Chapter 35
THIRTY-FIVE
KOR
Something was wrong with Vivienne—I could tell.
She tried to hide it, but I knew her well enough by now to see the signs.
She was quieter than usual when I came downstairs that morning and there were dark circles beneath her eyes as though she hadn't slept well.
The biggest clue, though, was what she was wearing.
The weather had turned warm again and the house was comfortable, but she had wrapped herself in a loose, baggy robe that hid almost every inch of her figure.
Not that I was staring. Well…maybe a little. She was so beautiful it was hard not to stare.
The problem was that I couldn't seem to stop looking at her. Ever since she'd come into my life, my attention followed her the way a sunflower follows the sun. Even when I was trying to give her space and respect the distance she'd asked for, I found myself watching her out of the corner of my eye.
And there was something else—her scent had changed.
I couldn't quite explain it, but the soft feminine fragrance that always seemed to cling to her was stronger than usual—sweeter too. Every time she walked past me, I caught another hint of it and found myself turning instinctively in her direction.
The reaction bothered me—not because there was anything wrong with being attracted to Vivienne. Goddess knew I'd given up pretending I wasn't. The problem was that she had made it very clear she wanted distance between us after what happened at the Council meeting.
The last thing I wanted was to make her uncomfortable, so I kept my distance and tried to ignore the strange pull I felt whenever she was nearby.
At breakfast she barely touched her food. She pushed a piece of toast around her plate and stared out the window while I drank coffee and tried to figure out what was going on inside her head.
Finally I couldn't take it anymore.
"Are you all right?" I asked, bluntly.
She blinked as though I'd startled her.
"What?"
"You're quiet—too quiet."
A faint smile touched her lips.
"You haven’t exactly been Mr. Talkative yourself this morning, you know."
"I'm serious, Vivienne,” I told her. “I’m worried about you.”
The smile faded immediately and for a moment I thought she wasn't going to answer.
Then she sighed.
"I'm fine."
I raised an eyebrow at her.
"You don't look fine. You look worried."
She looked down at her coffee cup, swirling the brown liquid as though she might find the answers to my questions in there.
"I'm just tired,” she said at last. “I had a hard time sleeping last night.
I didn't believe that for a second—tired wasn't what I was seeing. She looked worried…sad…scared. And that was just off the top of my head. Was she still fearing that Harris Murdoch would beat me at the Alpha Challenges?
I wondered if I ought to tell her about my secret weapon—about my Beast. There was no way a regular Were could best me. But no, I didn’t want to scare her. I just wanted to know what was wrong and how I could help her feel better.
Still, I wasn't about to push her if she wasn't ready to talk.
"Is there anything I can do?" I asked gently. “Anything at all?”
She hesitated.
"Actually…" She bit her lower lip. "I…I have to go back into town today."
The words seemed hard to say—she was obviously reluctant to go back to Blackridge. Not that I blamed her.
"To pick up the packages you were waiting for?" I asked.
She nodded.
"Some of them should be there by now. I hope," she added, looking worried again. She crossed her arms over her chest protectively and then winced, as though the gesture had hurt her.
An idea occurred to me—maybe she needed some time alone. And maybe she would feel better if she didn’t have to face those two women at the post office again—they really seemed to have it in for her for some reason.
"Why don't I go get them for you?" I said.
Her head came up immediately.
"You’d do that?"
The relief in her voice was impossible to miss.
I sat back in my chair and studied her.
"Of course I would, baby," I said quietly.
"Are you sure you don't mind?" she pressed.
I shrugged.
"Vivienne, it's a twenty-minute drive. You're acting like I'm volunteering to cross the Arctic."
A reluctant laugh escaped her, and the sound made me feel absurdly pleased with myself.
My ex, Jennie, used to say one of my love languages was Acts of Service.
I never minded picking things up from the store or working around the house.
I think it came from being raised by my dad for so long after my mom died.
After she was gone, if I didn’t do things, they didn’t get done.
So it wasn’t a big deal for me to do things like errands or chores now.
"I suppose you're right,” Vivienne said, smiling at me.
I winked at her.
"I usually am."
That earned me an eye roll, but she was smiling—just a little.
There she is, I thought. There's my girl.
The realization slipped into my head before I could stop it.
My girl. That’s how I was thinking of her. Even though I knew I could never have her—even though she’d asked for distance. I just couldn’t seem to help myself—she belonged with me. I knew it in my bones, even if the world said it could never be so.
I took a long sip of coffee and tried very hard not to examine that particular thought too closely.
“I’ll go right after breakfast,” I said.
"Thank you," she said softly. She reached across the table and put her hand on mine, very briefly.
That simple touch sent a shiver of pure desire down my spine, but I tried to keep my voice calm.
"You're welcome,” I said and for a moment our eyes met across the table.
Whatever was troubling her, hadn't gone away. I could still see it there—the worry and uncertainty. But at least she looked a little less overwhelmed than she had a few minutes earlier and for now, that was enough.
A short while later I was heading down the mountain road toward Blackridge with the top down on the Mustang and a list of package tracking numbers in my pocket. I told myself I was only running an errand and giving Vivienne a chance to rest. I planned to be back before lunch.
What I didn't know was that before the day was over, I was going to learn exactly what she'd been trying so hard to hide.
And once I found out, nothing between us was ever going to be the same again.