Chapter 4 Alaric
ALARIC
Alaric gave her almost an hour to settle in before he pushed open the door to the Griddle and Grind, letting in a blast of cold air and snow.
Conversations stopped. Heads turned. He was used to that reaction. The town knew what he was, what he did. Enforcer. Council's blade. The wolf who followed all orders without question.
He stamped snow from his boots and crossed to the counter. Twyla was already pouring coffee into a to-go cup, her wheat-colored hair catching the lamplight.
"Alaric." She set the cup down. "Didn't really expect to see you tonight."
"Storm's keeping everyone close." He picked up the coffee. "Figured I'd check in."
Twyla's eyes flicked toward the woman sitting by the window. Back to him. A small smile played at her lips. "Checking in. Right."
He ignored the implication and turned, scanning the café. Diana sat across from the journalist, still talking. Miriam watched from a stool at the counter, her expression sharp behind those half-moon spectacles. A handful of other locals occupied tables near the back, pretending not to stare.
And then there was her.
The journalist. Elara Jameston.
She looked up as he moved deeper into the café, and their eyes met.
The world tilted.
His wolf surged forward with a force that nearly buckled his knees.
Every instinct he'd spent years honing, every shred of control he'd built, shattered in the span of a heartbeat.
The scent hit him next, cutting through coffee and cinnamon and wood smoke.
The smell that had hit him outside. Winter roses.
Something that made his wolf howl one single, undeniable word.
Mine.
Alaric's jaw locked. He forced his expression into the scowl he wore like armor and looked away, but the damage was done. His wolf clawed at his chest, demanding he cross the room, demanding he claim what belonged to him, demanding he mark her right there in front of the entire town.
He crushed the instinct down with brutal efficiency.
Not possible. Not the human journalist sent to expose them.
"Alaric?" Twyla's voice held a note of concern.
He met her eyes. Saw the knowing there. The fae woman saw too much, always had.
"I'm fine." The words came out more gruff than intended.
"Of course you are." Twyla's smile widened. "Why don't you sit down? Have your coffee. Stay a while."
He wanted to leave. Wanted to put distance between himself and the woman who'd just upended everything. But Emmett's orders echoed in his head. Watch her. Learn what she knows. Figure out if she's a threat.
Can't do that from outside.
Alaric chose a table three down from hers. Close enough to hear, far enough to maintain the illusion of distance. He settled into the chair, his back to the wall, and wrapped his hands around the coffee cup to keep them from shaking.
Miriam stood, glancing between him and Elara. "I should get back to the inn. Make sure your room's ready and ket Diana know she’ll have a new guest."
"Thank you." Elara's voice carried clearly across the space. Steady. Curious. Completely unaware of what she'd just done to him.
Miriam passed Alaric's table on her way out. She didn't say anything, but her expression spoke volumes. Sympathy mixed with something close to amusement.
He glared at his coffee.
Elara went back to her notebook, pen moving across the page in quick, confident strokes. She pushed her glasses up with one finger. Bit her lower lip while she thought. Small gestures that shouldn't have meant anything but somehow meant everything.
His wolf wanted closer. Wanted to see what she was writing, hear her voice directed at him, know every thought that passed through her head.
Alaric took a long drink of coffee and burned his tongue.
"You're new."
He looked up. Elara had turned in her chair, facing him directly. Those sharp green eyes studied him with the same intensity she'd probably used on everyone else tonight.
"I live here," he said.
"I figured. But you just came in, which means you haven't been here for the past hour of interrogation I've been subjected to." She tilted her head. "So either you're fashionably late, or you were doing something else and decided to stop by."
Smart. Too smart.
"Storm's bad. Wanted to make sure everyone was accounted for."
"That your job? Making sure everyone's accounted for?"
"Something like that."
She studied him for another moment, then stood and crossed to his table. His wolf surged again, and he had to lock every muscle to keep from reacting.
"Mind if I sit?" She didn't wait for an answer, just pulled out the chair across from him. "I'm Elara. Journalist. Though I'm guessing you already knew that, based on the way everyone's been treating me like I might be contagious."
Alaric said nothing. Silence was safer than speech right now.
"You're not much of a talker, are you?" She set her notebook on the table between them, pen resting on top. "That's fine. I can work with that. What's your name?"
He could refuse. Should refuse. But Twyla was watching and refusing to give his name would only make him look like he had something to hide.
"Alaric."
"Alaric." She repeated it like she was testing how it fit in her mouth. "What do you do here, Alaric? Besides check on people during storms."
"Maintenance. Security. Whatever needs doing."
"Vague. I've gotten a lot of vague answers tonight." She leaned forward slightly. "Is that a Hollow Oak thing, or are you all just naturally suspicious of outsiders?"
"Both."
A smile played at her lips.
"At least you're honest about it," Elara said. "Everyone else has been dancing around the fact that I'm not welcome here."
"You're not."
"Why?"
"Because you ask too many questions."
"That's my job."
"Doesn't mean we have to answer."
She picked up her pen, clicking it absently. A nervous habit, maybe. Or just something to do with her hands. "Fair enough. But you have to admit, a town this isolated, this off the grid, it raises questions all by itself. You can't blame me for being curious."
"I can blame you for whatever I want."
Another smile. Smaller this time, but still there. "You're not very good at the welcoming committee thing, are you?"
"Wasn't trying to be."
"Clearly." She jotted something in her notebook. His wolf wanted to know what, wanted to lean over and read every word. "So if you're not here to welcome me, why are you here? Really."
To watch you. To figure out if you're a threat. To decide whether I need to silence you permanently.
To understand why my wolf is screaming that you're mine when you're supposed to be the enemy.
"Making sure the town's safe," he said instead.
"Safe from what? Me and my notebook?"
"From anything that doesn't belong."
The words came out harder than he intended. Elara's expression shifted, something flickering behind her eyes. Not fear. Determination.
"Good to know where I stand." She closed her notebook and stood. "Thanks for the conversation, Alaric. Even if it was mostly you glaring at me and giving one-word answers."
She walked back to her table, gathered her things, and headed for the door. She paused there, looking back at him.
"I'll be around for a few days. Try not to look so threatening next time."
Then she was gone, disappearing into the snow and darkness.
Alaric sat frozen, his hands still wrapped around the coffee cup. His wolf howled, furious at letting her leave, demanding he follow.
Twyla appeared at his elbow. "Well. That was interesting."
He didn't respond.
"You know what she is, don't you?" Twyla's voice dropped. "You felt it."
"I don't have any idea what you're talking about."
"Liar." She patted his shoulder. "Good luck with that, honey. You're going to need it."
Alaric watched through the window as Elara made her way across the street toward the inn, notebook clutched against her chest. Snow collected in her hair, on her shoulders, and he could still smell winter roses even though she was gone.
His mate.
The woman he'd been ordered to silence.
The universe, he decided, had a terrible sense of humor.