2. Hettie
Chapter 2
Hettie
“ W hat the hell was that?” I choke out, falling on my ass in the dirt. The door—or portal, as The Guardian called it—felt like riding a roller coaster in pitch darkness. It wasn’t scary as much as it was disorienting and something I would love to never experience again.
Of course, The Guardian looks like he stepped off the fashion runway. He offers me his hand, and I allow him to help me up. Grass barks behind me, letting his displeasure be known.
“Me too, dude,” I mumble, shakily getting to my feet with The Guardian’s help. Soft fur nuzzles against my leg, and Grass licks me with his slobbery tongue.
Once my world stops spinning, I take in my new surroundings.
We stand on a dirt path in the middle of a woodsy area. Trees the size of three-story buildings loom over the town, providing protection from the sun. All around me are beautifully built cabins, varying in size. The air smells of burning logs, reminding me of cozy nights by the fire. I feel like I’ve stepped into a Hallmark holiday movie.
Behind us appears to be a market full of women, men, and children weaving in and out of stores. Large dogs, far larger than any dogs I’ve seen before, walk amongst the crowd. A few people catch my eye but quickly turn away to whisper something into their friend’s ear. I know they are talking about me because they keep looking back.
I fucking hate when people talk about me behind my back. It sets off my rage as if a switch flipped inside me. I must have taken a step toward the gossiping crowd because The Guardian’s hand wraps around my forearm.
“I advise you to keep your anger in check. Need I remind you that you are amongst shifters? Wolves, to be exact. You’re out of your depths here, Ms. Ortega.” He manages to make his firm tone sound gentle.
Wolves? I read and reread the contract at least a million times and could never find out the supernatural entity The Guardian alluded to in the contract. But his alpha comment from earlier now makes sense. And the “dogs” walking around the town…aren’t dogs at all. I wait for fear to set in, but my emotions are all over the place right now.
Feeling like a chastised child, I nod once because The Guardian is right. I’m way out of my league here. I’m no stranger to fights, but that was back in Grym Hollow. This is quite literally a completely different world, and no matter how much these people may look like me, they aren’t human. Not entirely.
“Come. The packhouse is this way.” The Guardian takes off in the direction he points to.
“A packhouse?”
“Yes,” The Guardian says, and I wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t. This man is obscenely obtuse .
“What’s a packhouse?” I try again, keeping my tone light.
“It’s a house for the pack.”
I fucking lose it.
Or I would if this man didn’t scare the living shit out of me. So instead, I silently scream, clutching my bag to my chest and follow after him.
Grass, clearly annoyed with my slow pace, runs up to The Guardian and barks playfully. “Traitor,” I whisper, and I swear The Guardian laughs.
We walk in silence the rest of the way to the packhouse, away from the small market. We pass more paved dirt roads that branch off into what look like small neighborhoods with more cabins. Some have laundry hanging from a wire outside, while others have beautiful gardens or a firepit.
It’s all so strange and yet…comforting in a weird way.
The Guardian stops abruptly, and Grass does the same. I nearly trip over my dog’s tail and curse under my breath.
In front of us stands a large wooden castle. It’s the only way I know how to describe it. The house is at least three times wider than the ones we passed, and two, maybe three stories tall. It reminds me of a cozy hotel, the ones run by an elderly couple who feed you stale cookies and burnt coffee.
“This is the packhouse,” The Guardian says, and this time, he elaborates, “Think of it as what you would call a city hall. It’s also the home of the King Alpha, so it will be your home too.”
My jaw drops. “You’ve got to be joking.” Surely he doesn’t mean this extravagant house will be where I live.
“No. I hardly ever joke.” His serious tone nearly makes me boil over with anxious laughter.
I have only ever lived in one house my entire life. A shitty two-bedroom home that gets too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter. Clarissa and I shared a room, but it’s so small that only one bed fits in there comfortably. My parents’ room is even smaller.
Still, my parents took great pride in that shitty house, doing their best to keep it clean and free of clutter. Even after my father passed, my mother did her best to keep the house running as normal. Because I knew how blessed they felt to even have a home, I never complained about our living conditions. At least not to my family.
But looking at what will be my new house, it now seems…excessive. Does one man really need all this room?
I mutter the question out loud, and The Guardian answers, “He’s not the only one who lives here. He has a room for his second-in-command, one for his family, and the employees have staff quarters they are permitted to live in if they so desire. Plus, it’s open most days for the pack to come and go as they please.”
That makes me feel a little better, but only marginally.
“Lady Blanchette, welcome to Lycan Forest,” a deep voice says, and I immediately snap my attention to the front entryway of the house.
A man stands at the top of the stairs, an inviting smile on his face. He looks no older than me and carries himself with a sense of importance. Certain. Collected. The man has dark short-cropped hair, deep umber skin, and eyes that remind me of storm clouds, a beautiful shade with specks of gold.
The man is shirtless, showing off his well-defined muscles, abs that look chiseled from stone. He’s also tall. Like really tall. His body eclipses the door, and I bet he has to duck his head to get inside.
While I stare at this man like a fucking moron, he descends the steps of the packhouse. Then, because I apparently live in a Jane Austen novel now, the giant man bows. I’m left to look like a damn idiot. Am I supposed to bow back? Curtsy? High-five?
I settle on a tight smile and the slightest nod, which seems to not offend him.
“Ender, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” the man says to my companion.
“Likewise, Thorne,” Ender says, but I’m still stuck on the fact this man—Thorne—called him Ender.
“Your name isn’t The Guardian?” My brow furrows, and both men turn to look at me with varying expressions. Thorne grins, and Ender looks bored.
“No. It’s more of a title,” he gives me a straight answer for once. I take it as a solid win.
Not one to be left out, Grass hurles himself at Thorne’s feet, growling low in the back of his throat. “Grass, stop.” I reach for my dog, but Thorne puts his hand up.
“It’s fine,” he assures and crouches down. Grass barks once, clearly uneasy, but then Thorne reaches out his hand. I’m about to tell him to be careful when he lets out his own low growl.
Grass’s body slowly relaxes. The menacing dog from mere seconds ago is now wagging his tail, licking Thorne’s outstretched hand. “We’re kindred spirits,” he says, as if I should understand.
For whatever reason, Ender seems satisfied by their interaction, and even though I hardly trust Ender, I trust Grass. He’s always looked out for me and is a good judge of character. So, if he likes this man, then so do I.
“So,” I say once Grass stops licking Thorne, “I take it you must be my new husband. ”
It takes me a moment to realize Thorne is laughing. My face gets hot, warmth rushing into my cheeks.
“I’m sorry, my lady, but I’m afraid I’m already happily mated. I’m simply the greeting party because our King Alpha, your soon-to-be mate, had something come up. But he wanted to make sure someone was here upon your arrival.”
“How fucking kind,” I mumble under my breath. Good to know my betrothed is an ass who can’t even be bothered to show up to greet me himself.
Ender places a hand on my back. It almost feels like he’s comforting me until I realize he’s pushing me forward, toward the packhouse. “I’m afraid I can’t leave until I see your King Alpha. It’s part of the contract.”
Ender seems put off that he has to stay longer than necessary, but I’m not sure if that is him being rude or just his natural state.
“Of course. He’s running late, but we will meet him inside. If you’ll follow me.” Thorne doesn’t wait for us to respond. He turns on his heels and heads up the entryway.
“Let’s go meet your mate, shall we?” Ender offers his arm to me, which I take. Right now, he’s the only one keeping me upright.
Silently, we fall in line behind Thorne.