We Need More Whiskey for This

Clara’s POV

After nearly inhaling our delicious spread, Nolan looked at me seriously, but with a smirk and said, “Shall we start tackling that mental checklist of things to discuss?” 

I looked at him for a long while and slowly raised my whiskey glass to my lips, finishing the entire drink in a few moments. “We are certainly going to need more of this” I said as I held out my now empty glass. He smirks and grabs my glass, slowly walking back towards the bar to refill our glasses. He finishes his drink as he walks, tipping it back in one swift gulp. As he rises, I catch his scent, fresh pine and lilacs.. It reminds me of home.. he is home now, whether I am prepared for this or not.

I am lost in thought as he walks, worrying about how serious he wants to get into this conversation, or if I will be able to make this more light hearted. I know it is not yet dark outside, as our travels were short, but I am mentally and physically exhausted from the day’s events. I am dying for a shower, praying he can’t smell how badly I must smell from across the table. I think about my favorite shampoo, and how I realized I had seen it on the shelf in my shower when we left… I completely forgot to grab it. 

As I sit in my own thoughts I barely realized Nolan has returned, only now realizing he is near because I can smell pine and lilacs. I meet his gaze, lost in those blue eyes as he hands me a now refilled and much heftier glass. I know I need to take control of the conversation before he can. Being an Alpha I’m sure he is used to getting his way and having every question answered with ease, but I may not know how to give the answers he is looking for. I do my best to work up my confidence and take a large swig. I raise my eyebrow at him and say, “How about a game of 20 questions before we hit the truly serious stuff?” 

He smiles and nods, “Sure, whatever works for you, little wolf. What is your first question?”

Dang. Now he’s put me right back on the spot. I guess now I can lead the way in terms of conversation.. He is letting me have control… I’m not sure if he’s being polite or if he is trying to test me somehow.

“What’s your favorite color?” I manage to barely mumble out between laughs. He looks at me, clearly amused and takes a drink of his whiskey. “Well if my couch is any indicator, I do love green. Although I’m not sure this is how I intended these 20 questions to go.Ahem. And yours?” 

“Green as well,” I said sheepishly.  He looks at me, much like he is eyeing up his next victim. I can see his piercing sky blue eyes slowly flicker towards a more indigo color, his wolf must be attempting to take over. I cringe inside, wondering what type or turn this is about to take.

He relaxes a little and his eyes start to shift back. “My wolf, Sabre, is anxious to know our mate as well. What is your wolf’s name?” he asks as calmly as he can muster. I wiggle a bit in my seat, Carina now pushing forward, her voice in my head is all too overwhelming. ** ooooh Sabre… I love the way his name sounds on his lips. I could hear it all day… Sabre, Sabre, Sabre…** I shake my head to rattle her a bit and say, “Her name is Carina, or in this case I could say, love sick puppy,” as I roll my eyes. 

He chuckles lightly and says, “Well then Carina, Sabre and I can’t wait to meet you… but now on a more serious note..”

As he begins I can feel my stomach start to churn again. I am terrified of whatever he is thinking of asking..

He raises his eyebrows at me seriously, and says, “center cut or edge piece on your brownies?” I roar in laughter, replying “Edge piece obviously, I’m not a serial killer.” He lets out a genuine smile and says, “Well now, I was hoping you would say center cut so that we don’t have to arm wrestle for the edge pieces.”

This banter continues for a while and I start to feel more comfortable with him. It could very well also be the whiskey, I think to myself. Before we can finish our 20 questions he looks at me and sighs, saying, “As much as I’d love to to continue, I think we could both use some bathing and rest.”

At this time I realized we hadn’t even reached the hard questions I was terrified for, but I was still aching for that shower. My eyes darted around me, taking in more of this beautiful lounge, but also now knowing we had barely made it past the threshold in the house.. He looked at me, seeming to understand where my mind had gone and says, “I’ll show you around, and bring you to the suite so you can shower. I’ll use the shower in the adjoining room to give you time to get comfortable. Your things are already in the closet, and should you need anything, just ask.” 

I look at him, astonished at his kindness, and all I can seem to muster is a smile and a meek, “thank you.” 

My mind begins to wander again and I am plagued with confusion about all the stories I have heard about his coldness, this calculated and merciless Alpha, has been nothing but kind to me thus far… I am essentially waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop. 

He rises without a word, beckoning me to follow along with him. I slowly rise, still clutching my whiskey glass, nearly stumbling and he stifles a laugh. I can feel my cheeks redden with embarrassment, somehow I am always clumsy, even with all of my training. I definitely don’t want him to think the whiskey is getting to me, I might be young but my isolation at my grandmother’s cabin definitely led to a bit of a self loathing streak fueled by bourbon. I follow behind him and he gestures to the right of the entry, leading me to the kitchen. My eyes widen at the sight… for one man this kitchen is incredulous. He has deep blue double ovens, an eight burner chef’s stove, a pasta arm and a pot filler, an industrial sized fridge, counter space to die for and massive tobacco colored leather pub stools lining the countertop. He even has a brass kick bar along the countertop to rest your feet on when you sit at the barstools. All the countertops are concrete, with gorgeous dark wood cabinets, wood paneled walls and a massive window over the deep basin farmhouse sink overlooking a creek and a gorgeous forest. 

I can feel my mouth drop open and as I turn to look at Nolan he smirks and says, “Anything you like in here?” I respond, “I’m sure the look on my face was probably an indicator… anything you like in here.” He chuckles and says, “On occasion, yes.. But I do have to admit that I mostly just give into Amelia’s every whim and buy whatever she wants for the kitchen.

I make a mental note that he absolutely spoils his chef, while experiencing a somewhat frustrating feeling of jealousy eating at me.. I know she is his chef, but she is beautiful. She can’t be over 30, she is taller, probably almost 6’0”, with a gorgeous athletic build and flaming auburn hair with deep brown eyes. I can feel the jealousy bubble in my throat. I set my glass down and cross my arms, trying to comfort myself and calm down. He seems to notice my demeanor and raises an eyebrow at me, suspiciously. He continues on with the tour, not saying anything and I follow him, my eyebrows now drawn in, as if I am in pain. 

Nolan leads me to the opening where the dining room meets the kitchen, and before I can glance past his large cedar live edge table, he points towards a massive open staircase with an iron railing. I love how he has mixed modern elements into his otherwise woodsy looking home. We climb the stairs to a long hallway that is open to the left, with an iron railing overlooking the entry way below. There are several rooms to the right and we walk down the hallway until we reach the end, where there are black double doors straight ahead. He ushers me in as he opens the doors and yet again I am blown away. The room is massive, nearing the same size as the lounge downstairs. There are so many windows, but with gorgeous dark green curtains adorning each one. There is a king size log bed centered in the room with the biggest Pendelton blanket I have ever seen on it. Before I can continue to scan the room he clears his throat. He says, “The bathroom is to the left past the closet, first door, not the second. The right side of the closet is yours, your things are there and I’ve asked them to get you some extra things… let me know if you need anything, I’ll be in the other room. There is a phone on the nightstand, dial 1 and you will reach Amelia’s mate, Timothy, he is the house manager and will make sure whatever you need is delivered as quickly as possible.”

And in one sentence, this man has alleviated all of my jealousy. I feel ridiculous, and I can feel the blush begin to spread again. He looks at me like he is going to say something, and instead just smiles and gestures toward the bathroom and turns to grab some clothes for himself from the closet. I am anxious about his silence since the kitchen, which probably is one of the many reasons people think he is cold. He just must not speak much..?

I begin to walk into the bathroom, and peek my head around the corner and say, “Thank you.” He smiles and says, “You are welcome, little wolf.” As I turn to look at my surroundings, I can’t help but laugh… his bathroom is nearly identical to mine. The only real difference is that it is vastly larger and the countertops are concrete instead of quartz. There are towels folded on the counter for me and I look in the shower to see what he has to use. My eyes widen again to see a new razor and loofa, and a brand new set of the exact body wash, shampoo and conditioner I use. This man thinks of literally everything. This somehow feels too good to be true.. Everything has gone so smoothly since I’ve been here, and so again, I am anxiously waiting for the other shoe to drop. I turn on the shower and get myself clean, taking in the scent of my vanilla and cinnamon shampoo, reminding me of home. My heart aches a bit, thinking about grams and what she must be doing right now. I know she is fine without me, I just already miss her. 

I exit the shower and wrap myself in one of the most comfortable towels I’ve ever used, and wrap another one around my hair. I peek in the room and he is nowhere to be seen, so I open the closet and again, I am in shock. All of my clothes have already been hung or put away on the lower shelves, along with gowns in my size, a massive amount of jewelry on three different shelves above those clothes, and a crazy selection of shirts, jeans, flannels, sweaters and shoes… OH the shoes… birkenstocks in every color, hiking boots, vans, heels and leather boots. It’s like they saw my clothes and bought everything they could imagine I would like from their stores and then some. It is still not dark out, so I grab a pair of dark denim jeans, a green v neck shirt and a black and white flannel. I get dressed and slip on a pair of pearl white birkenstocks and walk back to the bathroom to put on mascara and lip gloss from my makeup bag that was sitting on the dresser. I unwrap my hair from the towel and place them both in the hamper in the closet. I am taking my time, waiting for him to return but he doesn’t. I walk to the opposite corner of the room and grab a drink from the bar cart he has set beside a large leather chair. I continue to wait but he isn’t coming. 

I’m sitting in my thoughts for a while, finishing my drink and that's when I hear a blood curdling scream coming from downstairs. I am kicking myself for forgetting my pistol, I slam my glass on the bar cart and run from the room as fast as I can.

I get to the railing overlooking the entry, and I see Nolan with someone in a rear choke hold and the screamer, the woman who alerted me to this chaos, standing across from him. She is an average build, with glossy dark brown hair to her waist, beautiful blue eyes (looking wildly similar to Nolan’s) and I can see she is breathing rapidly, looking from the man in a chokehold to Nolan desperately. 

She looks up and sees me standing there, and completely ignores the two men, flashing me the most brilliant smile. She looks at Nolan and says, “I am going to venture a guess that this show of brute force against my boyfriend is due to your beautiful mate upstairs.” Nolan whips around to face me, still holding the poor boyfriend around the neck, and relaxes his grip but doesn’t let go of him. He rumbles, “I will release you, but don’t so much as look at her for longer than necessary.” The poor man is massive in his own right, at least 6’2”, brown curly hair shaved on the sides, looking similar to a mohawk, with green eyes and freckles. He is clearly muscular through his t shirt and I’m sure most would consider him beautiful, but I can’t even compare him to Nolan. Nolan is perfection, even in his jealous state of rage. The girl with Nolan’s eyes laughs, hard. It bounces of the entry walls and it sounds beautiful. She looks at Nolan and says, “Well brother, while I can’t wait to talk to her and figure out how exactly you left to acquire more territory and came back with a mate, I have a feeling we need more whiskey for this.”