Page 21 of Alpha’s Wife

As soon as they turn the corner, I feel Ryder’s eyes on me, and the silent observation cuts deeper than any words.

“Spit it out,” I say.

“I’m not sure I’ve got anything to add,” he chuckles, putting the manifests on the kitchen island. “You’ve moved her in, seems to be going well…good for you.”

I shrug, knowing exactly what he’s trying to do: get under my skin. “It’s just security; it makes sense. She ran; now I can see her. The pack is already feeling the bond magic. Even without the full effect, it’s all working out.”

“Right, of course.” He grins. “That explains the chess set-up from last night over there, and this fancy coffee you’ve suddenly got in, not to mention Maeve says you’ve been buying pastries every morning. Security.”

He’s out the door, a trail of laughter following him. It’s almost nice to hear him laugh, because nothing has amused him in quite a while, but I don’t appreciate being the object of his amusement. Especially when I don’t have a strong enough rebuttal, and he damn well knows it.

Tonight, the chessboard is already set up when I get back in the evening. I wave Tom away from his post on my porch and walk in, my wolf soaking up her presence before I even see her.

“You’re late,” she says, not looking up from her book.

“I have a settlement to run,” I reply, glancing at the stove, where dinner is cooking. When did she start cooking for us like it was a normal situation?

“Sit,” she says, indicating the board. “Dinner will still be an hour, which is plenty of time to beat you again.”

I hesitate for a moment, knowing there’s a stack of reports waiting for me and a shipment to move before the weather turns, but I sit because she asked me to, and I can’t help but be drawn into her orbit. This game between us has become the least sensible yet most necessary part of my day, and as I do so, I see something in her eyes that tells me she feels the same. Maybe the game of chess is doing some of the talking for me.

We play in silence for a few minutes.

“You’re doing it again,” she says, sliding a bishop across the board.

“Doing what?” I say, not looking up.

“Letting me win so I’ll be in a good mood,” she glances up, and I finally catch her eye. “I’m onto you, you know. You’re better than this.”

Her bishop takes my queen, and I smirk. It’s true, I am better than this, but only when I’m not distracted by her intoxicating scent.

“Is it working?” I say instead.

She doesn’t answer as she swipes my queen from the board, but I note the tips of her ears turning pink. It’s a little tell, the way she flushes when she can’t talk her way out of something, and it’s worth a lot more to me than a game of chess.

Four moves later, and my king has nowhere left to go.

“Checkmate,” she says, sitting back, insufferably pleased with herself. “I think that’s three in a row. For a moment, I thought you were going to be a worthy opponent.”

“I’m distracted,” I tell her.

“By what?” she asks, not getting it yet.

I look at her and don’t answer. I just keep on looking until the smile fades from her face and something more hesitant takes its place.

“Don’t,” she says quietly.

“Don’t what?” I say, knowing that I’m baiting her.

“Don’t look at me like that. It isn’t fair,” she says, her voice dropping to barely a whisper.

“No,” I agree. “It isn’t.”

I think she’s going to get up, make a joke, or retreat to her room—all the things she usually does when a moment stretches out between us. She doesn’t. She stays exactly where she is with the firelight on her face, her pulse beating wildly, and my wolf straining toward the sound of it.

I know what her body is telling me, and she knows that I’ve clocked it. Sitting across from a wolf, she must realize there’s nowhere left to hide.

The chessboard lies abandoned between us, and I reach over and tip her king over with one finger and watch as she flinches as it clatters against the wood.