I drain the bowl, literally not caring one bit about my table manners. Another piping hot bowl is set in front of me a second later, and I scarf it down just as fast.
By the time I finish chewing the last noodle, I’m more full than I can ever remember being.
Brekker’s watching me with a satisfied smile, his own bowl of soup empty.
“Better?” he asks, arching one eyebrow.
“It was so good, I could eat twelve more servings. But if I do, I think I’ll explode.”
“We can’t have that,” he says seriously, a hint of a grin crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Are you ready to try to talk to your friend?”
I nod fervently. “Thank you,” I call out to the woman who brought me the soup as Brekker leads me from the huge kitchen. “It was the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”
She grins at me, waving me off with a laugh, and a little bubble of happiness fills me.
I could get used to this.
A husband who wants to take care of me.
Fresh food, fresh air, and a beautiful place to live.
I think maybe I lucked out in the Starlight Lottery after all.
CHAPTER 11
AILEEN
The comms pad, state of the art, just as Bridget promised me, rings and rings and rings.
There’s no answer.
“You’re sure that’s the contact information the Starlight Lottery woman gave you?” Brekker asks, his brow furrowed in worry.
“I’m sure,” I tell him. “I checked it five times.” I frown at the code on the screen. “Do you recognize the outbound signal? I’m not a pro at this by any means, but I know most of the major codes for civilizations and planets around the station I grew up in.”
“I don’t recognize it,” he agrees.
That just makes me feel worse.
I slump in the chair, and Brekker kneels next to me, frowning as he taps several entries into the comms pad.
“It’s not one I’m familiar with, but that doesn’t mean much, since I deal mostly with on-planet issues.” He rubs a hand over my back, the silk rasping at his touch. “She’s going to be okay. We will find her. The Starlight Lottery wouldn’t have let anything bad happen to her, right?”
I nod, taking heart in his observations. “I don’t think they would. They had stipulations in our contract—” I bite my lip, my gaze heating as I slowly look up at him, remembering.
Remembering that he wanted to discuss an even more in-depth contract.
For sex.
With him.
My focus goes totally to Brekker.
“What did you want to put in our contract?” I ask softly, regarding him with a tilted head. “The one you were talking about—”
He scoops me up with a hoarse laugh, and I squeal as he holds me to his chest.
His lips brush against the tip of my nose. It’s sweet and gentle, and it melts me.
“We don’t need a contract. I’m going to let you lead me where you want to go, and if it takes the rest of our lives to fulfill all my fantasies with you, then it will have been time well spent.”
“Oh,” I say on an exhalation, my eyes wide. “What if I don’t want it to take the rest of our lives?”
“Fuck,” he snarls, and with that, the room blurs by, a door flying open as he runs.
“That was fast,” I say, then laugh as he drops me onto a silken coverlet, the plush bed underneath bouncing with my weight.
“We can go as fast or as slow as you want, Aileen. You tell me what you want.” His dark eyes devour me.
A girl could get used to this kind of thing.
“Kiss me,” I whisper, and that’s all I have to say to make his lips cover mine.
The sharp edges of his fangs graze over my mouth, and I moan at the sensation. His hands are everywhere, leaving heat trailing in their wake, but not enough.
I didn’t even know what I was missing, not really.
He pulls away from me, and I’m vindicated to see he’s breathing as hard as I am, his pupils huge and black.
“What do you know about werewolves?” he asks, propping himself up on one arm beside me. The bed’s soft enough that I roll toward his heavier body.
I don’t mind, though. His hard, muscled chest feels scrumptious where I’m squished against him, and the nerves that troubled me the last few days on the Starlight Hub have completely fled in his presence.
“I know I like you,” I tell him. My sincerity makes me feel foolish, until a smile breaks across his face. “It’s silly, right?” I ask, frowning up at his handsome face.
“No—”
“I mean, we just met, and I already…” I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I already like you. A lot.”
“We are husband and wife. It’s not silly. It is right.”
I snort. “That’s a very arrogant assumption.”
“If it’s true, why is it arrogant?” He peppers kisses across the apples of my cheeks, the bridge of my nose, his fingers tickling along my ribs and making me squeal with laughter.
“Do you believe in fate?” he asks, his fingers stilling along my skin, his hands braced around me, one on my waist, the other cupping my head with familiar tenderness.
“Fate?” I repeat, my lips twisting to the side. I let my gaze slide away from his, considering his words.
This room, like the rest in this lodge, lands somewhere at the intersection of sumptuous and elegant, lived-in and ostentatious. It’s gorgeous and rich-looking without being overwhelming.
The same wood carvings etch across every door and doorway, full of strange otherworldly creatures caught between man and beast.
“The Wulfric believe in fate. Very much so. We believe that the doors of every room, of every house, have the potential to change our fate and that walking through them is an act of trust in the forces that guide the universe.”
I consider his words.
“We trust fate to guide us through the change between forms, in and out of our skins. Change is part of the Wulfric experience. It’s essential, and if it weren’t for our belief in fate, in the guiding hand of some greater… force, then we would be reduced to animals.”
“You have to believe there is a reason.” I sum up. A pang goes through me. “Does it hurt?”
“The change?” he asks, not pretending to not understand what I’m asking.
“Is that rude to ask? I don’t know.” I cringe, my nose wrinkling at the idea that I’ve just fucked up and crossed some line I didn’t even know existed.
Note to self: don’t ask werewolves about what it feels like to shift.
“It hurts,” he says quickly. His chest expands as he inhales deeply, apparently contemplating the question. “It helps to hang on to the idea that there is a reason for it. It helps to think there is something greater out there, something that is causing it to happen. Not just that it’s biological or chemical or whatever other reason they throw out there for it.”
“So you believe in… like a god?” I ask, too curious to stem the flood of my questions. “You can tell me to shut up if this is too much. I’m not religious. I know lots of the other species on my station were, but that was never my thing.”
“Not exactly.” He shifts, rolling me on top of him.
I huff a laugh, sitting upright so I can still see his face.
“Fate. Fate, I believe in. That there is a force beyond our knowing, steering us for its own purposes. Maybe it’s foolish to think that.” His big hand reaches up, tucking an errant curl behind my ear. It lingers there, on the side of my jaw, then traces over my collarbone.