Ep. 5

Harper’s [POV]

I wake up screaming.

It’s nothing new, but it startles Wilson, who flies off me and scampers into the bathroom.

For a moment, I forget where I am, then the memories come flooding back.

The fight. The drive. TheInn.

And that creepy Alpha.

“Oh, god,” I croak, putting my hand on my forehead.

Did anyone hear me?

Fuck, I hope not.

The Alpha and receptionist already think I’m strange. They don’t need to hear my night terrors.

It’s happened almost every night that I can remember.

The terrifying loneliness with an inherent panic that something is very wrong.

I wake up gasping, my hands clenched into fists.

And every time he would be there, soothing away my tears.

Telling me it’s just a dream.

But now I’m free of him and left to face my demons.

He told me they started since the accident—that I had never had them before.

But now, I don’t know what to believe.

I glance at the antique clock on the nightstand.

8 AM.

I have another hour before breakfast.

Part of me wants to stay in my room under the covers, just in case I run into that Alpha again, but I know I shouldn’t.

Using all my willpower, I kick off the covers and make my way to the bathroom. Wilson sits on the dark marble counter, blinking up at me expectantly.

“Shouldn’t someone be looking for you?” I ask him. “Don’t you want breakfast?”

“Mrow.”

Unfortunately, I don’t speak cat.

He continues to stare at me as I ready for the morning. I dress in a navy blue blouse and dark fitted jeans and pull my hair back in a low ponytail. Using makeup, I cover my scar so only a faint pink line peeks through.

It’s still noticeable, and I hate it.

Insecurity spikes in my gut, and I wonder how many people are staying here this week.

Will they stare at me as they did last night?

I don’t know if I can bear it on top of my already turbulent emotions.

Stepping out of the bathroom, I make my way toward the reading nook, pulling open the heavy curtains.

Light floods the room, and I take in the garden, illuminated by the morning light.

Oh, my God.

Two people are talking on the stone path, but I hardly pay them any attention.

The flowers seem to go on forever, with light pink and lilacs blending with the lush greenery. The gazebo is made of intricately carved dark wood, and the stone path leads into the dark trees.

My eyes are wide with wonder until tears of gratitude cloud my vision.

This place is mine for the next week.

After breakfast, I can’t wait to see how big the garden is.

I’m lost in thought, until I glance back at the men that stand at the front of the path, both of them staring at me.

I freeze.

My breath hitches and tingles race up my spine.

Alphas.

I was too busy admiring the view to even notice them, but now they’re impossible to ignore.

The taller one is dressed in a dark blue tailored suit, and he looks at me with an iciness that penetrates my chest. He’s just as handsome as the blonde one from last night, with dark brown hair and a thick five o’clock shadow. But he looks at me with cold fury, with a look that screams you don’t belong here.

I can’t hold his gaze for long. Instead, I turn to the clean-shaven smiling chestnut-haired Alpha dressed in a sweatshirt and dark jeans. He gives me a wave, while the other Alpha shoots daggers at him.

He waved.

Dumbfounded, I close the curtains.

Everyone here is strange.

Except for Wilson, who paws at the door, wanting to be let out.

I slip on my shoes and he dashes out once I unlock the door.

He waits for me at the end of the hallway, and I follow him as he leads me down to breakfast.

I take my time on the flights of stairs, admiring the inn and all of its furnishings.

If I could design a house, it would look exactly like this, right down to the antique end tables.

The first floor is quiet as I enter the living room and I wonder where to go.

Based on all the reviews I’ve read, the food here should be phenomenal. They have an on-site cook in the mornings, and they use local ingredients as much as they can.

He has always been strange about my eating habits. He has to be there when I eat a meal, and he always insists I take me. Ohshit.

My meds.

I forgot my meds.

Oh shit oh shit oh shit!

How long can I go without them?

How could I forget them?

They were in the medicine cabinet of the bathroom. In my hurry, I only grabbed my toothbrush and deodorant off the counter.

Damn it!

There should be a pharmacy in town, though.

The migraines haven’t started yet, so that’s good. I should be fine.

Besides, a little headache is a small price to pay if it means I’m away from him.

“Harper?”

The receptionist from last night enters the room, her dark brown hair pulled into a bun. The bewildered expression is gone from her face and, instead, her brown eyes are gentle and warm. Dressed in a pencil skirt and white blouse, she’s welcoming and professional.

“Good morning,” she says before I can reply. “I need to apologize to you about last night.” She takes another step closer, and I catch a nametag on her blazer.

Charlotte.

I shrug. “It’s fine,” I insist.

“No, it was not.” She leaves me no room to argue. “Your reservation wasn’t in our system and we rarely have visitors during this time of year. And you arrived so late, I was concerned.”

I nod. Sincerity is clear on her face and I relax in her presence. “I appreciate it. Truly.”

“And James—well, James was being James.” She makes an exasperated face and shakes her head.

James.

That’s the blonde Alpha’s name.

“Is he always that strange?” I ask softly, and Charlotte laughs. A matching grin spreads across my face at her delight.

“He always has been, since I’ve known him. Don’t let him bother you too much.”

I shake my head. “I won’t.”

“We’re excited to have you here,” she continues. “No one has stayed in the Princess Suite for so long.”

I recall the pet name James used last night.

So that’s where it came from.

“Why not?” I ask. “It’s stunning.”

A shadow crosses her features, and I wonder what I’ve said wrong. But just as soon as it appears, it's replaced by another genuine smile.

“No one books it. Can’t say why.”

Oh, God.

It must be haunted.

But before I can ruminate on that, she changes the subject. “If you need anything while you’re here, please let me know. I can recommend some places around town that are popular with tourists.”

That reminds me…

“Where’s the nearest pharmacy?” I ask.

Her brow furrows. “Down the road. You can drive there, or we can request a driver for you. Is everything alright?”

She sounds genuinely concerned, so I decided to be honest with her. “I have chronic headaches. If I don’t have medicine, it can get pretty bad.”

“Oh.” The bewildered expression is back, and she’s looking at me like she did last night. “I’m sorry.”

The atmosphere in the room turns tense, and I shift uncomfortably. “Yeah. I hit my head badly and since then, I’ve had nothing but headaches.”

“That’s awful. I’m very sorry, Harper.” Her tone is low and mournful, with an overwhelming amount of sympathy in her kind eyes.

It warms my heart.

“That’s very kind of you, but it’s just headaches,” I assure her. “It could be worse.”

She purses her lips but says nothing.

“Where exactly do I go for breakfast?” I ask after a moment of silence.

“Oh!” she exclaims, then places her hand on her forehead, smiling. “So sorry. Of course. I’ll show you to the dining room. Follow me.”

We head past the living room, turn a corner, and my breath catches.

The dining room is stunning.

“You’re the only guest here at the moment,” Charlotte adds as I gape at my surroundings. “Usually, the place is more lively. I apologize.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” I whisper, my eyes widening at the crystal chandelier that hangs above the massive dark wood dining table. The top of the table is engraved with an intricate braided gold design that contrasts the wood, and the backs of the deep mahogany chairs match the pattern.

“This can’t be real,” I murmur, my gaze turning towards the white French windows, the woods in the distance. “Who designed all this?”

“The house was custom built,” Charlotte says, a hint of a smile ghosting her lips. “By the owners. Everything that you see, even the tiniest detail, was hand-picked by them.”

I startle. “By James?” I ask, amazed that a broody, crazed man could have such an impeccable eye.

“There are four owners,” Charlotte continues. “James was here last night, and Beau and Grey were here this mornings.”

“Oh.”