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The woman’s lips twitch up at the edges. “Good will might be a slight exaggeration.”
“Right.” I wrinkle my nose. “Maybe he’ll like me better when I don’t have river slime in my hair?”
Her lips twitch again. “Maybe.”
“You don’t sound very optimistic.”
“I’m not,” she says, opening a plain white door on the right side of the hall and motioning me inside ahead of her.
“Why not?” I ask, trying not to feel deflated. I can’t afford to lose hope yet, not when it’s one of the only things I have left.
“Our Alpha’s a busy man. He doesn’t waste his time ‘liking’ anyone. There’s no need to take it personally.” She nods toward the door again. “Go on, in with you.”
I step into what looks like the entry to a spa. There’s a rock façade with water burbling down it against the far wall behind a semi-circular partition. A woman with silky black hair wearing orange scrubs types on a keyboard I can’t see behind the counter.
As we enter, she looks up from her screen, curiosity replacing the boredom on her face.
“Hey there, Hermione,” she says with a smile. “How can I help you?”
So, the Nordic princess’s name is Hermione. It fits her, I think. She’s more militant and reserved than the bookish, buoyant Harry Potter character, but she’s clearly smart. And kind, too. I could feel the compassion in her the moment I explained who I was and how I’d ended up in the river.
“Dara, this is Willow,” Hermione says. “She’ll be staying with us for a while. She came through the East River portal. She has no other clothes or personal supplies. Can you get her washed up and set for the night?”
Dara circles around the counter, her smile widening. “Of course, I can. It will be my pleasure.” She extends a hand. I take it, and she presses my palm warmly between both of hers. “You’re safe now, honey. No one’s getting at you while you’re inside these walls. North Star tower is a fortress.”
“Thank you,” I say, shocked to find tears rising in my eyes. She’s just so nice, and despite my brave face at Maxim’s door, I’ve been scared to death.
To feel safe—even if it’s just for the night—will be so nice.
“Of course, of course,” she says, patting my back. She motions through the double doors to the left of the counter. “Just head back there to the locker rooms. Take any locker with a key in it. You’ll find towels, sandals, and a robe in there. After that, you can hit the showers. We have shampoo, conditioner, and soap available in the dispensers, as well as razors and anything else you need. I’ll find you a toothbrush and some pajamas and be in to check on you in half an hour or so. Is that okay?”
I nod, my throat still tight as I say, “That’s perfect. Thank you so much.” I glance back at Hermione. “And thank you, too.”
She tips her head. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Maxim wants me to debrief you on everything that happened at the Blood River mate claiming ceremony tonight, but that can wait until you’re washed, fed, and rested.”
“Thank you,” I say again, before turning and heading through the doors, my thoughts already racing.
I’m a terrible liar, but I’m going to have to color the truth a little.
If I tell Hermione that the reason Pax started hitting me tonight was because he couldn’t get hard enough to take what he wanted from me, my pregnancy story is going to swirl away, right down the drain.
I shudder at the memory. I swear, I can still smell Pax’s scent on me, even after my dunking in the river.
A shower sounds so damned good.
I’m about to head to the lockers, when the soft murmuring of lowered voices reaches my ears.
I hesitate. I’m not usually the kind to eavesdrop, but I’m technically in enemy territory, even if most of the North Star pack members have been kind so far. I would be smart to gather as much intelligence about my situation as possible, even if I have to get some of it on the sly.
Holding my breath, I tiptoe back toward the door and lean in until my ear is inches from the smooth wood and Hermione and Dara’s lowered voices are loud enough to decipher their words.
“You’re kidding,” Dara whispers, sounding scandalized. “He wants her in the consort’s wing? I didn’t think he ever let women sleep over, not even in his bed, let alone over there.”
“She won’t be sleeping over, she’ll be under observation,” Hermione says. “Maxim doesn’t trust her.”
Dara snorts in response. “He doesn’t trust anyone. That’s why he’s the best Alpha ever.”
I wrinkle my nose again, deciding maybe I don’t like Dara quite as much as I thought. She seems nice, but she’s clearly brainwashed if she thinks that man is the best anything ever. Except maybe the best at filling out a pair of suit pants.
