Chapter Three: Adara

After crossing the vast expanse of Dane Wiltshire’s property, I reached the house I’d come to see. . . .

Only to be disappointed by a large “SOLD” sign.

There'd be no realtor on hand to show me the interior of the fine villa.

What a let down.

Now I had to make my way back across the wet sand, toward my home beyond the park on the other side of the island.

The sun sank on the horizon. The air turned cool. The nights were cold, beginning at dusk. A wind blew off the sea with gusts of salty air.  I regretted not bringing a jacket.  

I trudged through the wet sand. The feeling of the same on my feet was chilling, especially when I failed to dodge the cold waves. I paused and put on my sandals, even though I knew the saltwater would ruin them.

I kept walking, rubbing my hands up and down my sides, trying to warm myself.

My thin dress had seemed so practical earlier in the bright sunlight.

Now, my nipples grew erect and hard from the cool breeze and rubbed painfully against the thin fabric.

I hugged myself for warmth as I walked.

I was now crossing behind Dane Wiltshire’s estate, the biggest and most opulent on the island. This was known to everyone, even though the man himself was reclusive and rarely seen.

I looked up, but Mr. Dane Wiltshire was no longer on his deck.

This was disappointing, because I’d planned to bolster my courage to ask him for a jacket that I could wear for my long walk home.

But no, I could never be that bold.

Not with Dane Wiltshire, Vukasin Island’s Alpha. 

In spite of rubbing my hands up and down along my bare arms as I hugged myself, by now I was shivering, and my teeth were chattering.

I gazed out to sea where the great orange ball of the sun was at the edge of the horizon. Pink and purple colors made for a gorgeous island sunset.

A few sail boaters cruised along, looking west and enjoying the beauty.

They all wore sweaters and jackets. Some had on hats.

I felt stupid for being so underdressed.

As I stared out to sea, I was startled to hear a voice behind me.

“Good evening.”

I swiveled my head, and there was Dane Wiltshire, wearing a heavy and expensive-looking sweater.

He cradled something black and wooly in his arms.

At first I thought it was a dog. But I remembered werewolves are not permitted to have them, for fear of what they might do under the full moon. There were no pets at all on the island, unless you counted the huge snarling mastiffs with spiked collars that the Enforcement Officers kept in kennels, for use when the werewolves rampaged during Taleeneff.

These were my thoughts as Dane Wiltshire crossed the sand toward me.

“Good evening,” he said again.

I could only smile. I hugged myself tighter to keep him from seeing my erect nipples through the thin fabric of my dress.

“Aren’t you Miss Huntington, Miss Adara Huntington?”

I was stunned that he knew my name. He had a reputation as a recluse who rarely left his home, never socialized, and didn’t attend the monthly island-wide dark moon festival.

What he held was not a black dog, but a wooly mohair sweater.

He thrust it toward me as we stood there, he on the dry sand and I on the wet sand. It was as if that literal line in the sand marked the vast separation between us: he the eccentric and handsome billionaire, master of this enormous estate, and Alpha wolf, and I, daughter of a hardware monger, plain-looking, and underdressed in the most literal sense of the word.

I took the sweater from him, holding one arm against my chest to hide my erect nipples.

“I'm Dane."

"Yes. Mr. Wiltshire."

" 'Dane' is good enough. Turn around.” It was a command. And then, more gently: “Let me help you.”

He took shook out the garment, held it by the tops of the shoulders as one would hold a coat for a lady.

I slid my arms into the sleeves.

My hand brushed against his.

There was a mild jolt of static electricity.

I knew what it was. It was the feeling a human gets when touching any werewolf for the first time—nature’s way of helping us recognize them when they’re in human form.

“Thanks.” I fastened the toggles in the front of the garment. “I was freezing.”

“I could tell.”

Had he been watching me?

With the sweater hanging nearly to my knees, I looked up into his wolfish eyes. I saw, not the expression of the arrogant and even cruel man he was rumored to be, but a look of kindness.

Could that be genuine? Could this Alpha male be a benevolent being when in human form?

How does the poem go?

Even a man who is pure of heart

And says his prayers at night

May become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms

And the moon is full and bright.

Was he a man “pure of heart” before he was turned Lupine? Was he still? Was he someone kind and thoughtful and considerate, contrary to his reputation for moodiness, arrogance, and conceit?

I wondered about this, as I stared into his yellow-flecked eyes,

He stared back at me.

I broke the silence.

“Well,” I began stupidly. “Thank you.”

He nodded. “My pleasure to help a lady in distress.”

Another long silence.

I am rarely at a loss for words. I’ve been accused by my sister Emmalina of talking too much. But now I had nothing to say.

What was wrong with me?

“Well.” I sounded even more insipid this time. “I should be getting home.”

He lifted his right hand and gave me a little salute.

Feeling much warmer and more comfortable than before, I made my way across the sand at the water’s edge, stepping slowly toward home.

At one point I turned to look back, thinking he’d be there on his veranda, watching me as I walked away.

But he was gone.