CHAPTER 36

CHAPTER 36
BLAIR

I'm lying on Dalton's chest on the chaise lounge, both of us watching as the sunrise begins to form on the horizon through the large window. Dalton gently caresses my bare shoulder with his hand. We've been here for about two hours, making love on this sofa.

"Have you forgiven me for my stupidity?" he asks, smiling at me.

"No," I respond firmly, although I know I have already forgiven him.

"What else do you want from me to forgive me?"

The collar and earrings were nice, although I don't need anything else. I should frustrate him a little more. The house, this house, is beautiful and full of life, something I love in homes, with a large garden and beautiful views.

"This house."

"You want this house?" his voice shows confusion.

"Yes, you and I can come here to grow old after our first child takes over the pack," his body tenses at my words.

"Grow old together..." his gaze gets lost in the sunrise as if he's reflecting on my words.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"Nothing," he recovers and smiles at me. "I love you."

"I love you too," I take his neck and kiss him.

His hand slowly caresses my skin, from my shoulder to my thigh, causing goosebumps to rise. Dalton lowers his gaze over my body and then looks into my eyes.

"You've never heard that the skin belongs to whoever makes it tingle," he whispers in such a sensual way that it should be forbidden. "So technically, your skin is mine," his half-smile appears, and I melt inside. I burst into laughter and take his cheeks to give him a deep kiss on the lips.

"I love you," he says again. "When I touch you, I feel like I've lived my whole life with empty hands."

It's a bit strange for Dalton to say such sweet words all day long, but I don't think it'll be hard for me to get used to it. Maybe this is the beginning of our life together, one without so many fights. The past will remain in the past, and nothing and no one can change that except us.

"You're worrying me, Black," I say playfully.

But his gaze becomes serious for a moment, I can barely make it out, insecurity? All of this is very strange.

"Tell me, how many puppies do you want to have?" he asks, pulling my body closer to his chest.

"I don't know, three?" I respond thoughtfully.

It's not a topic I've been thinking about much, to be honest.

"And how do you want to name them?" he looks out at the horizon through the window.

"I think for the first one, I'd like Eros or Nicklaus," I say, snuggling up to him.

"I like Eros, it sounds stronger for an alpha," he says, taking my knuckles.

"You're right," I respond, completely agreeing with him. Eros is a stronger name.

"You'll never forget that I love you, right?" he asks, looking at the sunrise.

I lift my gaze and see his clenched jaw as if he's restraining himself.

"I'll never forget."



Around three in the afternoon, we left the house to go into town. We wanted to explore and get to know it. I was wearing black pants and a blouse of the same color, a long-sleeved black sweater with two brown stripes, and gray slip-on sneakers. My hair was loose.

Dalton, on the other hand, was wearing a black shirt that hugged his body, dark jeans, and a camel-colored trench coat. He looked extremely handsome, undoubtedly catching the attention of the female population.

Upon arriving in the city, we went to a tourist spot and were informed about the various available tours, all with very interesting places. The downside was that people were waiting, and Dalton began to get impatient. We were leaning on the counter, looking at the brochures offered to us by the attendant.

"Which tour do you want to take?" I ask Dalton.

"Whichever one you choose," his impatience is evident.

"People are waiting to take their tours," says the attendant.

This causes Dalton to explode.

"Tell her supervisor to come here," he says angrily. The poor woman gets scared and starts to stammer.

"But..."

"Call him," the woman gets up and disappears down a hallway.

"What do you plan to do?" I ask, confused and annoyed, as it's not comfortable being here.

For a wolf, much less. We have heightened senses, so strong smells and a lot of noise make us desperate. And Dalton, being an alpha, is even worse.

"Any problem, sir?" asks the establishment employee.

"I want a personal and private guide," Dalton says.

"Oh, have you seen our tours, sir?"

"Yes, and I don't want to take any of them in particular, so I'm requesting one of your best guides for my wife and me," Dalton says.

"Alright, sir, come this way," he guides us to an office, and 20 minutes later, we leave the establishment with a guide.

"Do you have any idea of what you want to see?" the 19-year-old guy asks.

"No," I respond, brushing my hair away from my face.

"Well, I can take you to the distillery district," he suggests.

"Yes," I say excitedly.

"No," Dalton says.

I turn my face to look at him, seeking an explanation.

"Why?" I ask.

"The thing is, she's an alcoholic," Dalton says, laughing.

"I'm not an alcoholic," I'm indignant and, to prove it, I playfully tap him on the chest.

"See, she's in the denial stage. I have to keep her away from all that, especially apple martinis."

"Don't pay attention to her. Of course, she's not an alcoholic," I playfully hit Dalton on the arm.

The poor guy laughs at us but doesn't say anything, remaining silent.

"Well, I can take you to Casa Loma," suggests the guy.

I look at Dalton, and we both nod in agreement.

"Well, follow me, please," says the guy and starts walking, with Dalton and me following him.

"I think we'll have a nice honeymoon after all," I say.

"It would have been great no matter where we were, as long as we were together," he puts an arm around my shoulders and pulls me close.

We reach the roadside, and the guy leads us to a white van, one of those typically used for tours. He opens the back door, and I enter first, followed by Dalton. There's someone in the driver's seat, a 35-year-old man with dark skin.

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Black," the guy greets, waving his hand. "I'm George, and I'll be your driver."

"Pleased to meet you," I say, while Dalton remains silent.

"Well, I'm Bennett, and we're going to Casa Loma," the other guy says.

The van starts, and I rest my head on Dalton's shoulder.

"This is silly, I can't," I exclaim in despair, throwing the toy at Dalton.

"Let me see it," he says, taking the Rubik's Cube from my hands.

He puts on a concentrated face and starts moving it, but he undoes the two sides that I had managed to solve.

"What are you doing?" I shout at him.

"Trying to solve the cube," he says without looking away.

"But you're undoing what I had already solved."

"That's the point," he replies, without budging an inch.

I cross my arms over my chest and stay angry because I can't solve a stupid Rubik's Cube. How is it possible that I can't solve a Rubik's Cube?

Maybe that's an indication of how useless I am.

"How much longer, Bennett?" I ask.

"About fifteen minutes, Mrs. Black."

"Here," Dalton says, handing me a perfectly solved Rubik's Cube.

I'm left speechless as I take less than ten minutes to solve it, whereas I had been struggling for almost an hour and only managed to solve two sides. I turn my face and see a smug smile on his face. On impulse, I throw the cube at him, but he shields himself.

"Hey!"

"You're such a jerk," I say angrily, crossing my arms again.

"Here we are," Bennett says, opening the door.

In front of us is a palace, not a house, a literal castle with towers. We enter, and everything is more than grand, the windows allow the light to enter in an extremely majestic way.

"This house was built by the eccentric millionaire Henry Mill Pellatt, who tried to replicate the Balmoral Castle," Bennett begins to speak.

But the truth is, I didn't pay attention due to the wonderful views the house offered me. This house would be any architect's dream.

Finally, we leave the house after almost two hours of exploring the place. I'm exhausted and in need of a good rest.

"Sir, I don't know if you want to go anywhere else apart from here. We have about two or three more hours of touring," says Bennett, looking at his wristwatch once we're in the car.

"We don't know, you're the guide," Dalton says, somewhat overwhelmed.

"Well... um..." he starts getting nervous, and I know that's one of the things Dalton can't stand.

"We can take you to the Toronto Eaton Center, ma'am," says George.

"Is it a shopping center?" I ask.

"Yes, ma'am," says George.

"I'm fine with that," I tell Dalton.

"Me too, George," Dalton agrees.