Chapter 57

Elara

Alaric’s arm tightened instinctively around my waist, his hand pressing firm against the small of my back. I stared up at him, my breath caught somewhere between my lungs and throat. I couldn’t tell if the thudding pulse in my ears was his or mine, the bond flaring unexpectedly between us after weeks of silence.

We were too close—closer than we had been in what felt like ages. His body was flush against mine, broad and warm, and yet all I could think about was the blank, distant look in his eyes just moments ago.

He wasn’t just sitting at his desk. He had been somewhere else entirely, like a shell of himself.

“Alaric,” I whispered, watching the faint flicker of awareness bleed back into his gaze. “What was that? You looked…”

Like a zombie. Like he wasn’t even in his own skin.

His hold on me slackened as the realization suddenly seemed to dawn on him. “I was sleepwalking,” he muttered, stepping back as if the sudden proximity between our bodies had only just registered to his brain.

I blinked, still trying to process the sight of him like that. “You sleepwalk?”

Nodding, he crouched and began to gather the scattered pieces of the sandwich from the floor. “Sometimes. It’s rare, but it happens. It’s usually not this bad, but… I guess it’s been worse lately.”

I knelt down beside him and helped pick up the overturned cup, using a nearby cloth to dab at the remnants of the tea puddle on the carpet. “I didn’t know that,” I said softly.

He didn’t look at me. “It wasn’t really pertinent to our arrangement.”

The words sat heavy between us, unsaid things lingering in the air like static before a storm. Arrangement. As if everything between us wasn’t so much more complicated than that. I clenched my jaw bitterly, though, deciding it was best not to get into it.

But as I tossed a handful of crumbs into the trash, heat crept up my neck, and an unsettling thought struck me.

The night in the kitchen all those weeks ago.

Weeks ago, I had stumbled downstairs and indulged in far too much wine, and he had appeared in the doorway with that same blank expression on his face. The whole thing, the fuzziness in my head from the wine and the strange look in his eyes, had me convinced at the time that it was some kind of dream or hallucination.

I had touched him then—traced my fingers along his shoulders, kissed his neck—and he hadn’t stopped me. I’d thought that he wasn’t really there, that I had passed out on the kitchen floor from drinking too much.

But the next morning, I had woken up in my bed and discovered that it all had been real.

I really had touched him. And when I apologized and said it was a mistake, he had barely looked at me. At the time, I thought that maybe he wanted me to do those things and that calling it a mistake had hurt him somehow.

But now, it all made sense.

Oh, Goddess.

My hand froze mid-wipe, mortification flooding through me. He was sleepwalking then, too. And I…

No wonder he had avoided me like the plague that day. I had practically thrown myself at him while he was literally unconscious.

“I… think I owe you an apology, then,” I suddenly blurted out, forcing a strained laugh that sounded hollow to my own ears. “That night in the kitchen—you were sleepwalking, weren’t you?”

His movements stilled for a fraction of a second. Then, slowly, he set the sandwich plate on the desk and straightened, brushing his palms against his slacks. “I was. But you didn’t know.”

I winced. “Still, I… I feel like I crossed a line.”

Finally, his gaze met mine, and for once, his expression softened just a little. “It’s fine, Elara. Don’t worry about it. I don’t even remember most of it.”

“How… How much do you remember?” I found myself asking, bracing myself for the response.

He merely shrugged and stood, tossing the sandwich in the nearby trash can. “I just told you not to worry about it.”

But I did worry. I worried about a lot of things when it came to him—the way he shut me out, the way he never came to bed anymore, the way he seemed to cut me off from his life when things had taken a shift between us.

As I mopped up the last of the tea, my eyes wandered across his desk. There was paperwork everywhere, reports scattered in organized chaos. During the brief chaos of the tray falling, I’d almost forgotten about the Moonwolf powder.

I straightened, setting the damp towel aside. “Alaric,” I said slowly, pointing at the paperwork, “not that I’m trying to snoop or anything, but what is this?”

He glanced over his shoulder and sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “It’s part of the investigation. The powder from Mason’s baggie—the same powder that was on the earring. Turns out it’s a powder made from Moonwolf blood.”

I frowned, thoroughly confused. “Moonwolves have been extinct for decades,” I laughed in disbelief. “How could their blood still exist?”

“I don’t know.” He leaned against the edge of his desk, his arms crossed over his chest. “But Mason and Emily’s families are linked to an underground network. Drug manufacturing, trafficking, maybe even Moonwolf hunting. There’s more happening beneath the surface than we thought.”

I stared at the folder, my mind racing. “If you need help with Mason, I could talk to him. I know him better than anyone.”

“Thanks, but that’s not necessary.”

The dismissal was so curt, so cold, that it took me a second to realize he wasn’t even looking at me anymore.

My fists clenched at my sides. “What’s your problem with me lately? I thought we were allies at the very least.”

He set his pen down slowly, and when he looked at me, there was something raw and sharp in his eyes. “Maybe I’m hesitant to let you in on the investigation because you’ve fallen for that scumbag, Asher. Or did you forget he might have had a hand in my late wife’s death?”

His words hit harder than I expected, knocking the air right out of my lungs. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said coldly. “I heard about you two meeting up at a strip club. I saw the pictures of your arms around him. Whatever is going on between you two, that’s your business. But I can’t trust you now.”

Anger boiled beneath my skin. “That’s ridiculous. I went to Asher because I was trying to help you. He offered to help with your business problems. I thought that would mean something to you, that maybe… Maybe you two could work out your problems.”

His jaw tightened. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Well, I did. And I’d do it again. I don’t think that Asher is the enemy.”

“He’s using you.”

“And you’re using me too, aren’t you?” I shot back. “Or did you forget that this whole thing started because you wanted to take my daughter away?”

Before he could answer, soft footsteps padded into the doorway. I whirled, my eyes widening, to see the girls standing there in their pajamas, their stuffed teddy bears clutched in their arms.

Zoe, her eyes shimmering with fresh tears, dropped her bear and rushed forward. She threw her arms around my legs and held on tight.

“Please don’t fight!” she pleaded. “Smile, Mommy! Smile, Daddy! Please!”