By the time my purchases arrive, the sun is already setting, and I’m starving. The dress fits me perfectly: a deep red blouse with just enough cleavage to make it sexy, above a dark pencil skirt that hugs my thighs.
I do my hair with my fingers and leave it loose. After lining my eyes with dark pencil, I paint my mouth the same red I wore the night Lucas first kissed me. I don’t allow myself to feel the ache that is a persistent throb within me. I don’t let my wolf whimper.
I glance into the mirror one more time.
I look expensive and unbothered. I look like a woman who has never cried in a bathroom in her life.
When I leave the hotel, I take a taxi to a small shop on the main street, where I make one small purchase.
And then, I go to a bar.
The cab pulls upand comes to a stop. I pay the driver before getting out. As he speeds away, I stand at the bottom of the path, my high heels hooked around one finger and strung over my shoulder. I look up at the looming estate house.
It’s the crack of dawn, pink light spilling over the hills and mist curling through the lower fields. The air is cold on my exposed arms, but I don’t bother putting on my jacket. I don’t really feel the chill.
I don’t really feel anything. Just tired, in both body and soul.
Gravel crunches under my bare feet, and I ignore the pinpricks of pain. A tune I can’t name is being hummed under my breath. It’s been going on for a while.
I remember seeing myself in a floor-to-ceiling mirror at the club right before I left, so I know what I look like coming back to Silvercrest right now. The hem of my dress sits at mid-thigh, the top still fitted but with a button that has come undone during the night. My hair is loose and a little wild from a man’s hand in it at some point. My eyeliner has softened into a smoky look I could never achieve deliberately. There’s a stain of red at the corner of my mouth where the lipstick hasn’t worn off and a smear of somebody’s cologne at the side of my throat where a man leaned in too close to say something stupid. I smell like a bar and a long night and a woman who was not alone.
As I reach the main house, the wind shifts direction, and I catch a familiar scent in the air. My head lifts, and I see him.
Lucas is standing on the top step with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders set, watching me. My stomach flips for one terrible, vicious second.
My hand tightens around my purse, but my feet don’t stop. I keep walking.
He watches me come up the path. His jaw is tense; I can see it from thirty feet away. His eyes track from my bare feet to the hem of the skirt to the open button at my chest to the smudged lipstick on my mouth.
Didn’t think your fated mate could do something so wild, did you, Alpha Steele? I sneer inwardly. Did you expect me to be curled into a ball in my room, sobbing?
I walk past him without so much as a greeting.
“Where have you been?”
His voice is harsh from behind me, tight as a bowstring, and I pause on the steps. I stop humming.
I look over my shoulder and shrug. “Out.”
His jaw clenches. “Out where?”
I face him fully without replying.
He takes a step closer, but I don’t move back. His nostrils flare and his eyes change from brown to almost gold, his wolf rising behind them.
“You smell like alcohol.” His voice drops an octave. “And men.”
I raise a brow. “And?”
His eyes narrow. “And?”
I smile softly. “Did I break a rule, Alpha Steele? Since when do I have a curfew?”
“Sienna.”
“I was not aware that my social life fell under the jurisdiction of this pack, Alpha Steele.”
“Who were you with?”
