I start driving, so distracted I’m not even sure where I’m going. I pass through a crowded village with families out for a stroll, couples headed to dinner, a group of teens tossing a football on the beach, and huff out a ragged breath. Everyone is with someone else, so I drive on, seeking a quieter spot for reflection.
Eventually I find a widening of the road on the Lake Michigan side of the peninsula that forms Door County; here the surf is rougher, the water chillier, and the towns less congested. I pull off, parking at an overlook with a twisty path down to the beach. I take my time climbing down; after falling once already today, I don’t want to stumble on the tree roots and loose rocks. I finally reach a quiet stretch of shoreline and wander over to a boulder; perching on top of it, I stare out at the curling waves, too deep in thought to really see them.
When Sophie was cleaning and bandaging my cuts in the kitchen, something happened that made her feel really uncomfortable; she was so unsettled she continued scrubbing that pot until I shut off the water. I think Sophie must have sensed my inner wolf, yearning for my fated mate; it took all my self-control not to reach out, cup her face in my hands, and claim her full, pillowy lips.
Of course she’d probably evict me if I even tried, and I wouldn’t blame her. A werewolf needs to restrain his impulses at all times, even more so around his mate.
Growling, I drop my head in my hands. What am I going to do?
The last thing I want is for Sophie to tense up around me, but I can’t possibly avoid her either. Other than when we’re sleeping in our separate bedrooms, we’re going to be together nearly non-stop, agonizingly close and yet so far apart.
Maybe it’s just as well she’s taking tomorrow off; it’ll give us both some time to cool off. But Sophie is going on a date with her prospective boyfriend… even worse, she’ll be wearing a bathing suit.
Aargh! I’ll be worrying about her the entire time we’re apart. I growl aloud again.
I need some counseling from a werewolf with more experience, ideally an alpha. But I’m not in a pack, and the last person I should discuss this with is Jake Spellman.
On the other hand, if Jake’s as smart as I think he is… I’m not going to be able to hide my feelings for his tantalizing faerie cousin.
Not for the first time I find myself asking:Miss Dragonfly, what were you thinking?
Eventually my stomach tells me I need to eat, and I head south toward Sturgeon Bay, the largest town in the county and the only place to find fast food restaurants.
It’s almost eight p.m.; I have just enough time to grab some to-go burgers and then watch the sunset over the bay. I’m in the drive-through line, waiting to place my order, when I see a bulked-up, dark-haired werewolf stride past, hop on his motorcycle, and zoom out of the lot.
Despite the warmth of the summer evening, an icy chill courses through me; that wolf looks vaguely familiar, but it can’t behim. Last I saw of him, he was loping away from the fight that claimed Jarrod’s life and nearly took mine. I never did learn his name; he appeared in the woods that day and disappeared just as quickly.
Shrugging, I head over to the harbor; I doubt it’s the same guy, and I have more pressing concerns than reliving painful history. Munching on a cheeseburger, I watch as the sun dips down below the horizon, the sky darkening from golds and peaches to reds and violets.
By the time the sky is a deep indigo, my mind’s made up.
I need to find the man I hope will be my next alpha: Jake Spellman.
I takemy time driving back to Riddle Hill; I’m not readyto return to the cottage I share with Sophie, not until I can get some advice.
As I plunk down on the only available barstool inside Howling Shores Pub, Wes quirks his dark eyebrows at me. “What can I get you?”
I glance around the nautical-themed werewolf hangout. “I need to find Jake Spellman.”
The black-bearded pub owner grunts, “You sure about that?”
“Positive.”
“He’s in a mood; don’t say I didn’t warn you. But if you’re sure…” Wes nods at a booth in the corner, where Jake Spellman is sipping a beer with another fellow, a werewolf with dark blond hair and beard.
I order a root beer from Wes and carry my mug over to the corner. Jake Spellman glances up and gives me a hard nod. Not unfriendly, but not welcoming either, exactly as an alpha should respond to an outsider intruding on his privacy.
The other werewolf looks over and cocks his head. “Let me guess. Are you Leslie ‘T is for Teddy’ Barker?”
“That’s right.”
The man introduces himself. “I’m Rob Wolferman, Jake’s beta. I thought you were stopping by our pack meettomorrownight. You’re early.”
“I need to speak with Jake tonight,” I reply stiffly.
“What gives you the right?—”
“It’s alright, Rob,” Jake interrupts. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
