86

ALEXANDER

This trip was nothing but a pathetic attempt to outrun my own head. I told myself it was business. I told myself I needed the distance. Truth was, I needed to get Alina out of arm’s reach, because as long as she was close, she was in my blood. And I hated her for that.

I thought crossing two continents would help. That if I put oceans between us, she’d fade. But every night, no matter where I was, she still came back to me in the shape of her voice, in the tilt of her chin, in the heat of her skin under my hands.

Some nights it got so bad I couldn’t sleep unless I wrapped my fist around myself and took the edge off. Pathetic. And still, she’d be there the second I shut my eyes.

Even the work I came here to do… I’d been dragging it out. Not because it was complicated but because finishing it meant going back.

The door swung open without a knock, and Amanda shuffled in like she owned the damn place.

Sheila had been in my life longer than I could remember, my mother’s nanny since she was a girl, midwife at my birth, keeper of this house for decades.

To the rest of the world, I was The Wolf Slayer. The Monster. The man people whispered about in hallways. Sheila didn’t care. Never had. Though I guess it would be hard for her to see me beyond the boy she raised.

“What do you want, Sheila?” I muttered, pushing up from the bed.

She stood at the foot, arms folded, her stare flat and unblinking.

“You know, plenty of people have died for less than the attitude you give me,” I said, reaching blindly for the black shirt I’d tossed aside last night. My fingers met empty air.

“Looking for this?” She held it up like a trophy.

I sighed. “Would you be so kind as to throw it over?”

She was a caricature of herself, white hair pulled tight into a bun, glasses hanging low on her nose, the same uniform she’d worn since the day I met her. I was pretty sure she’d looked exactly like this for the last two decades.

“You’ve got two legs. Use them,” she said. “What kind of man makes an old woman serve him?”

“You should thank me,” I shot back. “I’m sparing you the trauma of seeing my cock.”

Wrong move.

“I was there when you came screaming out of your mother, you little bastard. I’ve seen more penises than you’ve had hot meals, and yours isn’t special.”

I just stared. Mouth slightly open. No, I wasn't offended. She’d actually managed to shut me up.

She tossed the shirt at me with a flick of her wrist and stalked out, slamming the door harder than necessary.

I wondered again why I always came here when I wanted to disappear. Then remembered it was the only place that ever felt like a home.

My mother used to come here when she needed to get away from the man she’d been forced to mate with. She’d bring me along when I was a boy. It infuriated my father to no end. Breaks were for women and me taking one with her meant I would turn soft. A pussy. He'd said with so much disgust.

She did make me soft, for a time. But I’d shown him just how much of that softness remained the day I watched him choke on his last breath. He’d have gone quickly with a standard dose, but I’d tripled it. Watched his eyes glaze, watched his body fight the inevitable. He deserved every second.

I nodded at the memory and got in the shower. Ten full minutes passed before Alina crept back into my thoughts. New record.

By the time I stepped out, I was hard again. It came hand in hand with thinking about her. I dealt with it in the bathroom before I dressed. That’s when my phone rang. Claude’s name flashed on the screen.

He hadn’t been thrilled when I told him I was leaving, even less thrilled that I was going alone. Maybe part of me wanted to see what he’d do with Alina in my absence.

“You don’t have an update,” he said instead of greeting me. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be answering your own calls.”

“Did you think I was going to die?”

“Die’s a strong word. You’ve probably cut a deal with the Grim Reaper to make it this far. But that’s not why I’m calling.” His tone shifted, now sharp.

My hand stilled on the shirt I was pulling over my head. “What’s going on?”

“This is about Alina.”

My pulse jumped before I could stop it. “What happened?”

“She’s been sick. Really sick. I think she’s homesick.”

“Good,” I said flatly. “That’s her home now.”

“Could you stop being a dick for five seconds? You slaughtered her whole family.”

“And if I remember right, you were happy to help.” I glanced at the clock on the wall. “I’ve got work. Find her a hobby if she’s bored. She’s not going back.”

Before he could argue, I ended the call.

But the conversation sat in my gut like a stone. Enough to make me finally want to wrap this job up and get on a plane.

Distance wasn’t helping. Distraction had failed. And whether I liked it or not, I’d be heading back to her.