Fated By Starlight by Krista Street

Chapter 12

~ AVERY ~

My stomach twisted and turned as violently as the winding hills that Wyatt drove us through to reach headquarters. Evening was setting in, and a few stars peeked through the darkening sky like diamonds in an obsidian cave.

I tried to concentrate on those specks of light that had traveled millions of light years across the vast universe to reach us.

Instead, my head swam with vertigo.

Perhaps drinking so much hadn’t been a good idea. Unlike most supernaturals, I didn’t metabolize it any faster than humans.

I angled my body toward my commander. He looked tense, his hands gripping the wheel firmly. That edge of energy still clung to him, and my internal radar peeked at maximum capacity.

Wow, he’s majorly peeved.

“Wyatt, what’s going on?” I slapped a hand over my mouth when my unfiltered tipsy response didn’t stay inside my head. “I mean, sir, what’s going on? Why did the Institute call you about me?”

I blamed my drunken state for the fact that I’d once again addressed my superior incorrectly and so bluntly. Seriously, I was never going to get this right.

But Wyatt didn’t chastise me. Instead he glanced my way in the dark cab. His green eyes glittered, his werewolf origins rimming them in gold. I knew enough about werewolves—I mean I was partly werewolf—to know that heightened emotions were the cause of glowing eyes.

As for what Wyatt’s heightened emotion was, I didn’t know.

“You’re supposed to check in with the Institute this weekend.” His attention returned to the road. His jaw worked rhythmically as he navigated the foothills.

I brought a hand to my forehead. It felt as if the car was spinning. “Supposed to check in with them? That’s what you pulled me from the bar for?”

“Yes,” he replied, his tone clipped.

“Is it urgent? Are they wanting me to contact them right now?” I couldn’t imagine that anything was so pressing that I needed to wake somebody up. After all it couldn’t be more than two or three in the morning in Geneva, but if Wyatt said I needed to contact them, then maybe something had happened.

“I suppose it’s not urgent,” he said gruffly. “You can wait until tomorrow to check in.”

I shook my head in confusion. “So . . . why am I going back to headquarters?”

His teeth ground together, like rocks grating on concrete. “Perhaps I acted a bit hastily,” he finally said.

I had no idea how to reply to that. He obviously thought my priorities were with the Institute, so I would want to call them right away, but to come all the way down to the bar to pass along that message?

That just didn’t make sense.

However, I was drunk, so maybe it did make sense to sober people.

Not wanting to dwell on it further, I sat back in my seat. Most likely, I was missing something. With any luck, tomorrow it would become clear.

Wyatt steered around a sharp curve on the snaking road.

My stomach lurched. “Sir, would you mind slowing down?” I gripped my door handle in alarm.

A flash of concern crossed his features. “Are you not feeling well?”

“I think I drank too much.”

He swore and immediately slowed the vehicle, and some of the dizziness abated. I sank lower in my seat and brought a hand to my head.

“Should I open a window for you? Do you need me to pull over?”

“I can open the window.” I fumbled with the switch but managed to lower it down. Warm air swirled into the cab, but the speed of the vehicle made it feel slightly cooler. I tipped my head to the side and relished the soft breeze.

Wyatt didn’t say anything further, but the steadily rolling energy off him let me know something deeper was going on with my commander. But I couldn’t be bothered trying to figure it out. It was taking everything in my power not to barf up the half-dozen shots I’d downed.

The magical barrier to the SF headquarters appeared ahead. I kept my eyes closed when we crossed through the portal. The free-falling sensation made my stomach almost hurl, but I managed to keep my lips pressed firmly together until we emerged in the SF garage.

Most of the aircraft were gone. Only one sat dormant in the center, a tarp covering it. About fifty cars were parked on the perimeter, and only a handful of technicians worked, probably because of the late hour.

“Major Jamison, good evening.” One of the technicians came to my open window to address my commander. When he spotted me, his eyebrows rose.

“Hello,” I managed.

He merely tipped his head politely at Wyatt before directing us to a parking spot.

As soon as Wyatt parked, I was unbuckling my seatbelt and opening my door. I hadn’t managed to place a foot on the ground before Wyatt was at my side.

“You don’t look well. Perhaps I should take you to the healing center.”My eyes widened in alarm. The last thing I wanted was a second trip to the healing center for the witches to see me in another embarrassing state. My weaknesses had already reared their ugly heads enough times during the past five days. I didn’t need another mark chalked against me.“No, I’m fine. I just drank too much and need to walk it off. And water, I should probably drink some water.”At least my words weren’t slurred.Small miracles.However, the concern on Wyatt’s face only grew. Before I could protest further, he was slipping an arm around my waist and guiding me toward the door.The feel of his warm hand pressed against my side made me shiver, and his alluring pine and oak scent swam through my senses.An entirely new feeling grew in my stomach. How long had I dreamed of Wyatt touching me this way? When I’d been in high school, it had consumed my thoughts.My heels clicked as he led me toward the door. It wasn’t lost on me that every male in the garage turned their head when I passed. When I’d left with Eliza and Charlotte, the same thing had happened. But now, as a lone woman in a miniskirt and crop top, I felt like a neon sign blazing for attention.A soft growl erupted from Wyatt.Every technician snapped their gaze away.I frowned. It was the second time tonight Wyatt had shown displeasure at males showing me attention. Was that why he’d taken me from the bar?

Wyatt held onto me down the stairs and through the tunnel to the main buildings. After gliding up the elevator and out the doors, we were once again outside and heading toward the barracks.

The moon shone down on us, and with each step we took, I became increasingly aware that Wyatt still held me. I knew I should tell him I was fine, that I was perfectly capable of walking on my own, but then he would let go.

And for the life of me, I didn’t want him to.

He was still as kind and attentive as I remembered him. He just laughed less.

“You’re as kind now as you were back then.”

“Back then?”

Oh shit. I said that out loud.

“Never mind.” I had enough of my wits about me to cement my mouth closed. “Did the Institute say who I should ask for tomorrow when I call?”

Wyatt cleared his throat. “Um, no. I just believe you’re supposed to check in.”

Check in? That’s all? I’d intended to do that on Monday, after my first week had completed, since I’d never been giving a specific timeframe on my check-in calls, but even I knew about those.

“So they didn’t—”

“Here we are. I’ll help you into your apartment.”

We’d reached the barracks, and he opened the door for me. I felt somewhat like an invalid with how much he hovered, but I knew part of that was due to his alpha werewolf origins.

Wyatt’s father, Walter Jamison, was the Alpha of the British Columbia werewolf pack. I knew Wyatt’s eldest brother was in line to take over his father’s alpha status once his father stepped down, but that didn’t mean Wyatt was any less dominant.

And as alpha werewolves went, they were nothing if not attentive to females. I reminded myself of that as we trudged up the stairs, but the stairwell swam around me, and I swayed.

Wyatt tightened his hold on my waist, but I knew it didn’t mean anything. He was simply following his instinct, which was to protect and attend.

It was just another thing that made my heart patter around him.

“This is me.” I said when we reached my door. I fumbled in my purse for my keys, then remembered that I’d given them to Charlotte. “Shit. Char has my keys. I’m locked out.”

Wyatt chuckled. “That’s what these are for.” He lifted my hand and placed my finger against the magical holograph.

The door clicked open.

Before I could register that Wyatt was touching more of me, he opened the door and flipped the lights on. I expected him to leave since I was safely home, but he accompanied me into my apartment and closed the door.

Okay . . .

I kicked my heels off, and for the briefest moment, Wyatt’s gaze drifted to my legs before his chin shot up.

I stopped my fidgeting. “Um, thank you for seeing me home. I’ll be sure to call the Institute tomorrow to check in.”

We faced one another awkwardly, and for the first time in the years I’d known Wyatt Jamison, he looked unsure of himself. He shoved his hands into his pockets, then released one and threaded it through his hair. “How about I get that glass of water for you?”

He moved at werewolf speed into the kitchen, which meant it looked like he disappeared and then reappeared by the sink. Before I could take another breath, he was pressing a glass of cool water into my palm. Only a little bit sloshed over the rim from his abrupt stop.

“Oh, thank you.” I brought the glass to my lips and drank greedily. My head had begun to clear a bit, but I was still far from sober, because I still couldn’t understand why my commander hadn’t left.

But, since he was still here, I should be a good host. At least, that was what my foggy brain felt was the right thing to do.

“Are you hungry or thirsty?” I asked. “I could bake something.”

Wyatt grunted. “I’m usually hungry.”

I breezed past him into the kitchen, the air fluttering against my bare midriff. A squeaking sound behind me let me know Wyatt had sat on one of the barstools. The middle one squeaked loudly every time someone sat on it.

“I’ve been wanting to bake all week. In fact, I’ve been wanting to try a new sponge cake recipe.”

Wyatt’s lips tugged up in a crooked smile.

My heart stopped. Gods, he was so sexy.

Swirling back around, in my ataxic state I went to the cupboard to grab supplies.

One of the first things I’d checked as we’d settled into our apartment, was what supplies the SF had stocked in our shelves.

I’d been delighted to find all of the essentials for baking. Flour, sugar, salt, baking powder and soda, cocoa, the list went on. And the fridge held milk, butter, and eggs.

I fumbled in the shelves and pulled out what I needed. Behind me, Wyatt watched.

If either of us thought that it was odd that an SF commander was overlooking his new recruit while she whirled around drunkenly in her kitchen in a miniskirt, neither of us commented.

I flashed him what I hoped was a confident smile. “This won’t take long.”