness in my chest could disappear. So that I could breathe again.

  “Fine,” he said. “Be ready to leave in ten minutes.”

  He left the room, shutting the door behind him.

  I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see him again.

  The only thing I knew was that I was better off in New York, far from the bastard who was doing his damnedest to break my unbreakable heart.

  Chapter 18

  I woke up in my own bed around noon on Sunday and stretched my arms over my head, my mind not yet awake. For a moment I’d forgotten what had happened, how shattered I’d felt the previous night.