Page 16 of Alpha’s Wife

“It’s not that simple,” he says, mortally serious.

“Of course it’s that simple. You walk up, you say an entire sentence, you survive it.” I’m enjoying myself far more than I should because he looks so horrified. “Do you want me to write this down?”

He laughs, and almost an entire hour disappears as we trade ideas for the perfect sentence that will win this poor unsuspecting girl over before one of the other boys snaps her up. I find myself laughing more than I thought I would, but underneath, part of me is still watching, still waiting.

“You’re easy to talk to,” he says when the laughter dies down. “My mom told me all witches are scary, but you’re not.”

“Give it time,” I tell him, and he laughs again, like it’s the funniest thing he’s heard all week. But the truth is, I may well end up being scary, whether I mean to or not.

When he finally realizes the time and stands to leave, he suddenly seems flustered, muttering that he shouldn’t be staying so late. He quickly gathers the laden tray, which still has far too much on it, and I help him by adding the leftover cups from earlier in the day. He waves with one hand as he struggles to pull the door, too.

I wait a second, then another, and the lock doesn’t click into place; the wards don’t flare. For a moment, I think I’ve imagined it, but as I cross to the window and watch him walk back down the hill, I rest my hand on the window, and for the first time, I don’t feel the hum of the ward magic.

This is it. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for. All because a kind boy was probably thinking about the girl he’s going to ask out and his guard was down, so he didn’t remember to lock the door.

I hesitate, and I hate myself for it.

I wonder how much trouble Bram will be in when I escape. I think about Katie and her potato-wolf drawings, the plans Emma has for this week at the clinic, and I glance at the chessboard where an unfinished game with Ronan sits, waiting to be played.

But I also think about the island, the people who will pay the price if Ronan gets his revenge. I think about my home, my coven, and all my plans for the future that didn’t involve being used by an alpha to start a war. I wipe my face, annoyed to find it wet with tears of frustration. Pulling on my boots and a warm coat, I open the door quietly and slip out into the night.

The cold almost takes me by surprise; the seasons are changing faster than I realize, being inside every night. The dark feels all-encompassing as I stay away from the main paths, slipping between the cabins that reach out toward the main gate. I won’t be able to walk straight through, but I’ve seen gaps in the tree line, enough for a small body to slip through. I just need to make it that far first. I keep expecting a hand on my shoulder, a shout, something.

I reach the tree line but realize I’ve seriously misjudged the situation.

It isn’t just a case of slipping through the trees; there are sensors that I didn’t see from a distance, set high into the trees, and others sweeping through the undergrowth. There are paths cut through the tree line and a watchtower that can see everything. I flatten myself against one of the trees by the path and think through my options. Ronan hasn’t just built a settlement; it’s a fortress, and even if I get through the defenses, I don’t even know where I am or what’s waiting for me out there.

No wonder he never seemed bothered by my attempts to break the wards; he knew it wasn’t just the magic keeping me here, it was all of this. I try not to panic. This is my one chance, and I still have to take it. I think about the magic that doesn’t require a set of wards, herbs, or preparation. Simple cloaking spells that don’t last, but might just last long enough. Glamor work, a disguise. I can slip through the trees, and if the sensors only oversee the line, then I might make it. A simple glamor doesn’t usually pass during the day, but at night, they’re more effective.

I run through the spell, my hands shaking, but suddenly the world goes very silent around me, the way a forest does when something dangerous moves.

Something that feels very close.

I lift my head, knowing it’s now or never. I see a shape move in the darkness and begin to quickly recite the spell, feeling the cloaking begin to take hold. I keep going, knowing I’m running out of time and with a sinking certainty that I know exactly who is coming for me.

Chapter 8 - Ronan

I see her on my way to my office in the pack hall, sitting in the bakery window, laughing with Emma and Cara over coffee. I nearly do a double-take, only settling when I spot Tom sitting nearby—though if she were going to escape, I doubt she would stop for coffee.

She’s laughing, and it’s one of those real laughs that takes over her whole face, with her head tipped back and nothing held back. The ones she gives to other people here, but never me. It feels deliberate, and I guess I can’t blame her. The smile still stops me dead, though, and my wolf zeroes in on it, refusing to back away. He’s furious. At first, he was frustrated by having his mate so close with my refusal to claim her, and now he’s furious at my increased distance. He doesn’t understand that I need to be able to bond with her for the magic, but keep my head clear.

I can’t allow myself to be weakened by the full mate bond.

I force myself to keep moving, but the sight of her stays with me all day. By evening, I’ve made my decision. My wolf is on the edge, winter is coming, and the window I’ve spent years prying open will close when the weather shifts. My ships will be exposed, and the patrols will tighten. I’m done waiting for her to soften toward me. I don’t have time.

So I decide to step things up and head up to see her. I know there’s a half-finished chess game ready and waiting, and I tell myself the tension I feel is mainly the thrill of the chase, the anticipation of seeing my plans come to fruition, and the knowledge she only needs to be slightly willing for this to work—that I can work with. She seems naïve despite her sharp tongue, and I can use that.

Halfway up the hill, I see Bram coming down, later than usual. He’s a great kid, but right now he’s got a faraway look I recognize when men are too busy thinking about girls. He snaps out of it when I approach and tells me that Selene has eaten and that he’s only running late because the cook made too much and she made him have some. He’s rambling like someone who has been caught doing something he shouldn’t, so I let him talk and linger longer than I should, asking him about the boat he’s building with his friends. Bram is a great kid and will make a fine beta one day, once he learns not to get so flustered.

Lingering was a mistake; I just didn’t realize it at the time.

The second I reach the cabin door, I know the wards are down. The low hum that should be there isn’t, and although the door initially looks closed, it swings open when I touch the handle. I step inside and immediately sense the cabin is empty.

Of course it is. She’s been waiting for her moment, and clearly, she either found it or Bram handed it to her. My wolf surges, coming up so fast I have to lock my jaw to force the shift back down. I stand in the doorway for a moment, taking a deep breath, and let myself settle into feeling nothing. Nothing at all. Because feeling angry will only slow me down. Then I go after her.

I let my wolf surface just enough to catch her scent—even without it, I’d know she was heading for the tree line, though if she thinks that’s a weak spot in our defenses, she’s going to be disappointed. I break into a jog, her scent wrapping around me like a floral embrace, and for once, I let my wolf indulge in his mate’s presence because it makes it easier to track her down. I could do it blindfolded at this point.

I don’t pause to raise the alarm, because the idea of the border guards catching her, putting their hands on her, is more than I can handle at the moment, so I run her down in the dark.