Chapter 37

Elara

Alaric’s silent presence in the doorway should’ve startled me, but instead, I found myself blinking at him through the haze of wine. He said absolutely nothing, just stood there, his broad frame shadowing the doorway, his face unreadable.

“Alaric?” I called out, furrowing my brow. “Are you alright?”

He didn’t answer—just continued to stand there, staring at me. I glanced down at the two wine bottles beside me, one empty and the other nearly empty, and wondered if he was silently judging me for drinking so much.

The bottle in my hand sloshed a little as I sighed and poured a glass for him.

“Sorry I raided your wine cabinet,” I slurred, holding the glass out toward him. “But it’s been a long week. I needed a drink. Or five. Have one with me?”

But as I held the glass out, he didn’t reach for it, nor did he say anything. He didn’t even move or show any emotion on his face. He was like… a marble statue.

“You’re going to just stand there and stare at me?” I said, arching an eyebrow. Shaking my head, I poured the wine I had poured for him into my own glass and raised the glass to my lips, savoring the bitterness before letting it burn its way down. “Is the great Alpha Donovan messing with me?”

No answer. Not even so much as a twitch.

I squinted at him, leaning back against the kitchen cabinets as I swirled the wine in my glass. “What? Did you lose your voice? Alphas are supposed to be intimidating, you know. Not… whatever this is.”

Still nothing.

Okay, I thought, my pulse picking up slightly. This was weird. The Alaric I knew would have told me to stop drinking by now, or would have at least rolled his eyes and walked away. But he was silent as ever.

Was he sleepwalking?

I tilted my head, confused. “If you’re going to stand there like a statue, I’ll just assume I’ve officially lost it.”

When he didn’t move, I decided to test the theory. I took a deep breath and said the most absurd thing I could think of. “You know, Alaric, I think you’d look amazing in a tutu. Maybe a nice pink one with sparkles. What do you think? Shall I call your mother and let her know?”

Still nothing. Not a flicker of irritation. Not even an arched eyebrow.

“Unbelievable,” I muttered, hopping off the counter. My feet hit the cold tile, but the wine’s warmth made me bold. I strode across the room, stopping inches away from his chest. He was so close now that I could smell the lingering traces of his cologne on his skin, that familiar scent of pine.

“If you’re not going to say anything, I’ll take matters into my own hands,” I said, grabbing the collar of his shirt. I yanked him down to my level, and for a fleeting second, I wondered if I’d gone too far. But when he still didn’t react, I let the wine guide me.

My hand drifted to his chest, my fingers brushing over the solid plane of muscle beneath his shirt. There was a dip and a rise as my hand traced the swell of his pectorals, and it made me shiver a little.

“Huh,” I said thoughtfully. “So this is what an Alpha feels like. Not bad, Donovan. Not bad at all.”

Still nothing. His face remained utterly blank, even when I pinched his shoulder to wake him up in case he was sleepwalking. I was beginning to think that the wine really had affected me. Maybe I was hallucinating.

“Hmph,” I grumbled, dropping my hand. But then my gaze dipped lower, and a wicked thought crossed my mind. Before I could second-guess myself, I reached behind him and gave his backside a firm squeeze.

He didn’t react, not even when my fingers dug lightly into his incredibly muscular rear end. He just stood there, blinking blankly at me.

A laugh bubbled out of me before I could stop it. “Man, I really did drink too much, didn’t I?” I giggled, pressing the heel of my palm against my forehead. “This has to be a dream. There’s no way you would let me get away with that otherwise. Not in a million years, at least.”

With that, I let go of his shirt and stumbled back a step, my head spinning slightly. Alaric still hadn’t moved, hadn’t said a word, and it only fueled my frustration. “You’re impossible,” I muttered. “You cold, detached, impossible man.”

Gripping the edge of the counter for support, I looked up at him again and frowned upon taking in the hard set to his mouth.

“You never smile, you know that? Not once. It’s like you’ve got this permanent scowl etched into your face. It’s exhausting, honestly. Do you even know how to smile? Or did your mother scare that out of you too?”

Still nothing. Just those dark, piercing eyes blinking at me, watching, waiting.

“Fine,” I said, stepping closer again. “If you won’t do it yourself, I’ll fix it for you.” Reaching up, I grabbed his face with both hands and tugged at the corners of his mouth, forcing him into a rather puppetlike smile. “See? Like this. Smile, Alaric. It’s not that hard.”

“That’s better,” I said, stepping back and giving him an approving nod. “You should thank me. I’m improving your image.”

Giggling under my breath, I turned and climbed back onto the counter, reaching for the wine bottle. I poured myself a fresh glass, the red liquid swirling in the dim kitchen light.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” I said as I stared at my drink, not bothering to look at him this time. “You’ve got five months left with me, and instead of making things easier, you keep dragging me deeper and deeper.”

I took a sip, the bitterness grounding me for a moment. But it also made me even more bold, and before I could stop myself, the words were slipping out.

“You’re playing with my emotions, Alaric. It’s cruel. I know this isn’t real, but you make it feel real, and I hate you for it.” My voice wavered on the last word, and I quickly took another sip to steady myself.

When he still didn’t respond, I sighed and shook my head. “You’re impossible,” I repeated, more to myself than to him. “And yet… I wish it were real. All of it. But it’s not. I need to wake up from this dream.”

The words hung in the air between us, heavy and raw. I stared down and twisted the ring on my finger, unable to meet his gaze, mostly because I knew that he was just staring at me still.

My head was swimming now, the wine taking full effect. But despite the haze, I couldn’t shake the weight of his presence, the way he was looming so close without saying a word.

I wanted to do something that I might regret.

Without thinking twice, I set the glass down and reached for him again. My hands cupped his face, the stubble on his jaw rough against my palms. I leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek, then another, and another.

“You’re infuriating,” I whispered between kisses, the words a slur. “But I can’t help it. I…”

Of course, there was no response. If this was real and not a hallucination or a wine-induced dream, then he was playing an awfully mean prank on me. But even when I looped my arms around him and buried my face in the crook between his neck and shoulder, pressing warm, sloppy kisses to the buttery skin there, he remained as stoic as ever.

“You drive me mad, Alaric Donovan,” I slurred, hiccupping into his neck. “One second you’re giving me rings, and the next…”

The dizziness from far too much wine suddenly hit me all at once, cutting off whatever I was about to say. The room began to spin around me, and my eyelids grew heavy. Just before everything went dark, I thought I saw it—the faintest hint of a smile on Alaric’s lips.

Then the world tilted completely, and I felt myself fall into strong arms before everything faded to black.