Chapter 5: The morning after

Isla POV

I woke in his bed, but I did not remember moving from the wall to the mattress at all.

I did not remember him coming into the room again or picking me up to the bed, but I woke in his sheets with his pillow beneath my cheek and his unique scent of pine and smoke surrounding me.

Mateo was long gone, as the sheets on his supposed side of the bed looked cold and untouched.

I lay there for a long moment, and I tried to remember. Had he come back? Had he carried me? or Had he watched me sleep?

"Do not think about it," I told myself. "Do not feel it."

I pushed the sheets away and sat up. The memory of his hands and his mouth and his voice was still in my head, so I wrapped myself in coldness and distance, and in the armor that I had worn for twelve years.

I sat up, and I saw that the sun was high in the sky. I had slept longer than I meant to, and my body was still sore from where he had held me against the wall last night.

A servant appeared at the door of the Alpha suite.

"The Lady Elena requests your presence at breakfast," she said, and her voice was flat.

I nodded, changed out of my dress into a new one that was layed on the bedside table, and I washed my face. I walked to the east wing with my spine straight and my face blank, and I did not let myself think about what had happened the night before.

The dining room was small and intimate. it was set up in a way that anyone who walked in would know without been told that it was meant for family. Elena sat at the head of the table, and she was alone. She looked up when I entered, and she smiled. Her smile was soft and warm and of course fake.

"Isla," she said. "Come and sit. We have so much to discuss."

The table was set for two, and there were silver dishes and crystal glasses. There were flowers that must have cost more than I made in a year. I sat down, but I did not touch the food.

"You must be hungry," Elena said. "You did not eat last night."

"I am not hungry," I said.

She buttered a roll with delicate precision, and she did not look at me.

"Consuela tells me that you have been asking about the curse," she said.

"I was only curious." I replied.

"Curiosity killed the wolf, my dear." She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. "Your mother was curious too. She was curious about things that were not her business, and she was curious about things that were better left buried."

I did not react to her words. I had learned how to keep my face still when my heart was racing, and I had learned it over twelve years of hiding.

"She was a good wolf," Elena continued, "but she was fragile. The power in her blood was too much for her. It made her see things that were not there, and it made her hear things that were not said."

She looked at me then, and her eyes were hard.

"You should be careful, Isla. You do not want to make the same mistakes that she did."

I held her gaze, and I did not look away. "What mistakes did she make?" I asked.

Elena's smile did not waver. "She trusted the wrong wolf."

"And which wolf was that?" I pressed.

"The one who killed her," Elena said, and she took a delicate sip of her tea.

"Say it," I told myself. "Tell her what you really think."

But I pushed the thoughts down, and I did not say it. I just clenched my hands under the table, and I kept my face still. I straightened up softly, and gave a weak smile.

"I am not my mother," I said.

Elena smile again and it was the same evil smile that did not reach her eyes. "No," she replied. "You are not."

Without touching any of the food or drinks, because I did not trust Elena, I left the dinning room.

I found Mateo in the corridor after breakfast.

He was cold and distant, and he looked at me like the night before had never happened. He looked at me like he had not touched me or tasted me, and he looked at me like he had not left me aching and unsatisfied against the wall.

"My mother," he said, "is not to be trusted."

"I gathered that," I replied.

He looked at me then, and for a moment, I saw something behind his eyes. It might have been a warning, or it might have been fear.

"She has already tried to poison two of my previous potential Lunas," he continued. "One ran, and one is buried in the family cemetery. They say that she fell down stairs."

I crossed my arms, and I stepped closer to him.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked.

He was silent for a long moment, and then he said, "Because you are not like them."

Before I could ask what that meant, he turned and walked away.

"Why me?" I called after him.

He stopped, but he did not turn.

"Why did you choose me?" I asked again.

For a moment, I thought that he would not answer. Then he looked back, and his eyes were not cold. They carried something else, and it was something that I did not have a name for.

"Because you are the only one who can save me," he said finally and turned away.

"Save you from what?" I called after him.

He did not stop walking. "From myself," he said.

He walked away before I could ask what he meant.

I stood in the hallway alone, and I felt the bond pulsing in my chest. It was warm and insistent and terrible.

I did not want to save him, and I did not want to be his cure.

"Hope," my wolf whispered. "Do not."

But it was already too late.