Page 20 of Alpha’s Wife

“I don’t care about easy. I gave up on that long ago,” he says, something moving behind his eyes, there and then gone just as quickly.

“That woman trusts you,” I say. “They all do, everyone I’ve met here. People don’t think you’re a monster, and they don’t seem like rogues, either.” I don’t know why I’m pushing it; with every word, I feel like I just tip my own hand, and I think any desire to understand him better is actually just part of the trap.

“People here would follow whoever fed them and kept them warm,” he shrugs. “That’s not the same as trust; that’s acceptable terms. Don’t go thinking I’m all virtuous, Selene.”

“I think you talk a good game,” I reply. “The cold version of yourself you want me to see, a man that only cares about one thing…revenge. But you care about these people, you’ve hung pictures on the walls, you’ve made a real home here.”

My words seem to land, and he goes still for a moment, but then smiles, slow and a little dangerous. As though I’ve done something far more interesting than just dig a little too deep.

“Careful,” he says softly. “You sound like you want to get to know me.”

He walks back toward the kitchen with his empty cup, and for a moment, we’re close. Too close. His chest brushes my shoulder, and his height and heat feel all too apparent. Everything in me goes incredibly still.

I’ve never even been kissed, and yet I suddenly feel a certainty overtake me, and I want him to touch me again more than anything. The intensity of it almost knocks me over, because I’ve spent twenty-two years keeping men, and everyone else, at a polite distance, raised by my coven to be wary of everyone. And I’m pretty sure they meant to be wary of men like Ronan most of all.

Neither of us says anything, and I’m too embarrassed to even look in his direction. I feel all the humor and conversation die, as though all the air has just been sucked out of the room. I wonder if, for all his talk, he’s not unaffected by all this, either. That whatever strange pull I feel, he feels it, too. Or is this just more manipulation? I’m not so sure.

When I finally look up at him, I can see that he’s noticed my reaction. Of course he notices. His gaze drops to my mouth and comes back up to my eyes, unhurried, unashamed. He doesn’t step back, and neither do I. I remember what he said about being able to hear how my breathing changed when I woke up, and I wonder what my breathing is telling him now. My cheeks burn at the thought.

“You should go and get dressed,” he says, low, and there’s a depth to it that wasn’t there a minute ago. “While I’m still being patient.”

The word patient is what breaks the spell. The word, tossed down so lightly, reminds me exactly what this is. It’s a plan, a strategy, and I’m in his crosshairs. None of this is real.

I step back so fast, I stumble. He doesn’t reach for me, but I see his fists ball, like he’s holding himself back.

“I’m not one of your strategies,” I tell him, proud that my voice comes out steady despite my turbulent feelings.

“No,” he says, watching me retreat. “But you want to be. And that’s the part you’re going to have to make your peace with before I get my hands on you.”

The thought of his hands on me makes me head spin, but I refuse to let him see it. “You’re the one who needs to make peace with not getting what you want. Consider it character building.”

It’s a good line to exit on, and I almost believe it myself.

I take my coffee and what’s left of my pride back down the hall to my room and shut the door. I lean against it, my heart racing, and hating that he’ll be able to hear it.

Chapter 10 - Ronan

Ten days. That’s how long she’s been under my roof, and it’s about nine too long for my sanity.

The plan sounded simple enough. I couldn’t risk her trying to escape again, so I brought her closer to let proximity finish what I’d already started. My wolf could already feel her body softening to me, however much she wanted to deny it. Witches may not feel the bond the way shifters do, but they’re not immune to the pull entirely, and as the only warm thing in this cold world on offer, I knew it wouldn’t take much, and she’d give in to my advances. It was just a matter of time.

Then I could get back to the only thing that’s ever mattered.

And it’s working. The problem is, it’s working on both of us.

I told myself that I’d enjoy feeling her start to give, watching the bond magic begin to do its work, and I’d stay clear-headed through all of it because I’m so focused on my own mission. I’m the one running this. Selene is my plan.

I was wrong.

Every morning, she walks out of her room, her hair a cascade of curls, her cheeks flushed, wearing a simple T-shirt, and my wolf nearly takes my legs from under me. It’s like she’s trying to draw me in, though I’m not sure she even realizes what she’s doing. Our games of chess have reached a whole new level of competitiveness, and I find myself enjoying them more and more. The fire in her eyes when she realized I was actually a worthy opponent makes me want even more from her.

And that’s just the beginning. I’ve started leaving the good coffee out for her. I bought Maeve’s honey from the bakery, even though I never usually bother keeping much in the kitchen. I find myself watching her when I should be working. I find myself talking to her when I should be taking her. None of this was in the plan. The plan was to make her spread her legs, not for me to actually like her.

This is exactly what I should have known would happen; everything my wolf was pulling for, and I thought I could control. The full bond is a weakness I can’t afford and don’t even want. And yet, she’s drawing it out of me one simple evening at a time, each coffee shared, and every time I find myself thinking about her when I should be doing something else. But I won’t give in to it.

Winter is coming; I can feel it in the wind that comes off the water. The island is being swallowed by the fog more with each passing night. I need her willing, and I need it soon, and the fastest way to get her is to keep doing what I’m doing—but the knowledge that I’m losing myself bit by bit has me holding back right when I should be closing in.

Ryder came by this morning with the shipping manifests and a smug look on his face that I’ve been pretending not to see all week, because if I acknowledge it, I’ll have to wipe it off his face. He stood in the kitchen as Tom arrived to collect Selene for her regular trip to the clinic and waved her off. We watched as she disappeared down the street with Tom, laughing at something he said like they were old friends, and my wolf hated every single moment. If I didn’t like Tom so much and knew he was still solely committed to his late mate, I’d probably have to tear him apart.