Alpha’s Hunger Box Set: Books 1-3

by Wilder, Carina

  Chapter 9

  We flew home the morning after the wedding and tucked ourselves comfortably back into our lives in Tristan’s penthouse apartment in Manhattan. I was so ready to begin planning our quiet Louisiana wedding.

  We’d decided on the flight home that we were going to head to New Orleans in three weeks, a timeline which was his somewhat mysterious suggestion. When I’d asked why we weren’t going sooner, he’d said, “We…can’t.”

  “Why not?” I’d asked. “Can’t you shuffle some business meetings around?”

  “It’s not that,” he’d told me with a shake of his gorgeous head. “It’s that I have a surprise for you…but it’s going to take a few more days to arrive.”

  “You mean to arrive here?”

  “No. Down south.”

  “You know I always like a surprise down south,” I’d said with an arched eyebrow and a suggestive smile.

  After that, I’d let the topic go. His surprises were always amazing, and far be it from me to put a wrench in the works.

  For the next several days, I worked at my theater each day from nine to five. I’d all but forgotten what it felt like to be a regular person with a job; Tristan had spoiled me to the point where I’d grown accustomed to feeling more like pampered royalty. Ever since my lover had offered me the deed to the theater early in our relationship, he and I had pored over architectural designs, plotting our renovations. Already we’d had the backstage area rebuilt, which meant that I had a new office on the second floor, overlooking West 44th Street. The dressing rooms, too, had been spruced up, fitted with new furniture, closets, and mirrors. That change had been Tristan’s request, as he didn’t want me wandering into the space where I’d been attacked several weeks back.

  Now the building felt new again. The only step left was a complete overhaul of the seats and carpeting in the main theater—which was a huge project that would delay our season by over a month.

  Everything about my new office was beautiful—corner floor to ceiling windows, leather furniture, an antique desk hand-picked by Tristan. He knew how I liked old things, and often commented about how he was living evidence of it. Of course the man looked like he was all of thirty-three years old; his shifter blood meant that he hadn’t aged in two hundred years.

  My job had evolved from designing (and occasionally even hand-painting) sets to overseeing the design work for all advertising, the playbills, even contributing occasionally to plans for costumes. We’d already sent out flyers for the upcoming seasons, and cast all the major roles. I loved my job.

  But even more than my work, I loved the moment when the sole of my shoe hit the street outside at the end of a long day, guiding me towards the life I now shared with the man of my dreams.

  Late on Tuesday afternoon, though, it occurred to me that I hadn’t seen Marcus in what felt like weeks. So instead of heading back to Tristan’s place, I popped by my old apartment in hopes that I’d find my housemate there. He was working for Tristan now, but his hours were limited—which was likely a result of the fact that his health had been declining for some time. The last time I’d set eyes on him, he looked like he’d lost about twenty pounds of muscle. His skin had been pallid, his eyes sunken. He and Tristan had each explained to me that it wasn’t an uncommon state for Lessers, those with shifters’ blood who required approval by their leaders before they could find their mate and unleash their inner beasts. But Marcus’ suffering had been drawn out. He’d moved from one leader to another, and only now was he close to receiving Tristan’s trust, which would ultimately lead to his blessing.

  When I got to Marcus’ building I let myself in through the front door and took the elevator upstairs. Even though I still paid him rent I no longer felt comfortable walking in unannounced, so I knocked instead of barging in.

  When Marcus opened it a few seconds later, I gasped.

  He looked like he’d lost about another fifteen pounds in the couple of weeks since I’d seen him. His cheeks were sunken, his skin clammy, like he was riddled with fever. It was awful seeing him like this; he’d always been such a handsome, strong man. I hated the thought that his body was suffering because Tristan hadn’t given his blessing to move on to his next stage.

  “Oh my God, are you okay?” I asked without even thinking what a rude question it was. I reached a hand out and tried to press it to his forehead, but he jerked backwards, almost as though the thought of my touch repulsed him.

  “Fine,” he said, slipping back inside the apartment. I followed him in, shutting the door behind me. “I’m fine, Ari.” His tone and expression were irritable. Not surprising, given that he looked like death.

  “You don’t look fine. Does Tristan know you’re…?”

  “A mess?” he asked, pressing his hand against the island that separated the small kitchen from the living area. He looked like he might topple over if he didn’t hold onto something. “I don’t know,” he said. “I mean, yeah, I guess he does. He told me he has one final assignment for me before he sets me free, which means he knows I’m pretty desperate to move on.”

  I stared at him in spite of myself. I couldn’t begin to imagine how any man in his state could find a mate. He didn’t only look ill; something in his eyes looked a little…off, like a quiet madness was setting in. I was almost frightened to be in the same room as him.

  “One more assignment? That’s ridiculous,” I said. “I’ll talk to him tonight. He needs to set you free now.”

  “Ari,” Marcus said with a vague twitch of a smile, “it’s okay. He’s doing everything the way he’s supposed to. I get it, you’ve never seen a Lesser in this state, and it’s scary. But trust me, I’m stronger than I look. Besides, this last task of Tristan’s is something I actually want to do.”

  I cocked my head skeptically. “What is it?” I asked, hoping Tristan wasn’t putting one of my best friends in danger. If he was, he’d be hearing from me tonight. I might even withhold sex from him.

  As if.

  Marcus turned away and walked towards the couch, where his laptop was sitting open. When I slipped over behind him I saw that he was clicking on a web page whose heading was “Become An Ordained Minister Online In Three Easy Steps!”

  My mouth dropped open. “Is that…what I think it is?” I asked, my heart jumping for joy in my chest.

  Marcus nodded and turned his head to shoot me a happy smile. “I can now legally marry you two.”

  “Really?” I squealed, wrapping my arms around his neck in spite of the fact that I was slightly worried that I’d break him. “Are you serious? This is amazing!”

  “Tristan thought you might like to have me there when you two tie the knot, and I wasn’t about to say no to that offer. Once it’s done, he’s setting me free. That’s our deal.”

  “That’s so great. I wish we could do it today.” I stared at him, sadness infiltrating my chest again. “I know you say this is normal, but you look so…”

  “Weak. I know. Look, it’s complicated,” he said. “He needs to give me his blessing, present me to the pack he’s chosen for me, and they have to accept me. Once that’s done, I’ll start to get stronger right away.”

  “So it’s the pack that makes you strong?” I asked.

  Marcus nodded. “The wolf who’s dormant inside me needs a home. But my human side needs to prove that I’m worthy of it, and since I indirectly worked for Krane…”

  “Right. You have to work harder to prove yourself. I know.” I laid a hand on his shoulder. “But after you’re accepted into a pack, then…”

  Marcus’ lips twisted into a smile and he nodded. “Yeah. Then comes the fun part.”

  “Finding your mate,” I said. “You’ll make some woman so happy. I can’t wait to meet her.”

  “Me neither,” he replied with a chuckle. “In the meantime, I’m really glad you’re getting married. I’ve…I’ve only ever wanted your happiness, Ari. I hope you know that.”

  He shot me a look that confused me, as if he was apol
ogizing for something he’d done.

  “I know,” I said. “Of course I do.”

  Marcus had only ever been a loyal friend to me. He’d protected me when a shifter called Craster had barged into our place. He’d looked after me the night of the Midsummer Ball, consoled me when I was crushed. If there was anyone on earth who had nothing to apologize for, it was him. “I know,” I told him with a squeeze of his shoulder. Pushing any and all negative thoughts out of my mind, I raced around the couch and plopped down next to him. “So what do I call you, now that you’re a man of God? Minister Marcus? Father Mark? Oh Holy One?”

  “Your Awesomeness will do, thanks.”

  I punched his shoulder.

  He didn’t break.

  He was going to be just fine.

  Chapter 10

  Tristan and I flew down to New Orleans the day before our wedding. The trip took no time, yet for some reason it seemed to last forever. Kara was co-piloting the plane from her usual seat, which made me feel like everything was right with the world.

  Before the flight I’d tried a few times to get her to tell me what Tristan was up to—what errand he’d sent her on while we were in Chicago, what his top secret surprise was. But like the infuriatingly loyal Valkyrie that she was, she’d refused to say anything. She’d just smiled and said, “You’ll see.”

  I couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with what I’d be wearing when we actually got married. I hadn’t bought a gown for the occasion; instead, I’d packed a few perfectly decent dress options that seemed more suitable for an outdoor wedding. Getting married at the Magic Lake—which was really just a small pool of fresh water next to a beautiful waterfall—meant wandering through wet grass and standing on muddy ground, and somehow the thought of a priceless wedding dress made my eye twitch. Tristan may have been a billionaire, but I still couldn’t stomach the idea of burning through cash like it grew on trees.

  Despite the fact that Marcus had assured me he was ready to officiate for us, he wasn’t on our flight. He’d headed down a few days in advance after telling Tristan he wanted to get to know New Orleans a little, and I was happy to hear it. He could probably use a change of scenery. Besides which, he was in the throes of mentally preparing for the change that was about to consume his life, which was cause for celebration. A little vacation would do him some good.

  After an hour in the air, I found myself fidgeting with my engagement ring, my eyes possessed by the sparkling gemstones. The rubies reminded me of Tristan—of his love of all things red. He’d always enjoyed seeing me draped in crimson garments; something about the color aroused him in a way that got me going, too.

  But right now, the shade of the ring’s tiny gemstones was reminding me of the woman he’d once been engaged to. In the painted portrait that was tucked away inside the ancient locket, her hair was flaming red. Fiery and beautiful, just like the woman herself. I couldn’t help but wonder if my fiancé’s attachment to the color had something to do with her.

  For some reason, right now I couldn’t get her out of my mind. I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that the last time Tristan had planned on getting married, things had gone so horribly wrong for him—and for her.

  Elodie had been pregnant at the time. Her father had sent her off to Europe, where she’d died in childbirth. Tristan had lost the woman he loved and his child, all at once.

  What if it happened again? What if our wedding somehow got derailed?

  Stop it. History won’t repeat itself, I told myself. Besides, you’re not pregnant. Stop imagining worst case scenarios.

  “You nervous?” Tristan asked, and I realized his eyes were fixed on me, and probably had been for some time. I was chewing my lip, my fingers obsessively pulling the ring up the length of my finger and pushing it back down again.

  “Nervous? No. Yes…No.” I looked over at him, grateful to have my attention drawn away from my inner paranoia. “Yes, I guess I am.”

  He was dressed in low-riding jeans and an old, thinned out gray t-shirt. It was my favorite look on the man who so often wore tailored Italian suits, though I loved those, too. Whatever he put on his body, my fiancé always managed to look sexy. He knew how to dress to bring out the best in his perfect body—his powerful chest, those strong, chiseled arms that made me feel so safe when they were wrapped around me. Staring at him for a second, I nearly forgot what I’d been worried about. “I mean, I’m nervous,” I said, “but not about marrying you.”

  “So what’s bothering you, lover?” he asked, rising from his seat, crouching down in front of me and taking my hands in his.

  “I don’t know,” I told him. “I just have this feeling that something’s going to go wrong. You know what I mean?”

  “You’re a worrier. You can’t help it.” Tristan drew his gaze towards the cockpit. The door was shut, but I sensed that he was thinking about our Valkyrie copilot. “It’s her blood inside you,” he said.

  “Huh? That’s…a weird thing to say, Mr. Wolfe. What are you talking about?”

  “In case you’d forgotten, you got a blood transfusion from our Valkyrie co-pilot,” he told me. “One who’s constantly preoccupied, trying to make sure the world’s as good a place as it can be. You and she always shared that trait, but I think your constant desire to fix everything may come from Kara.”

  “I had noticed that she’s…diligent,” I laughed. “I just figured it’s her personality. She cares about the people around her, especially you. I think she’s so concerned with everyone else’s happiness that she’s never bothered to look after her own.”

  Tristan shook his head. “It’s not just that she cares about others. She does, of course, but she also has a few internal demons that prevent her from finding her own happiness. It’s part of what makes her such a powerful fighter…and what often makes her feel helpless when she can’t help others.” He pulled my right hand to his lips and kissed it. “I don’t want you feeling helpless,” he said. “You have nothing to worry about. You and I will be married tomorrow, Ariana. I’m yours forever. After the wedding, we’ll deal with any obstacle that comes our way together, as husband and wife. You hear me?”

  I nodded and swallowed hard, trying to fight back the tears that wanted to well up in my eyes. “You’re so good at talking me off ledges,” I said. “So much has gone wrong in my life, and I never had someone to lean on—someone to reassure me. I can’t tell you how grateful I am to you for that.”

  “I’m glad,” he said, kissing my other hand. “But I’m not looking for gratitude. All I want is your happiness. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”

  “You’re doing a good job of delivering it on a regular basis,” I told him. “I feel stupid for worrying about things that I can’t control…but that doesn’t stop me from worrying, unfortunately.”

  “Of course it doesn’t. But tell me—did something happen that made you feel uneasy? Did someone say something?” Tristan went silent for a moment, his eyes blazing bright as though his wolf had sprung to attention inside him. “You haven’t…seen my brother, have you?”

  I shook my head. “God no. I hope I never see him again. The truth is, I haven’t seen or heard anything that’s set me off,” I said. “It’s just a gut feeling that I have. Stupid overactive women’s intuition.” I pulled my hands free of his and cupped his jaw in my fingers, delivering a kiss to his perfect lips. “I think it’s just that I’m so damned happy right now, and I’m scared that it will end. I’ve never felt like I deserved happiness. Not like this. Maybe it’s just that I don’t know how to deal with it.”

  “You deserve every good thing in the world. So don’t be scared,” he said with a smile so warm that my body temperature went up by a few degrees. “However the next few days go, I’m yours until the end of time. Remember that, lover.”

  I smiled. I could only wish that we had more time together. There was no such thing as forever, not for me. Only the span of my short, mortal life. I would die long before Tristan
did, and maybe someday after I was gone, he’d meet someone else and fall in love all over again.

  No. I didn’t want to think about that.

  Stupid, cruel brain.

  When Tristan sat down in his seat again, taking my hand in his, I let my mind wander back to the conversation Kara and I had several weeks back at the Midsummer Ball, when she’d told me that Valkyries could easily endure the change inflicted on them by a shifter. A half breed Valkyrie-shifter didn’t suffer the trauma that a human did. I couldn’t help but wonder if the blood that ran through my veins was enough to mean that I could endure it just as well.

  If only I could persuade Tristan to change me—if I could get him to see the light and realize that we really could be together forever, if he would just consider giving me that one gift…

  But as I turned to look at him, his eyes now fixed on the clouds outside the window, I knew perfectly well that he would never do it. He’d already said as much. The thought of causing me even a little bit of pain destroyed him.

  My only choice was to enjoy every day I had on this earth with him.

  I wiped my eyes, leaned my head on his shoulder and forced myself to smile. Tomorrow was my wedding day and damn it, I refused to let a dark cloud gather over what should be the happiest moment of my life.

  Chapter 11

  “Are we staying at the same hotel as last time we were in New Orleans?” I asked Tristan as we made our way towards his cherished Aston Martin Valkyrie, which was already waiting for us on the tarmac.

  He shook his head. “No. This time I thought I’d take you somewhere special,” he told me. “To get ready for our big day tomorrow. I figured it would be nice to spend the night outside the city.”

  I eyed him sideways. “Special, huh? I’m a little apprehensive about your idea of special, Mr. Wolfe.”

  “Don’t be, future Mrs. Wolfe.”

  “Mrs. Wolfe.” I ran my lips over the words like I was tasting the best chocolate in the world.