2: The Handsome Stranger

Juniper cannot stop looking at her hands.

It has been three hours since the giant black wolf vanished into the Iron-Wood, but her palms still feel like they are on fire. Not a painful fire, but a strange, electric hum that makes her heart race every time she thinks about it. 

"It was just a wolf, June," she mutters to herself. She is back inside her small apothecary shop, The Wildflower’s Cup. "A very big, very weirdly polite wolf."

She tries to focus on her work. She is grinding dried lavender and valerian root for a customer’s sleep tincture, but her mind is a mess. The way that animal looked at her... it didn't feel like a beast looking at prey. It felt like someone looking home.

The bell above the shop door jingles.

Juniper looks up, expecting Mrs. Higgins from down the road. Instead, the air in the room seems to vanish.

A man walks in. He is tall—easily six-foot-four—with shoulders so broad they seem to block out the afternoon sun streaming through the windows. He is wearing a dark, expensive-looking suit that fits him like a second skin. His hair is as black as a raven’s wing, and his jawline is sharp enough to cut glass.

But it’s his eyes that stop Juniper’s breath. They are a piercing, intense amber.

"Welcome," Juniper says, her voice sounding small even to her own ears. She grips the counter. "Can I help you find something?"

The man doesn't answer immediately. He stands there, his nostrils flaring slightly as if he is... smelling the air? He looks around the shop, his gaze lingering on the bundles of herbs hanging from the ceiling. When his eyes finally land on her, Juniper feels a jolt of electricity shoot down her spine. It’s the exact same feeling she felt in the garden.

"I am looking for something for... restlessness," the man says. His voice is deep. It’s a low rumble that vibrates in Juniper’s chest.

"Restlessness?" Juniper repeats, trying to find her professional voice. "I have several blends. Are you having trouble sleeping, or is it more like... anxiety?"

The man, Alaric, takes a step closer. Every movement he makes is full of a strange, predatory grace. He moves like a hunter, even in a designer suit.

"I have found something I want," Alaric says, his eyes locked on hers. "But it is out of my reach. It keeps me awake."

Juniper swallows hard. The way he says it doesn't sound like he's talking about a tea or a pill. He's staring at her with such intensity that she feels like she’s standing under a spotlight.

"Well," she says, turning to the shelves to hide the blush creeping up her neck. "A passionflower and lemon balm mix is usually best for that. It calms the nervous system."

"Does it?" Alaric asks. He is right at the counter now. He is so close she can smell him. He smells like the forest after a storm—fresh rain, cedarwood, and something dark and masculine. It’s intoxicating.

Juniper reaches for a glass jar on the top shelf, but her hands are shaking. The jar slips.

Before it can hit the floor, Alaric moves. He is impossibly fast. One moment his hands are at his sides, and the next, he is holding the jar, his hand just inches from hers.

Their fingers brush.

The world seems to tilt. The "spark" from the garden returns, ten times stronger. Juniper gasps, her eyes snapping to his. She sees his pupils blow wide until his eyes are almost entirely black. A low, soft sound escapes his throat—almost like a growl, but softer.

"Your hands," Alaric whispers. "They are cold."

"I... I’m fine," Juniper stammers, trying to pull her hand away. But he doesn't let go. He holds the jar, but his fingers stay pressed against her skin.

"You are shaking, Juniper," he says.

Her blood cold. "How do you know my name? I haven't told you my name."

Alaric freezes. For a split second, he looks like a man caught in a lie. He can't tell her he saw it on the mailbox outside, or that he’s been tracking her scent for miles.

"The sign," he says quickly, nodding toward the hand-painted board in the window that reads Juniper’s Apothecary. "I assumed."

Juniper exhales, feeling foolish. "Right. Of course. The sign."

She pulls her hand back and takes the jar from him. "I'll bag this up for you, Mr...?"

"Sterling. Alaric Sterling," he says.

"Well, Mr. Sterling, that will be fifteen dollars."

Alaric pulls out a wallet and lays a hundred-dollar bill on the counter. "Keep the change."

"That’s way too much," Juniper protests. "I can't take this."

"Take it," he says. His tone is final. It isn't a suggestion; it’s a command. "Buy yourself something. Or fix that lock on the back door. It’s flimsy."

Juniper frowns. "How do you know about my back door?"

Alaric realizes he’s said too much again. He is an Alpha; he is used to giving orders and knowing everything about his territory. He isn't used to the "dating" rules of humans. He isn't used to having to pretend he hasn't been watching her greenhouse from the shadows.

"I noticed it when I walked past," he lies smoothly. "The Iron-Wood can be dangerous at night. You should be more careful."

"I’ve lived here my whole life," Juniper says, her stubborn streak kicking in. "I can take care of myself."

Alaric leans over the counter, his face just inches from hers. The air between them is thick with tension. He wants to reach out and mark her right there. He wants to throw her over his shoulder and carry her to the safety of the pack house.

"You have no idea what is out there, Little Wildflower," he says, his voice dropping to a whisper. "There are things in these woods that would love to have a bite of you."

Before Juniper can ask what that means, the shop door swings open again.

A woman walks in. She is stunningly beautiful, with long blonde hair and eyes like ice. She is wearing leather pants and a tight jacket. She looks like she’s looking for a fight.

This is Vesper.

"Alaric," Vesper says, her voice dripping with annoyance. "The council is waiting. What are you doing in this... hut?"

Vesper looks at Juniper as if she is a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of her shoe. She sniffs the air and wrinkles her nose in disgust. "Ugh. It smells like weeds and human in here."

Juniper’s temper flares. "This 'hut' is my business. If you don't like the smell, the door is right where you left it."

Vesper’s eyes flash a strange, sickly yellow for a brief second. She takes a step toward Juniper, her teeth bared. "You little—"

"Vesper. Outside. Now," Alaric barks.

The power in Alaric’s voice is so strong that even Juniper feels like she should sit down. It isn't just a loud voice; it’s a physical force.

Vesper bristles, but she doesn't argue. She glares at Juniper one last time. "This isn't over," she hisses, before turning on her heel and stalking out.

Alaric turns back to Juniper. The terrifying power in his eyes softens instantly when he looks at her.

"I apologize for her," he says. "She has no manners."

"Who was that?" Juniper asks, her heart hammering.

"Nobody you need to worry about," Alaric says. He reaches out, and for a second, Juniper thinks he’s going to touch her cheek. He stops himself at the last moment. "I will see you again soon, Juniper."

"Wait, your tea!" Juniper calls out, but he is already gone.

She watches through the window as he gets into a massive black SUV. Vesper is in the passenger seat, looking furious.

Juniper looks down at the hundred-dollar bill on the counter and then at the jar of tea he left behind.

"What is going on?" she whispers to the empty room.

She doesn't know it yet, but the scent of her fear and her sweetness has already traveled back to the pack. And Vesper isn't the only wolf who knows that the Alpha has found a human.