The Winter Wolf's Secret Heir

Chapter 6: The Hunger in the Dark

Kane’s POV

The library smelled like old paper and Elara’s perfume. It was a thick, floral scent that clogged my nose. It wasn't a bad smell—it was expensive, refined—but it wasn't the scent I was craving.

"The linens for the head table must be silver," Elara said. She was tapping a pen against her clipboard. "Gold is too gaudy for a Winter Solstice. Don't you agree, Kane?"

I looked up from the map of the territory I was studying. The avalanche had cut off the North Pass completely. My patrols were stuck on the ridge. I had three families in the valley who might be without power.

And Elara was talking about tablecloths.

"I don't care about the linens, Elara," I said. My voice was rough. I hadn't slept in twenty hours. "Use paper plates for all I care. We have a crisis."

She sighed, a dramatic, suffering sound. She walked around the desk and put a hand on my shoulder. Her fingers were manicured, perfect.

"Kane, darling. You’re stressed. The storm will pass. But the Gala is about image. It’s about showing the other packs that House Blackwood is unshakable. Even in a blizzard, we have standards."

She squeezed my shoulder. It was meant to be comforting. It felt like a claw.

I stood up, shrugging her hand off. I walked to the window. The snow was still falling, endless and white.

"The girl," I said. "The event planner. Did she come up for dinner?"

Elara stiffened behind me. I didn't need to look to know her lips had thinned into a line.

"Noelle? I don't know. The servants eat in the kitchen. I don't keep track of the help."

"She’s not just help," I muttered.

"She’s an employee, Kane. And a clumsy one at that. She dropped a box of candles earlier. Honestly, I don't know why you hired that agency."

I turned around. "I didn't hire the agency. My secretary did. But she stays."

"Fine," Elara said, raising her hands. "She stays. But if she ruins the centerpiece, I’m firing her myself."

"Go to bed, Elara," I said. "I have work to do."

She lingered for a second, her eyes searching my face, looking for something; affection, maybe. Or a promise. She wouldn't find either.

"Goodnight, Alpha," she said stiffly.

When she left, the silence rushed back in. But it wasn't peaceful.

My wolf was pacing. Shadow was scratching the inside of my skull.

Mate is hungry, he growled. Mate is hiding.

I tried to ignore him. I poured another drink. I looked at the reports. But the words swam on the page.

I kept thinking about that cough.

I kept thinking about the toy car.

I kept thinking about Noelle, alone in the dark, shivering.

Was she alone?

The thought was a splinter in my mind. If she had a lover down there... if she had brought some human male into my house...

I slammed the glass down. It didn't break, but the sound echoed like a gunshot.

I couldn't work.

I needed water. That was the lie I told myself. I needed to go to the kitchen for water.

I walked out of the study. The house was sleeping. It was 2:00 AM. The hallways were shadows and silence.

I moved silently. I never really made any noise unless I wanted to.

I reached the kitchen archway.

I stopped.

The refrigerator light was the only thing on. It cast a wedge of white light across the dark tile floor.

And standing in that light was Noelle.

I stopped breathing.

She wasn't wearing the baggy grey sweater she wore earlier. She wasn't wearing the thick coat.

She was wearing pajamas.

If you could call them that.

They were a slip of fabric. Fake, cheap silk in a pale pink color that had probably been bright once but was faded now. The shorts were tiny. They were cut high on her thighs, showing legs that were pale and smooth and endless. The top was a camisole with thin straps that looked like they would snap if I breathed too hard.

She was reaching up into the high cabinet, standing on her tiptoes.

The movement made the shorts ride up.

Fck.*

The air left my lungs in a rush.

My body reacted instantly. Violently. It didn't care that I had rejected her. It didn't care about the years or the anger or the secrets. It just saw Mate.

She looked so soft. The light outlined the curve of her waist, the slope of her spine. She was too thin—I could see the delicate ridges of her ribs when she stretched—but she was beautiful.

She grabbed a box of crackers. She already had two apples and a stack of wrapped sandwiches on the counter.

She was hoarding food.

I stepped into the room.

"Hungry?"

She gasped. The box of crackers flew out of her hand.

I caught it before it hit the floor. My reflexes were faster than thought.

I was standing right behind her now. Close. So close I could feel the heat radiating off her skin.

She spun around, pressing her back against the counter. Her eyes were wide, huge in the darkness.

"Alpha," she breathed.

She realized what she was wearing. I saw the flush hit her chest, rising up her neck to her cheeks. She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to hide.

"I... I didn't think anyone was up," she stammered.

"Clearly," I rumbled.

My eyes dragged down her body. I couldn't help it. I looked at her bare legs. I looked at the way her knees knocked together slightly. I looked at the pulse jumping in the hollow of her throat.

"You're cold," I said.

Her skin was bumped with gooseflesh.

"The basement is freezing," she whispered. "Even with the heater."

"Then sleep upstairs. There are ten empty guest rooms."

"I can't."

"Why?"

"I told you. I’m sick."

I stepped closer. I put the box of crackers on the counter behind her, trapping her between my arms. I didn't touch her. I just caged her.

"You don't look sick," I murmured. "You look..."

Delicious. Mine. Beautiful.

"Tired," I finished.

She looked up at me. Her scent was overwhelming this close. The chemical spray had worn off. It was just her. Vanilla. And that milk scent.

It drove me crazy.

I looked at the pile of food on the counter.

Four sandwiches. Two apples. A box of crackers. Two bottles of water.

"That is a lot of food for one small girl," I said. My voice dropped an octave. "You having a party down there, Noelle?"

She swallowed hard. "I... I get hungry at night. I have a fast metabolism."

"Liar."

I leaned in. My nose brushed her hair. She shivered, a full-body tremor that I felt in my own bones.

"Who are you feeding?" I whispered against her temple. "Tell me."

"No one," she squeaked. "It's just me. Just me, Alpha. Please."

She put her hands on my chest to push me away. Her palms were cold. Through my thin shirt, they felt like brands.

She didn't push. She just rested her hands there, over my heart.

My heart was hammering against her palms. She had to feel it. She had to know what she did to me.

"You are hiding something," I groaned. "I should make you talk. I should use my Alpha voice and force you to tell me the truth."

"You could," she whispered. Her voice was sad. "You’re the Alpha. You can do whatever you want."

"I don't want to be the Alpha right now."

I looked at her mouth. Her lips were parted, pink and trembling.

I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to lift her onto the counter and wrap those pale legs around my waist and forget about the storm and the pack and the past.

I leaned closer. Our breaths mingled.

"Alpha..." she warned. But she didn't move away.

"Tell me," I demanded softly. "Is there a man?"

"No," she said. And this time, her eyes didn't waver. "No man. Never a man."

The relief that crashed through me was so strong it nearly knocked me over.

"Good," I growled.

I reached out and grabbed a thick wool throw blanket from the back of the kitchen chair. It was one of the ones the staff used.

I wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling it tight, covering the silk, covering the skin that was making me lose my mind.

"Take the food," I said, stepping back. My voice was rough, strained. "Take all of it. But if I find out you’re lying to me about being alone..."

I let the threat hang there.

She clutched the blanket and the food. She looked like a refugee. She looked like an angel.

"Goodnight, Alpha," she whispered.

She turned and ran. Her bare feet slapped against the tiles.

I watched her go. I watched the sway of her hips under the blanket.

I stayed in the kitchen for a long time. I ate one of the apples she left behind.

It tasted like vanilla.

She was hiding something. She was feeding someone.

And tomorrow, I was going to tear the door off that basement room and find out what it was. Because if it wasn't a man...

Then what the hell was it?