Chapter 9 - Liz

Since I”ve spent my life on my own, I”ve never had an alpha before. The way Leah tells it, I have nothing to worry about when it comes to meeting Ram, but I can”t help the nerves bubbling up inside me. It”s not that I”m scared of him—quite the opposite, in fact. I”m curious about what sort of person can command such respect and loyalty. I couldn”t imagine trying to lead so many. I”d crumble under the responsibility.

No, my anxiety has more to do with the fact that I”m not exactly comfortable in groups. The few times I”ve interacted with large numbers of people usually don”t end well. Of course, I suppose there”s also the likelihood of being met with hostility. After all, I”m a stranger to these people. Why would they trust me, let alone welcome me into their pack?

With Fisher leading the way, we climb out of his truck and up onto the porch of the alpha”s house. It”s larger than the others and sits nestled amid the trees, the lush greenery giving the building an air of importance. My gaze flits around, taking in the majesty of the place, the warmth it exudes. This is a home.

Steeling myself, I follow Fisher into the alpha”s home. He doesn”t knock, so I assume they must be close based on the way he just lets himself in like he belongs here. Inside, the atmosphere is far more casual than I expected. The TV is playing a football game, the voices of the commentators mixing with the sounds of the crowd as they cheer for their favorite team. From where I stand in the entryway, I can see a small kitchen and a cozy living room.

”Be out in a minute,” a booming voice calls from an unseen room down the hall.

Fisher steps inside, motioning for me to follow, but he hesitates when he catches me scanning the room warily. His voice is low and reassuring as he inclines his head towards the empty couch, inviting me to sit. ”Don”t worry. Ram”s a good guy, he”s not gonna hurt you.”

From the adjacent room emerges a mountain of a man with shoulders as wide as a barn door. To the untrained eye, he would appear to be nothing more than an intimidating giant with muscles for brains. But if you looked closer, you”d see the sharp mind hidden behind warm eyes and a kind smile.

I”m not oblivious to the power this alpha exudes. The sheer energy radiating from him would be overpowering if not for his welcoming presence. As he walks toward us, his eyes lock onto mine, instantly locking me in his gravitational pull. I have a fleeting, wild thought of bowing to him, of submitting, of announcing my undying fealty. To him, to Fisher, to this whole goddamn pack.

”Fisher.” His deep, rumbling greeting pulls me from my musings. The tone of his voice is strangely neutral, giving away neither hostility nor friendliness. ”And who is this with you?”

”This is Liz,” Fisher starts. ”She”s my wife.”

Ram”s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and the room seems to grow quieter. He stares at me with a measuring expression, as if assessing my worth. I hold his gaze and allow his stare to search my soul, for we both know the importance of not appearing weak in front of your leader. At least, that”s what I”ve always been told.

”Your wife?” Ram repeats, disbelief evident in his voice. ”Well, this is unexpected. As far as I know, you weren”t even dating anyone the last time we saw each other, and that was just a few days ago.”

”It”s a long story, Alpha Ram,” Fisher begins, choosing his words carefully. ”We found ourselves in a situation that led us to get married. I thought it only appropriate that I introduce her to you, and to the rest of the pack.”

As Fisher speaks, I can sense Ram”s skepticism. He crosses his arms over his chest, and his eyes never leave us. ”Marriage is a sacred bond, not something to be entered into lightly,” Ram states firmly. ”What exactly happened, Fisher?”

Fisher sighs. ”We faced unforeseen circumstances, and our marriage was the simplest way for me to protect her.”

Ram”s eyes narrow further, clearly not satisfied with Fisher”s vague explanation. ”Protect her from what, precisely? And how did you two come to be in such a situation together?”

I can feel Fisher”s tension beside me when he says, ”We encountered a group of hostile shifters. They were particularly interested in Liz, so I stepped in to save her.”

I eye him out of the corner of my eye, wondering why he”s dancing around the truth.

”Then their motives weren”t entirely random,” Ram infers, turning to me. ”There’s a particular reason why they were so fixated on you. Is that correct?”

It”s obvious that Ram isn”t about to let the issue drop, so I speak up and redirect the conversation, taking the heat off Fisher. By all rights, I don”t have an opinion about this situation. ”What does it matter how it happened?” I say. “It”s done now.”

Ram studies me intently for a long moment, seeming deep in thought. Finally, his stern expression softens, and a small smile graces his features. ”It matters,” he informs. ”Your words raise more questions than they answer. But from the sounds of it, neither of you are quite ready to talk about it. I”ll give you some time. I trust that Fisher is doing the right thing, but you should know that I”ll be keeping a close eye on you, Liz. One wrong move, and there will be consequences. Are we clear?”

”Yes, sir,” I say.

”Good. Now, tell me a bit about yourself.”

Suddenly, I”m struck by the desire to earn his approval, and I wonder if that”s his inner alpha coming out. Maybe his power and influence are rubbing off on me. “There isn”t much to tell,” I begin. “Just your average girl. I”m twenty-five years old. I”ve lived on my own my entire life and have no immediate family. Not really much to my background. Just pretty boring, honestly.”

“Living on your own is quite a unique set of circumstances for a shifter,” Ram says thoughtfully. “We have a strict code of conduct here in the Stardust Hollow Pack, and when wolves aren’t properly tethered and bound, it can sometimes lead to trouble. Here, we teach pack philosophy, traditions, rules, and regulations..”

”So kind of like a government, but for lycanthropes?”

”In a manner, yes.”

I nod in understanding.

He pauses, the silence stretching as he ponders his next thought. ”Very well,” he concedes. ”Welcome to Stardust Hollow, Liz. Fisher, I expect you to guide her, and both of you to uphold the values of our pack. You have much to prove, but everyone deserves a chance to show their worth.”

Show my worth? This is why joining a pack never interested me. All that pressure to earn someone”s acceptance, so much expectation. With no small amount of discomfort, I break eye contact with Ram, staring at the wall as I fiddle with the ends of my hair.

”Absolutely,” Fisher responds to Ram, breaking me from my thoughts.

While we finish up the last of the formalities, my eyes wander around the room. There are family photos on the walls and on the end tables, pictures showing a happy home life. I feel a strange combination of envy and longing. Such domesticity is foreign to me, and yet a small part of me wonders what it might be like to be a member of such a close-knit unit.

After several minutes, Ram takes his leave, and Fisher and I get back in the truck. Once we”re seated inside the cab, I ask Fisher, ”Is he always like that?”

”Like what?”

”Intimidating.”

”Oh, yeah. He”s definitely impressive, huh?” Fisher says, starting the engine. ”But he has to be. You should see him with the alphas of other packs. Gets damn near close to clawing. Imagine the aggression needed to lead hundreds of wolves through the day. It”s a lot of responsibility.”

I can”t even imagine. ”Are there any women alphas?”

”A few, but not many. They tend to rise to the top on their own merits. Ram, along with most alphas, was born into the position.”

I hum in response as I wonder how everything works in this world. I”m learning quickly, but there”s so much I still don”t understand.

We drive in silence as Fisher steers the truck toward his house. Well, I guess it”s our house. It”s the first time I”ve been there since we stayed the night at Leah and David”s, and I”m not sure what to expect. I believe the adjective Leah used was “cozy,” but from what I”ve seen so far, Fisher doesn’t strike me as the traditional type. Then again, they only ever talked about decorating the main areas. Maybe the bedroom has better lighting.

Honestly, I have no clue what I”ll find when I walk through his front door. For all I know, we could be walking into a bachelor pad or a pit of filth.

It”s a short drive, but it feels like an eternity as my mind races, trying to process everything that just happened. Fisher keeps stealing glances my way, perhaps sensing my discomfort, but I keep my eyes focused on the passing scenery.

We pull up to a rustic, two-story house nestled amidst tall trees, its wooden fa?ade bathed in the warm hues of the setting sun. It”s a stark contrast to the bachelor pad I half-expected, and it looks oddly comforting. Fisher hops out and walks over to my side, opening the door before I can even reach for the handle.

”Home sweet home,” he says, offering a smile I can”t quite interpret. Is it genuine warmth or just a polite gesture?

Warily, I step out and begin inspecting the place. The front door is surrounded by a wraparound porch, giving the house a slightly country vibe. Several decorative chairs and a table sit off to the side, looking pristinely untouched. Surprisingly, the first thing I notice is how quaint everything looks, nothing like a standard run-of-the-mill bachelor’s pad. My original vision of this place crumbled the moment we pulled into the driveway.

The interior is a harmonious blend of rustic charm and modern comfort. Exposed wooden beams stretch across the ceiling, adding to the cozy, cabin-like atmosphere, while plush furnishings offer a touch of luxury.

To the left, a spacious living room unfolds before me, anchored by a large stone fireplace that promises warmth on chilly nights. Comfy sofas and armchairs are arranged around a coffee table, inviting relaxation and conversation. Tasteful artwork and photographs decorate the walls, giving the space a well-lived-in feeling.

The open concept of the kitchen allows natural light to filter through and dance on the clean, polished surfaces. To the right of the living room, the dining room is set up with a massive oak table meant for large gatherings. I can picture entire families spread out, feasting on holiday meals, laughing and joking together, maybe tossing food at each other. A staircase with a carved wooden banister winds its way upwards, leading to the bedrooms, no doubt.

”Not what you were expecting, huh?” Fisher”s voice interrupts my ruminations, and I snap back to attention, blinking the image of his bedroom from my mind.

”Honestly? Not exactly.”

”Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

”Good,” I reply with a nod. ”It”s much nicer than I expected. I have to admit, I thought you”d have beer cans and dirty underwear scattered around.”

”Hey, now,” Fisher protests, a look of mock offense crossing his face. ”Don”t judge a book by its cover.”

”I don”t,” I say quickly, biting my lip as a smile threatens to form.

”Feel free to make yourself at home,” he says, his voice gentle. ”If you need anything, let me know.”

As the days pass, Fisher”s efforts to make me feel comfortable in his home become increasingly apparent. Every morning, he leaves before dawn and returns late in the evening, but never fails to make it home for dinner. He tries to make conversation, asking about my day or sharing anecdotes from his. Our interactions start off awkward, filled with forced smiles and stilted exchanges.

During one such dinner, as the pair of us settle down for the meal, he says, ”How have you been finding Stardust Hollow?”

”It”s different,” I reply honestly.

”Different as in good or different as in bad?”

“Just different,” I say. “I”m not going to lie, I haven”t had the best experiences dealing with wolf packs and shifters in general.”

It”s true. There”s nothing inherently wrong with Stardust Hollow, but it just doesn”t feel like home. Then again, I haven”t found any place yet that actually does. A somber mood settles over the pair of us as we eat in silence, lost in our own thoughts.

When Fisher speaks again, his voice is hesitant and his eyes dart away as if in embarrassment. ”Sorry if I haven”t been home enough. Things are busy at the lumber yard. Not much I can do about it.”

”You don”t need to apologize,” I assure him. ”I”ve been fine here.”

Fisher stares into my eyes, searching my face for an underlying truth in my words. I”m unsure of what he expected to find, but he”s not having any luck if his expression is anything to go by. ”If you want, I can take some time off work and help you settle into the area. I”ve got a few things lined up around the house I”ve been meaning to get done.”

”That won”t be necessary,” I reply, dismissing his offer.

Another evening, as we”re clearing the dishes, he hesitates for a moment before asking, ”Do you miss your old life? Being on your own?”

I pause, considering his question. ”It had its moments,” I admit. ”But there”s something to be said for having someone to come home to.”

His eyes linger on mine a moment too long, and I feel that familiar flutter in my stomach, the one that seems to have cropped up with increasing frequency in his presence. I quickly push it aside, focusing on loading the dishwasher.

Each night, as we sit across from each other at the dinner table, I find myself becoming more at ease around him. Our conversations flow more naturally, with fewer awkward pauses. I learn that he grew up here in Stardust Hollow, always content with living in the small town, surrounded by friends and family. Despite my initial reservations, I begin to look forward to his company, to the warmth of his presence at the end of each day.

Yet, there are moments, fleeting and unexpected, when I catch him looking at me, and my body betrays me. My heart races, and my skin tingles with awareness. But I refuse to acknowledge the pull between us, to let it sway my perception of our relationship. We may be married on paper, but we hardly know each other, and I won”t risk my safety or my heart on a stranger. He”s my husband in name only, and I have to keep reminding myself of that.

No matter how natural our conversations become or how much his presence comforts me. I”ve been thrust into this unfamiliar world, and I need to navigate it on my own terms. Even if those terms keep getting harder to define.

So, I focus on the present, on the small gestures and shared moments that make our evenings together bearable. And for now, that”s enough.

One sunny afternoon, I”m out in the yard, working on my training regimen. It”s a habit I”ve taken up, something to fill my days while Fisher is working. It also gives me a way to burn off some of my restless energy, a not unwelcome distraction. I still can”t shift, and since I have no idea how long this phase is going to last, I”ve decided it”s best to maintain the best level of fitness I can while being only human.

As I go through my usual sets, I notice a figure approaching, and I realize Fisher is standing at the edge of the yard, watching me intently. I falter, uncertain how to respond, but he steps closer and smiles, an almost boyish grin that lights up his eyes.

”Need a sparring partner?”

Before I can decline, Fisher is already rolling up his sleeves, and I don”t know why I”m so relieved. Perhaps it”s because his fighting skills will finally be put to the test. Maybe it”s the new challenge ahead of me. Or maybe I just enjoy taking shots at my husband. Either way, I can”t resist baiting him.

He starts out cautious, as if gauging my movements, but soon, we fall into a seamless rhythm, our bodies in tune as our breath syncs up. I”ve heard that when two compatible wolves are mated, their fights can be considered a form of love-making.

At first, Fisher stays on the offensive, following a predictable pattern. This isn”t so much a fight as a dance, our bodies moving together like flowing water. I”m so absorbed in the sensations that I almost forget to watch for telltale signs of an attack. His footwork becomes swift and light as he weaves his way around my defenses. Suddenly, he feints and hooks a leg around my ankles, sending us both tumbling to the grass below.

We fall into one another, and I end up straddling his hips. He”s staring up at me, his breath coming out in sharp gasps, and I marvel at how striking he is, all those perfect planes of muscle covered in a thin sheen of sweat. We”re so close, and for a second, I have an overwhelming urge to press my lips against his.

”Well, damn,” he mutters.

I shove myself off him, using his chest for leverage, then stand upright, brushing the grass off my clothes. I offer him my hand, which he takes. ”Good workout,” I say.

”I could help you, you know. If we trained together, you might pick up on some things that might help you. You”re good, but there”s always room for improvement.”

I raise an eyebrow as I cock my head. I hate the fact that my heart”s picking up the pace at the idea of spending more time with him. But then I consider the implications. I don”t care to owe him anything. Sure, we seem to be getting along well, but that doesn”t mean he won”t exploit that if he wants something down the road.

”I appreciate the offer, I really do,” I reply, my tone sincere. ”And I”m sure I”ll take you up on it later. But for now, I”m okay learning this on my own.” I shrug, not leaving any room for argument.

“I can”t be here all the time, as much as I wish I could,” Fisher reminds me. “You should have every opportunity to defend yourself if those traders find you.” There”s an edge to his voice I haven”t heard before, one full of grit and resolve. “The last thing I want is for you to get hurt again,” he adds, eyes blazing.

I chew on his words for a moment, grappling with my inner turmoil. I know he”s right, that I can”t expect him to babysit me for the rest of my life, but my ego”s preventing me from admitting that out loud. I”m a grown woman, and I shouldn”t need a man to help me learn basic self-defense. Yet, part of me is relieved at the notion of having someone on my side. I feel torn in two, and I”m not sure what the right decision is anymore.

Maybe there”s a way I can accept his help while keeping my dignity intact.

”Okay,” I concede. ”But on one condition. I”ll let you train me, but I have to pay for half the costs in this arrangement.”

”Is that so?” He raises an eyebrow in amusement.

”Yes. I”m not your charity case. I”m not a burden.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. ”Far from it.”

“I don”t suppose you know any of the businesses around that are hiring?” I ask him. “Leah mentioned something about a bar that needs a waitress or something.”

”The Wolf”s Den,” he says with a nod. ”Ram owns the place. I”ll let him know you”re interested.”

”Great,” I sigh, a wave of relief washing over me. ”That would be amazing. Then I won”t feel like such a freeloader.”

”Freeloader?” he scoffs, seemingly amused.

”Let”s call it a houseguest with extra baggage,” I suggest.

I feel better now. This is all a mutually beneficial business transaction. Nothing more.