Chapter 18 CHAPTER 18

Chapter 18 CHAPTER 18
Bronte's POV

Alexander drives us himself, no beta, no guards, just the two of us in his car heading away from the pack house.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"You'll see." He reaches over and takes my hand, lacing our fingers together. "I wanted to spend some time alone with you before things get even more hectic with the ceremony preparations."

I look out the window as the pack territory passes by, trees and trails I've started to recognize from my time here, and I try to remember the last time Alexander and I were alone like this, just us without pack business or ceremony planning or other people watching.

I can't remember.

"You're quiet," he says.

"Just tired. I didn't sleep well."

"Still having those bad dreams?"

"Something like that."

"You should talk to the pack healer. She can give you something to help you sleep." He squeezes my hand. "I need you well-rested for all the preparations coming up."

We drive for another twenty minutes until the trees open up and I see water sparkling in the morning sun, a lake I've heard about but never visited, and nestled at the edge of it is a small cabin with a dock stretching out over the water.

"This is beautiful," I say.

"I thought you'd like it." He parks and comes around to open my door. "My father used to bring me here when I was young. It's been in our family for generations."

We walk down to the dock and sit at the edge, our feet dangling over the water. The air is cool and clean and quiet except for birds and the gentle lap of water against the posts.

"I've been thinking," Alexander says, his arm around my shoulders. "About after the ceremony."

"What about it?"

"Where we want to live. I know traditionally the Luna moves into the Alpha's quarters, but I thought maybe we could renovate, make it ours instead of just mine."

"That's thoughtful."

"I want you to be happy here, Bronte. I want this to feel like home."

He talks about paint colors and furniture and whether we should expand the bedroom or add a sitting room, his voice warm and excited, planning our future like it's something already decided and perfect.

"And children," he continues. "I know we talked about it before, but I want you to know I'm not trying to rush you. Whenever you're ready, we'll start trying. There's no pressure."

"Okay."

"I was thinking three or four would be ideal, but if you want more or less, we can figure it out together."

He keeps talking and I keep nodding, watching the sunlight dance across the water, trying to feel what I'm supposed to feel.

Excitement. Joy. Love.

Anything.

"Bronte?" He turns me to face him. "Are you listening?"

"Yes, sorry, I'm just taking it all in."

"It's a lot, I know." He smiles and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "But we have time to figure it all out. I just want you to know that I've thought about this, about us, about the life we're going to build together."

"I know you have."

"Do you ever think about it? Our future?"

"Of course I do."

"And?"

"And what?"

"What do you see?"

I look at him, at his perfect face and his perfect smile and his perfect plans, and I try to see what he sees, try to imagine the life he's describing.

But all I see is Sebastian's face last night, the way he looked at me before he left, the question he wouldn't answer.

"I see us," I say finally. "Together."

It's not a lie exactly, but it's not the whole truth either.

Alexander leans in and kisses me, soft at first and then deeper, pulling me closer until I'm pressed against him. His hand cups the back of my head and his other hand slides to my waist and I kiss him back because that's what I'm supposed to do, that's what I've always done.

But I feel nothing.

No spark, no heat, no racing heart.

Just emptiness where something should be.

He pulls back and rests his forehead against mine. "I love you," he says.

"I love you too," I say automatically, the words I've said a thousand times before.

But they taste different now, hollow somehow, and I wonder if he can hear it in my voice.

We sit by the lake for another hour while he talks about the ceremony plans, about the guests who will be arriving over the next few days, about his speech to the pack afterward. He's planned everything down to the smallest detail and his excitement is genuine and infectious and I try to let it pull me along.

By the time we drive back to the pack house the sun is low in the sky, painting everything gold and warm.

"Thank you for today," I say as we pull up to the entrance.

"Thank you for coming." He kisses me again, quick and sweet. "Get some rest tonight. We have a busy week ahead."

"I will."

I walk into the pack house and it's busy with preparations, pack members carrying supplies, voices calling out instructions. I slip past them all and head upstairs, exhausted in a way that has nothing to do with lack of sleep.

When I reach the landing I pause and look down the corridor.

From here I can see the library door at the far end of the house.

There's a light on inside, warm and inviting, spilling out into the dim hallway.

I know who's in there.

I stand there for a long moment, my hand on the banister, debating.

I should go to my room, rest like Alexander said, stay away from whatever this pull is that I can't seem to shake.

I turn and walk to my room.

I close the door behind me and lean against it, telling myself I made the right choice.

Hours pass and I don't move from my bed, just staring at the ceiling, watching the light change as evening turns to night.

Around midnight, I finally sit up.

That's when I see it.

A book lying on the floor by my door, like someone slid it underneath while I was lying here.

I get up and pick it up.

Jane Eyre.

The same copy Sebastian was reading in the library that first night.

I flip through the pages and find one marked with a torn piece of paper, and on that page, one line is underlined in pencil.

"I would always rather be happy than dignified."

I read it three times, my fingers tracing the words.