Chapter 5
Chapter five
Don’t make me regret it.
The words had been playing on a constant loop in Sammy’s head for the past hour.
He’d thought about them on the way to his cabin. They had distracted him while he packed his bag. So much so that he had been forced to dump the duffel and start over.
Twice.
Even when he had called Braeden to let him know he would be out of town for a few days, Dominic’s voice had been whispering in the back of his mind.
Given the circumstances, the wolf had no reason to trust him. For all Dominic knew, he had concocted the entire story to lure him into a trap. Just because Sammy had ended up being his mate didn’t negate that possibility.
Mate.
When his friends talked about meeting their mates, it had always sounded magical, like something out of a fairy tale. Even the humans he knew had felt the pull, the instinctual need to be close.
Sammy had felt the zing up his arm. The warmth that bloomed inside his chest. The immediate recognition of something achingly familiar.
Beyond that, though, it had been pretty anticlimactic.
While he’d felt a physical attraction to the male from the moment he’d appeared in the bakery, he hadn’t suddenly and inexplicably fallen in love.
Nothing inside him yearned for the alpha.
Discovering the connection between them didn’t make him care for Dominic any more or any less than he had before.
With that realization, he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe this time fate had made a mistake. Or worse, maybe something was wrong with him.
Had that part of him been destroyed, burned away by the magic that bound him? Was this one more way for his mother to control him? Another piece of himself stripped away by her greed?
The possibility worried him far more than he wanted to admit.
“Are we still in Louisiana?” he asked, his voice thick like syrup as he struggled to keep down the coffee sloshing in his stomach.
He knew teleportation to be exceedingly rare magic. In fact, he had only met one other person with the capability. Erus happened to be a god, though, so he wasn’t sure if that counted.
Having just hitched a ride and experienced it firsthand, he could say with confidence that he hated it.
If forced to describe it, he would liken the sensation to being turned inside out and sucked through a garden hose.
His temples ached, his skin crawled, and his muscles coiled themselves into violent knots.
Dominic glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “A little outside of Shreveport. And this—” He swept his hand out in front of him. “—is La Madriguera.”
The Burrow.
Cute name. Wildly inaccurate description.
Bordered on three sides by acres of dense forest, the Greek Revival mansion reminded him of a less audacious version of Blackhaven Bayou—big, white, and unapologetically dramatic.
The stone steps gleamed in the landscape lighting, wide at the base but narrowing as they climbed toward the beveled portico.
The entrance bowed outward in a smooth curve, the ceiling doubling as an upstairs balcony supported by a row of etched columns. Above, an arched window drew his attention to the center of the gabled roof. Probably an attic, but with a light burning through the frosted panes, he couldn’t be sure.
But then there were the little things, the details that made the house feel lived in and welcoming rather than lavish for the sake of grandeur.
The row of muddy boots in various sizes lined up beside the front door. Furniture cushions that appeared thin and sun-washed. A butterfly wind chime hanging from the eaves. A plush pet bed tucked under a round table, the size indicating it was meant for a cat or maybe a small dog.
“How many people live here?”
“Six of us live here full-time, but there are always people coming and going.” As he spoke, Dominic toed his boots off and kicked them toward the wall. Then he motioned for Sammy to do the same with his sneakers.
“Thierry has a thing about shoes in the house.”
Sammy shrugged and added his shoes to the pile. It made sense to him, but he did find it interesting that Dominic followed the rule like everyone else. The alpha didn’t strike him as particularly accommodating.
Warm air scented with lemon and vanilla rushed out to greet him when Dominic pushed open the front door. The combination shouldn’t have worked together, yet it did, a perfect balance of sharp and sweet.
He detected a chemical quality to it, though, an abrasiveness that stung his nostrils. A cleaner of some sort, if he had to guess. A wood polish, or maybe even a disinfectant.
“You’ll get used to it.”
Again, Sammy shrugged. He could think of worse things than a clean house.
“Thierry?”
“Thierry.”
Seeing that Dominic didn’t question it or show any resentment toward the wolf told him a lot more about his new mate than rumors and hearsay ever could. Like the fact that, despite his reputation for ruthlessness, he was kind of a softie when it came to the people he cared about.
Following him inside, Sammy stepped into a long, narrow entrance hall with high ceilings and an honest-to-the-gods chandelier. Wide staircases bracketed the door, each curving upward to meet at the second-floor landing that overlooked the foyer.
An accent wall of smoky teal displayed a collection of artwork and a huge ornate mirror framed in brass. The leather chairs placed beneath the mirror didn’t look all that comfortable, but they definitely added to the aesthetic.
Every surface, from the furniture to the hardwood floors, had been polished to within an inch of its life until it gleamed in the warm amber light.
He didn’t see any signs of life here like he had outside. No mail on the tabletop. No keys or wallets. Not even a random penny or other pocket litter people accumulated throughout the day.
Rather, the space had one job—to make a statement. He just didn’t know what it was trying to say.
Dominic stripped off his leather jacket and hung it on the rack next to the left staircase, revealing a fitted black tee that stretched taut across his broad chest. It was a practiced move, born of habit, obvious by the way he performed the act perfectly without looking away from his phone.
“You can leave your stuff here.” Without waiting for a response, he took Sammy’s duffel by the strap and dropped it into one of the chairs. “Are you hungry?”
Dragging his gaze away from the sleeve of black and gray tattoos that adorned the male’s left arm, he forced himself to meet his eyes instead. He still felt queasy, both from nerves and his first time teleporting. It hadn’t exactly sounded like a question, though.
“I could eat."
“You like pizza?”
“I do.”
Dominic smiled, quick and fleeting, and jerked his head for Sammy to follow. “This way.”
From the foyer, they passed through a sitting room decorated in shades of teal and cream. The furniture there looked more comfortable, but not as if it saw much use either.
Then Dominic led him down a long corridor lined with brass wall sconces and several closed doors on one side. The other side of the hallway appeared dedicated entirely to a formal dining room with a long table that seated twelve.
Laden with gold-rimmed plates, gleaming cutlery, and bouquets of fresh flowers, it looked stunning, but not very practical. Perhaps he didn’t understand wealth. Did rich people have whole rooms set aside purely for display?
Nearing the end of the corridor, Sammy heard movement ahead—the shuffle of footsteps, soft rustling, and the low hum of conversation. He slowed, his courage faltering.
His reluctance didn’t go unnoticed.
“It’s just some of the pack,” Dominic told him. “They already know you’re here.”
Sammy didn’t move. “Do they know why?”
“They do. I’ll need their help tracking down your mom, and besides, we don’t have secrets here.”
He had expected as much, but Dominic misunderstood. He wasn’t concerned about what the pack thought of his situation.
“Do they know what I am?”
Dominic hesitated briefly before nodding.
“And they’re okay with it?”
“Yes.” Then he turned to continue toward the kitchen.
Sammy wasn’t convinced. Without thinking, he reached out, grabbing Dominic’s wrist to stop him.
“One more question.”
“You know they can hear us, right?” Dominic glanced down at the hand on his arm, but he didn’t pull away. “Go ahead.”
Leaning in, he lowered his voice and asked in a soft whisper, “Do they know about us?”
In answer, Dominic grunted, reversed their positions so he now held Sammy’s wrist, and dragged him down the remainder of the corridor and through an arched doorway.
Brightly lit by three rustic chandeliers, the kitchen boasted polished white oak floors and sparkling stainless-steel appliances that all seemed to be supersized. The vaulted ceiling showcased exposed rafters, and the curving wall of windows made the space feel even more vast.
Well, it would have, if not for the six hulking werewolves currently gathered around a mountain of pizza boxes at the kitchen island. Even the females dwarfed him, with thick, powerful thighs and hard, defined shoulders.
And one of the wolves, he recognized.
“You were at the bakery earlier.”
Dressed in the same baggy sweatshirt and loose-fit jeans, the male slid off his barstool and strode over to him with a winsome smile.
“Santiago Rivas,” he said, offering his hand. “You can call me Saint.”
“Rivas?” he repeated, taking Saint’s hand but looking to Dominic.
“My brother,” his mate grumbled. “I wanted a puppy.”
A bark of surprised laughter burst from his lips before he could stop it, but thankfully, neither of the brothers looked offended. Saint actually winked at him.
The rest of the pack had gone silent at their entrance, and they had turned their complete focus to him. None of them approached.
Sammy fidgeted under the weight of their stares and inched closer to Dominic’s side. He wouldn’t consider their attention hostile, just intense, but it made his stomach flutter and his pulse jump.