CHAPTER TWO- WOLF VALLEY
1182 Words
Irene set out for work that Monday morning, a month having passed since she and Nalia had arrived in Wolf Valley.
The early autumn air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves, a fragrance that clung to the valley like a persistent whisper.
The townsfolk she encountered on the narrow, winding streets offered polite nods and quiet "good mornings," their faces etched with a placidness that bordered on unnerving.
They were peaceful, yes, but their gazes held a certain reserve, a watchfulness that made Irene feel like an outsider under constant, albeit subtle, scrutiny.
There was an undeniable strangeness to Wolf Valley, a palpable undercurrent that hummed beneath the surface of everyday life.
It wasn't just the lingering echoes of her vivid dreams, the haunting image of those deep violet eyes that seemed to follow her into her waking hours.
It was a constant feeling of being observed, a prickling sensation on the back of her neck whenever she ventured beyond the familiar walls of the old house.
She would often glance over her shoulder, half-expecting to see someone, something, but find only the quiet stillness of the valley, the long shadows stretching from the ancient trees that lined the roads.
She tried to rationalize it, to chalk it up to the unfamiliarity of her new surroundings, the lingering grief that made her senses hyper-alert.
But the shivers that traced patterns across her skin, the goosebumps that erupted like tiny electrical charges, felt too real, too visceral to be mere figments of her imagination.
It was as if an unseen presence was always just beyond her periphery, a silent guardian or perhaps… something else.
The little cafe owned by Mr. John was located on the main street, a cozy establishment with lace curtains in the windows and the inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee perpetually wafting from its open door.
Three days prior, on a Friday that now felt like a distant memory, she had sat across from the imposing figure of Mr. John for her job interview.
His large frame and brooding features had initially been intimidating, and his piercing gaze seemed to assess her with an unnerving intensity.
"So Christopher and May had a daughter, interesting," he had murmured, more to himself than to her, after she confirmed her parentage.
He had stood then, his shadow falling over the small table, and for a fleeting moment, Irene had been struck by the sheer physicality of the men in this town.
They were all built like… well, like the statues she had seen in books about ancient Greece, strong and formidable.
The thought had been so incongruous, so out of place, that she had almost laughed, her mind momentarily flitting to whimsical images of gods and goddesses amidst the mundane reality of a small-town cafe.
"You knew my mother?" she had asked, pulling herself back to the conversation.
"Oh yes," he had replied, his voice softening slightly, a hint of something akin to fondness in his tone. "Very well."
She had a dozen more questions on the tip of her tongue – How well? What was she like? What happened? – but the set of his jaw and the distant look in his eyes had told her that he wouldn't be forthcoming with more information at that time.
So, she had let it be, accepting the offered waitress position and hoping for future opportunities to learn more about her parents' connection to Wolf Valley.
Now, walking towards the cafe, she couldn't help but feel a knot of apprehension in her stomach. She hoped that Mr. John's gruff exterior masked a more approachable personality.
As she pushed open the door, a bell above jingled merrily, announcing her arrival. The cafe was already bustling with a small crowd of locals, the air thick with the mingled scents of coffee, pastries, and frying food. Mr. John stood behind the counter, his large hands efficiently wiping it down.
"Good morning, John," Irene said, offering a tentative smile. He had insisted she call him by his first name, stating with a gruff chuckle that he wasn't "old enough for the 'Mister' just yet."
He looked up, his expression softening slightly when he saw her. "Morning, Irene. Right on time. Grab an apron, it's already shaping up to be a busy one."
The morning flew by in a whirlwind of orders, coffee refills, and balancing trays laden with food.
The work was demanding but kept her mind occupied, a welcome distraction from her unsettling thoughts.
The townsfolk who came and went were generally polite, but Irene couldn't ignore the curious glances they cast her way, the subtle lingering of their eyes as if trying to place her, to understand her presence in their town.
Some even offered brief, almost hesitant smiles, while others seemed more reserved, their expressions unreadable.
She noticed a few hushed conversations that seemed to die down as she approached, and she couldn't shake the feeling that she was the subject of their quiet scrutiny. It wasn't hostile, not exactly, but it was definitely… different.
Just as the lunchtime rush began to subside, a palpable shift occurred in the atmosphere of the cafe. It was as if an invisible weight had settled upon the room, a sudden hush falling over the remaining conversations. Irene felt a prickling sensation on her arms, a subtle tightening in her chest.
The cause of this change became apparent as the door creaked open and a young man stepped inside.
He was tall, with broad shoulders that strained the fabric of his simple leather jacket. His dark hair was longish, falling across a face that was both ruggedly handsome and strangely intense.
He moved with a slow, deliberate grace, his gaze sweeping across the room, seemingly taking in every detail.
There was an undeniable aura of power about him, a quiet dominance that seemed to command the attention of everyone present. He looked to be in his late twenties, perhaps early thirties.
As he walked further into the cafe, his eyes, the color of molten gold, locked onto Irene. It wasn't a casual glance; it was a look of profound recognition, of something ancient and deeply ingrained.
An electric current seemed to crackle in the air between them, a tangible energy that made the hairs on Irene's arms stand on end.
Just behind him, from the doorway, came a low, guttural sound, a faint growl that sent a shiver of something primal down Irene's spine.
She instinctively turned her head, her gaze falling upon the most magnificent creature she had ever seen.
It was large, with sleek, dark fur the color of midnight, and its eyes… its eyes were the same breathtaking shade of molten gold as the young man's, burning with an intelligence that was both wild and knowing.
The young man took another slow step towards Irene, his golden gaze never leaving hers. A single word, raw and possessive, rumbled from his chest, a sound that seemed to vibrate through the very floorboards of the cafe and resonate deep within Irene's soul.
"Mate."
- Writer
