Chapter 16 Alaric
ALARIC
Alaric stood in the shadow of the apothecary, watching the light in Elara's window. Still burning at eleven at night. She was awake. Writing, probably. Documenting everything she'd seen today, filing away every detail for the article that could destroy them all.
He should go home. Should patrol the perimeter one more time before calling it a night. Should do anything except stand here staring at her window like some lovesick fool.
His wolf had other ideas. Wanted him to climb those stairs and knock down her door, but he pushed that feeling down.
Alaric forced himself to turn away. The Silver Fang Tavern was still open, warm light spilling from its windows. He needed a drink. Needed something to quiet his wolf's demands.
Inside, the usual crowd occupied the tables. A few shifters. A witch or two. Tom Brewster sat at the bar nursing a beer. The photographer nodded as Alaric entered.
Maeve was behind the counter, pouring drinks with efficient precision. Her short black hair was pulled back, and her sharp eyes tracked Alaric's path to the bar.
"Wasn’t planning on seeing you tonight," she said.
"Couldn't sleep."
"That's new. You sleep like the dead usually." She set a glass in front of him and poured whiskey without asking. "What's keeping you up?"
"Nothing."
"Right. Nothing." Maeve leaned against the bar. "Saw you watching the inn from across the street. How long were you standing there?"
"Just checking the perimeter."
"Sure you were." She refilled Tom's beer without breaking eye contact with Alaric. "This about the journalist?"
He took a drink instead of answering.
"It is." Maeve's expression sharpened. "You're getting attached."
"I'm doing my job."
"Your job is to watch her. Not moon over her like a pup with his first crush."
Alaric's wolf snarled. "I'm not mooning."
"You were standing in the shadows staring at her window for twenty minutes. That's mooning." Maeve poured herself a small glass of whiskey. "What happened to the enforcer who followed orders without question? The one who never let personal feelings interfere with duty?"
"He's still here."
"Ha! You look like a wolf who's found his mate and doesn't know what to do about it."
Alaric's hands tightened on his glass.
"Thought so." Maeve took a sip. "Does she know?"
"She doesn't know anything."
"About the mate bond or about what we are?"
"Either."
"And you plan to keep it that way?"
"Yes."
Maeve was quiet. "You know that's not sustainable."
"It has to be."
"Why? Because the Council ordered you to contain her?" Maeve's voice dropped. "I've known you seven years, Alaric. Never seen you hesitate on a single order. Never seen you question your duty. But you're questioning it now."
He wasn't questioning. He was drowning. Caught between what he'd been ordered to do and what his wolf demanded. Between protecting Hollow Oak and protecting her.
"She's a threat," he said.
"Maybe. Or maybe she's exactly what you need to stop being a weapon and start being a person again."
"I don't need anything."
"Everyone needs something. You've just convinced yourself that wanting makes you weak." Maeve set down her glass. "I remember when you first came here. You were half-dead. Grief-broken. Angry at the world and yourself. Varric took you in anyway. Gave you a purpose. A place to belong."
"I'm grateful for that."
"I know you are. But gratitude isn't the same as living. You exist here, Alaric. You function. But you don't live. Not really."
His wolf pushed against his control. She was right and he hated it.
"Getting attached to her won't change that," he said. "It'll just make things worse when she has to leave."
"Who says she has to leave?"
"The Council. My orders. The fact that she's human and doesn't belong here."
"Diana was human. Didn't belong here either. Now she runs the inn and half the town loves her." Maeve refilled his glass. "Sometimes people surprise you. Sometimes they choose to stay."
"She won't choose to stay. She's here for a story. Once she gets it, she'll leave."
"Then don't let her get the story. Give her a reason to stay instead."
Alaric looked at her. "Are you seriously suggesting I seduce a human journalist to keep her quiet?"
"I'm suggesting you stop treating her like an assignment.
" Maeve's expression turned serious. "But I'm also warning you.
If you do this, if you let yourself get attached, it's going to complicate everything.
The Council won't like it. Bram especially.
And if she does leave, if she chooses her career over this town, it'll break you worse than losing your pack did. "
The words struck deep. His wolf howled in protest, refusing to believe their mate would leave. But Alaric knew better. He'd lost everyone he cared about. Why would she be different?
"I'm not getting attached," he said.
"Keep telling yourself that." Maeve picked up a cloth and started wiping down the bar.
"Just remember, there's a difference between being loyal and being a martyr.
You've spent years proving you won't fail this town.
Maybe it's time to prove you won't fail yourself either.
Go home," she said. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow you can go back to pretending you're not halfway in love with her. "
"I'm not in love with her."
"Fine. You're not in love with her. You're just mate-bonded, protective as hell, and watching her window like she's going to disappear if you look away." Maeve shook her head. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."
Alaric finished his drink and stood. "Thanks for the whiskey."
"Thanks for the entertainment. Haven't seen you this twisted up since, well, ever." She smiled, sharp and knowing. "Just don't do anything stupid."
"Like what?"
"Like letting duty kill the first good thing that's happened to you."
He left without responding. Outside, the cold hit immediately. He looked up at the inn. Her light was still on.
His wolf wanted to go to her. Wanted to stop fighting what they both knew was inevitable.
But Alaric had spent years following orders. Proving he wouldn't fail again. He couldn't throw that away for a human who didn't even know what he was.
Even if every instinct screamed that she was worth more than all of it combined.
He turned toward home, leaving her light burning in the window behind him.
But he knew he'd be back tomorrow. And the day after. And every day until this ended.
However it ended.
Because Maeve was right about one thing: he was already attached. The question was whether that would save them both or destroy everything he'd built.
His wolf had no doubts. Mine, it insisted. Ours. Always.
Alaric just wished he could believe it would be that simple.