chapter 47

No matter how enjoyable breakfast with the pack is, one breakfast was never going to be enough to chase away all the ghosts that have haunted me since my parents went for a run on my eighth birthday, and never came back.

So, when the pack members who’ve finished eating gather up their plates and start clearing away the leftovers after they ask me if I’m done, I take advantage of the commotion, and of Dayne who's retreated to his office, and slip back upstairs.

I’ve only just burrowed beneath the covers before Dayne is there, ripping them off me despite all my desperate efforts to cling onto them.

“Get dressed, we’re going out in twenty minutes.”

I’m not in the mood for his orders. Yeah, the breakfast with the pack was nice. More than nice, in fact. But today I just want need to be alone.

“Look, I know you want me to do things, but just not today. Tomorrow, I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll cook all day, and clean and do gardening or whatever. Anything. Today please can I just be alone. Please.”

Barely glancing at me, Dayne turns to leave.

“You have fifteen minutes.”

It hasn’t been five minutes since he told me I had twenty minutes. Not even close.

“Dayne, please ”

But my words are wasted on him as he jerks open the bedroom door and slips out, shutting it firmly behind him.

“Ten minutes. And wear shoes.”

I stare at the door, then screeching in frustration I snatch up a pillow and hurl it across the room before collapsing back into bed.

I stay like that for a minute, maybe a little more, but then I get up because I know Dayne, and if he comes back and finds me still in bed, I have no trouble picturing him dragging me from it.

Because this wasn’t him asking me to get ready. This was him telling me.

Dayne waits for me outside the farmhouse.

He’s standing at the bottom of the porch steps, staring out into the forests in jeans, a long-sleeve tee, and his boots.

When I stomp down the porch stairs in a pair of black combat-style boots, blue jeans, and a gray fluffy sweater I’ve pulled over my t-shirt since it’s still early and a little chilly, I make no attempt at hiding how pissed off I am.

Without turning away from the sight of early morning sunlight sweeping over the trees, Dayne thrusts his hand in my direction.

I give it a withering stare.

“You want to hold hands,” I say, disbelieving.

Hearing a choked sound, I glance up into his face but his profile suggests not even a hint of emotion.

Still, something about him, about his intense focus on the trees, and the sound I heard him made, has me frowning.

Why am I getting the impression that once again I just missed something?

“I don’t want to be stopping to pick you up every five minutes. Give me your hand.”

“I tripped. Once,” I snap.

And that was only because at the time I was being blinded by his shirt as I left my former pack. But I don’t complain, I do as I’m told, I grab his hand. As always, it’s hot, and he closes his hand firmly around mine.

Under no circumstance will I ever admit how good it feels.

Instead, I curl my lip and make my hand limp in his to give the impression it’s absolutely the last thing I want.

Feeling like I’m being observed, and from the direction of the den windows, I turn back in time to catch the curtains twitching.

Poised to ask Dayne if he feels like he’s being watched, instead, I nearly fall when he suddenly yanks at my hand.

“Come on. We don’t have all day.”

For the first few minutes… no, if I’m being honest, it’s closer to an hour, as Dayne leads the way into the forest and up the mountain, I grumble under my breath and stomp all the way.

But then, it’s hard to know when I find myself relaxing and enjoying the walk. The woods are beautiful, and I’ve always loved to be surrounded by nature. It eases my soul in a way nothing else does.

At some points, when we hit an incline, I catch glimpses of the mountains in the distance. Not the Rockies, I don’t think, but that doesn’t make it any less gorgeous.

The air is crisp, the sound of wildlife, of rabbits and other creatures moving under the brush ensures it’s not peaceful, but it fills me with tranquility all the same.

We walk for nearly two hours, following the path the lake takes up into the mountain, and we’re serenaded by the happy chirping of birds in the trees above us, and the soft rustling of squirrels and rabbits waking up.

After his initial forceful tug back at the farmhouse, Dayne slowed down, and although he has much longer legs than I do, it’s easy enough for me to keep up.

And though our pace has been more leisurely than a strenuous hike, soon I’m getting thirsty. But without me having to say a word, Dayne is stopping at the lake and dropping my hand before striding away.

Since we didn’t bring a water bottle with us, with the lake looking so inviting, I go to my knees, and use my cupped hands to drink a few mouthfuls.

Cold, crisp, and delicious water slides down my throat and it’s so perfect I close my eyes to savor it. Better than any bottled water ever.

“Come here.”

Lifting my head, I turn to find Dayne sitting with his back against a tree, staring off into the distance.

Squinting, I try to make out what he’s looking at, but I can’t from where I’m kneeling.

“Why?”

“I said, come here,” he growls.

“God, are all alphas like you? All come here, go there, do this, it’s a wonder any woman would ever choose to mate with an alpha in the first place,” I grumble as I stomp my way over to him.

He makes no response, though I’m convinced I catch his lip twitching.

But that can’t be right. Dayne Blackshaw, smiling at me?

No way. I’m definitely seeing things.

Once I drop down beside him, I stretch my legs out in front of me as he’s doing. Except, when I go to lean my back against the tree, he shifts me and tucks me close beside him, his arm curving around me.

I get ready to snap at him again for manhandling me, but when I feel his fingers playing with the ends of my hair, I forget what I was about to say.

The way he does it makes my scalp tingle with awareness at the gentle pressure he’s exerting as he tugs and winds my hair around his finger.

It’s… nice, more than nice. Glorious.

Before I know it, I’m leaning my head into his neck, burrowing into him as my arm creeps up his back and the other slides around his front.

I’m taking a second to consider what’s going on here. Something impossible. Me and Dayne Blackshaw, the cold-blooded alpha, snuggling.

And that’s when I see it.

What he was looking at in the distance, between the trees.

The reason he ordered me over like some kind of Neanderthal man.

Right in between two towering trees is a glimpse of the Rockies.

It’s cloudy enough that the snowy peaks of the mountains look hazy like I’m in a weird half-dream state, but what I see stuns me.

It’s so incredible, I can’t stop grinning inanely at it even when I feel Dayne shifting to look down at me.

“Oh,” I whisper, unable to find the words to communicate how much I’m in love with what I’m seeing.

But he doesn’t call me stupid or laugh when my eyes fill with tears, even though I wouldn’t blame him for it, because who cries at the sight of mountains?

No, he just holds me closer as I blink my tears away, unable to turn from the sight of something I never thought I’d ever see again.

As magical the sight of the mountains are, it isn’t long before I’m struggling to keep my eyes open.

A severe lack of sleep, disturbing nightmares, and the way Dayne is playing with my hair soon has me burrowing deeper into his warm body as time goes by.

It can’t have been over three hours since I’ve been awake, and so far, it’s already been the best birthday I’ve ever had.

Without meaning to, maybe it’s tiredness, maybe I’m just that grateful, I end up blurting out more than I intend.

“This has been the best birthday ever, Dayne, thank you,” I murmur, already more asleep than awake.

He doesn’t respond. If he does, it’s after I’ve fallen asleep.

And if I feel the brush of something against my forehead as I sink into oblivion, I tell myself it couldn’t possibly be Dayne kissing me.

Because this is a dream and I’m asleep.

None of this: breakfast with the pack, Dayne taking me on a walk to show me something I’ve been desperate to see practically all my life, and him holding me like this can be real.

Things that good never happen to me.