The Alpha by Jenika Snow

11

Evelyn

Two hours later and I was sitting on a full-size bed in an out-in-the-middle-of-nowhere motel I’d seen from the road I’d been on. It seemed like something out of a horror movie, one of those that promised a creepy front desk attendant probably peeping through a hole in the shower. But I’d just been freaking myself out.

The front desk attendant had been the little old lady who’d been there to greet and check me in and had even given me pamphlets on tourist traps along the way, ones that promised the biggest ball of yarn or the largest and longest snakeskin.

So here I was, sitting on the bed with my legs crossed, the comforter under me a horrendous floral print. I was feeling off, had been since I’d gotten off the phone with Darragh, and I just couldn’t place why.

I idly thought what stains I’d come up with if I had a blacklight with me, then promptly pushed those thoughts aside before I got too grossed out. I stared down at the prepackaged sandwich, bag of chips, and bottle of water I picked up at the last gas station I stopped at before checking into the motel for the night. I regretted not grabbing my food from the Amish store, where instead I focused on the sugary goodness instead.

There was a weird flavor to my sandwich, and I was pretty sure the cheese wasn’t real. I picked up the square yellow piece, shaking it in my hand a little bit, watching it jiggle, the shiny texture and rubbery consistency making my lip curl in disgust. I dropped it into the plastic bag that my food had come in and picked up my sandwich, taking another bite, my teeth going through the lettuce and making a fresh, crisp sound echo throughout the room.

I tried callingDarragh back with the landline once I checked in, but it was late—or too early—in Scotland, so there hadn't been an answer. I kept thinking about what she’d said and her broken-up words. I tried to piece them together, to try to figure out what she’d been saying, because it seemed important. And although I hadn’t been able to figure it out, a part of me knew it had something to do with Cian.

Just thinking his name had a flutter of something strong moving through me.

I’d never experienced whatever this was before, so I couldn’t explain it, but it filled every part of me with this dark awakening, as if I was missing something monumental by not giving in. But I pushed those thoughts away, refusing to let them live rent-free in my head.

I took another bite of my sandwich, staring at the boxy TV that had the sound turned all the way down, the news station talking about the county fair that was happening in the next week.

So of course with nothing else to do, my mind immediately went back to Cian and what I remembered during our one and only interaction. I remembered how he looked as I stared at him through the phone. It seemed so long ago, not just days having passed since my entire life had changed.

I ended up eating half the sandwich, all the chips, drinking a quarter of the water, and shamelessly ate a cinnamon roll and an apple turnover.

Belly full and sugar and carbs making me lethargic, I decided I was tired enough to call it a night. But first I spread out the road map I’d been smart enough to grab at the gas station once I realized Internet maps and Wi-Fi were nonexistent so far on my trip.

I smoothed my palms over the thick paper, the swish of my skin sliding over it almost relaxing in a sense. I liked to think of myself as an intelligent, independent woman, but I relied too heavily on technology, and map reading just wasn’t in my skill set. And that was evidently clearer the longer I stared at the roads and highways, the landmarks and street names. It was like another language to me.

It got to the point where my head started pounding, and I folded the map up to push it away, telling myself I’d worry about it later. After showering and brushing my teeth, I put on an oversize T-shirt and a pair of panties before slipping under the covers and extinguishing the bedside table light. I was facing the lone window in the room, the curtains closed except for one slivered part of where the two pieces of fabric didn’t quite meet.

The one parking lot light was directly in front of my window, the dirty-yellow glow washing into the room and illuminating a slice of the otherwise thick, dark interior.

Although I had no family and no real friends aside from Darragh, I felt myself feel something. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it and knew it wasn’t just because my best friend was gone. It was tied to a certain man who claimed to be a wolf shifter that had this ache—both pleasurable and uncomfortable—moving through me.

I actually found myself lifting my hand and rubbing a palm over my sternum, wondering if the things I felt were over the fact that I had always been alone even if I was surrounded by people. I wondered if I’d fill that gaping hole in my chest if I stopped running and accepted what life was now offering me.

Frustrated with myself, I laid on my back and stared at the ceiling, letting my gaze circle around a water stain right above my head, the shadows making it look even darker. Despite my best efforts, Cian's image and the rough sound of his voice popped into my head.

I started thinking about who he really was, how his life had been, and what it all meant to be the kind of creature he was. I was slowly trying to wrap my mind around all the supernatural things that had thrust themselves into my world, common sense and rationality waging war with me over it. These things aren’t possible in the world I live in.

It was the thought of Cian, the image of his big, muscular body, all that power I’d seen and felt through the phone, and the fantasy of him coming after me, chasing me because he had a claim on me, that filtered through my mind.

And I let myself be consumed by all things him as I closed my eyes and fell asleep.