The Alpha I Live With Knew Me Long Ago

Cold autumn rain lashed against my face. I dragged my battered suitcase up the wooden steps of the cabin. The porch boards groaned under my weight, protesting the intrusion.

"Don't go near him," the tavern owner had warned me yesterday, wiping a dirty glass with a dirtier rag. "Silas Thorne is violent. He'll snap you in half just for looking at him."

"I just need a room," I had told the old man. "I can pay a little."

"Not there, you won't. Nobody goes to the Thorne property. The man is a beast. He hates company, and he hates strangers even more."

I had no other choice. My knuckles rapped against the heavy oak door.

The wind howled, drowning out the sound. I knocked again, harder, my fist aching from the cold.

The lock clicked. The door swung inward.

Silas filled the frame. He was a mountain of a man, casting a long, dark shadow over the threshold. An oppressive weight radiated from him, a silent warning to turn around and run. His dark hair was plastered to his forehead, and his eyes were like chipped flint.

I didn't move.

"What do you want?" His voice was gravel, scraping against the damp air.

"I need a place to stay." I gripped the plastic handle of my suitcase. "Just for a little while."

He stared at me. For a split second, his jaw tightened. His chest expanded as he inhaled, his nostrils flaring just a fraction. He was taking in the cold air between us—taking in my scent.

A strange flicker crossed his eyes. It looked like pure shock. His entire massive frame went rigid, as if a ghost had just appeared on his porch. But just as quickly as the emotion surfaced, he crushed it. His expression hardened into stone, wiping away any trace of recognition.

"You're lost," he said, pushing the door to close it.

I shoved my wet boot into the gap. "I'm not lost. I was told you live here. Alone."

"Then you were told wrong. Get off my porch."

"Please," I said, my voice steady despite the shivering in my chest. "The town is miles back. The rain is turning to ice. If you lock me out, I'll freeze."

"Not my problem."

"It will be when you have to drag my frozen body off your steps tomorrow morning."

Silas paused. He looked down at my boot, then up to my face. His eyes were cold, calculating.

"You aren't afraid of me?" he asked.

"Should I be?"

"People in town talk. I assume you've heard."

"I heard you're violent," I said, wiping a streak of freezing rain from my cheek. "I heard you've hurt people who crossed into your territory. I also heard you broke a man's arm just for trespassing."

"I broke both his arms," Silas corrected, his voice deadpan. "And his nose."

"Well, I don't plan on trespassing. I plan on being a guest."

He let out a harsh, humorless sound. "And you think those rumors are lies?"

"I think I'm freezing to death on your porch," I countered. "I don't have anywhere else to go. You're the only one out here. I don't think you'll hurt me."

"You don't know me."

"Then prove the town right. Slam the door on my foot."

Silence stretched between us, heavy and thick. The rain hammered the tin roof above us. Silas kept his gaze locked on mine. He was searching for something, peeling back my layers with just a look. I held my ground, forcing my hands to stop shaking.

"Why come to me?" he asked, his tone dropping. "Why not the inn?"

"I don't have money for the inn. I can work for my keep here. I'll cook. I'll clean."

"I don't need a maid."

"Then you need quiet company. I won't bother you."

He leaned closer. The scent of woodsmoke and rain rolled off his clothes. "You're taking a massive risk, little girl."

"My name is Elowen. And I'm out of options."

He stared at my face. His eyes darted to my lips, then back up to my eyes. He swallowed hard.

"If you steal from me, I'll break your fingers," he finally said.

He stepped back, pulling the door wide open.

"I don't steal," I said, dragging my suitcase over the threshold.

"Take off your boots. Don't track mud into the hall."

The inside of the cabin smelled like pine and old leather. It was warm, a sharp contrast to the freezing downpour outside. I kicked off my boots and left them by the door. Water pooled around my socks.

"Upstairs," Silas ordered. "First door on the right."

He didn't offer to help. I grabbed the handle of my suitcase and hauled it toward the wooden staircase. The wheels caught on the edge of a thick woven rug. I yanked it, but the heavy bag tipped sideways, crashing onto the floorboards with a loud bang.

"Damn it," I muttered, bending down to right it.

Silas was there before I could grab the handle. His large hand clamped around the worn plastic grip.

"I've got it," I said, reaching for it at the exact same time.

My fingers brushed against his knuckles.

A sharp, scorching jolt snapped through my hand, racing straight up my arm. I yanked my hand back, gasping. The heat of it burned beneath my skin, unnatural and terrifying. It wasn't just a spark. It felt like a live wire had been pressed directly against my veins.

Silas flinched. He dropped the handle instantly. The suitcase hit the floor again with another loud thud, but neither of us looked at it.

"What was that?" I asked, rubbing my palm. My skin felt like it was humming, vibrating with an invisible energy.

He stared at his own hand for a long moment. His fingers curled into a tight fist. His throat