“I got her.” Misty shook her head at his retreating form. “Come on, blushing bride; let’s get you ready for your cake-cutting photo-op.”
I allowed her to lead me inside and through the tangle of dancing, drinking bodies. Even in my current zombie-like state I knew that it was important for me to learn about the so-called magic and wards that Valamir had mentioned. But asking one of my werewolf companions was out of the question.
Maybe it was time I trusted Alciun with my secret.
***
Chapter 20
Waking up in Zane’s bed didn’t seem as strange as I’d expected. I’d already spent one memorable night in his lackluster apartment, but not as his new bride.
That first night we’d had some pretty intense kissing action before our supernatural encounter with Detective Davis and her hybrid flunkies. This time, as promised, he’d kept his hands to himself leaving me huddled on the bed’s right side (far right, I might add) fighting for my share of the blankets.
Summer on the Oregon Coast was unpredictable, making it top priority that I figure out some way to stay warm during the long nighttime hours. I wanted to curl up in his arms. However, we hadn’t stopped long enough for me to come to terms with the fact I was married to a werewolf. It all happened so fast. I needed to catch my breath and think.
At last night’s reception, we’d managed to complete the cake cutting ceremony with no additional drama. Our intoxicated guests hadn’t seemed at all bothered by our early departure. After all, we were newlyweds, supposedly madly in love.
If they knew how I’d spent my second night as a new bride debating whether or not to kill my husband — or seduce him — they might have questioned our rush to escape the festivities.
In reality, it was jealously not love that drove us out the doors before midnight.
Zane had grown impatient with all the male attention I was receiving. It seemed the longer the liquor flowed, the bolder the men became. Zane had no sense of humor when it came to me being ogled by other males. I guessed it was a wolf thing, because I’d never known a man to be so territorial. On some level, his possessive behavior scared me, yet at the same time made me feel valued, even cherished. As long as he didn’t start lifting his leg to mark his territory, we’d manage.
His actions would always illicit conflicting emotions, but boredom wasn’t something I’d ever have to worry about.
“Coffee?” he called from the kitchenette.
I was surprised to hear him already banging around in his kitchen. It was 8:00 AM on Saturday. We were off work for the weekend, and, as far as I knew, we had no major plans until Monday’s board meeting.
Thankful to be wearing sweats in the morning chill, I padded as noiselessly into the kitchen as I could. I wanted to see him at work doing something other than beating up bad guys or bad dogs.
“Trying to sneak up on me, weren’t you?” He leaned against the kitchen’s sole counter, arms crossed.
“Supersonic hearing, how could I forget? Just curious what you’re doing in here.”
His lip twitched in a way that I was beginning to recognize as Zane’s method of “smile control.” Looking overly happy wasn’t in his nature.
“You were sneaking, hoping to catch me doing something domestic,” he teased.
“No comment? Since when is Princess Chloe so quiet? I was expecting a sarcastic comeback.” He turned to stir something on the two-burner stove.
A whiff of sure-to-be tasty spices sent my stomach into a fit of growls and gurgles.
“My mate is hungry. I hope you like biscuits and gravy made from scratch.”
I nodded.
His cooking expertise was a very pleasant and unexpected surprise. If the women at last night’s party had known about this particular trait, they’d probably have plotted something unthinkable and very illegal, to get me out of the picture for good. A gorgeous, masculine man who cooks; that was a lethal combination any woman would appreciate and admire.
“I admit; I’m impressed.”
Zane grinned. His pleasure at my words was undeniable, causing me to draw in a quick breath. Goodness! A simple smile and I was left breathless. I needed to find a way to control my betraying emotions. I’d committed to making this marriage miserable for him, not a relationship full of compliments and early morning cheer.