Chapter 27

I could smell Charles before I felt him step beside me.

"Was that the person following you?" he asked. He put his heavy, strong arm around me, pulling me close.

Without thinking, I leaned into him, feeling his strength fill me and replace the fear I'd just felt. His other arm wrapped around me protectively, and I suddenly wanted to stay there forever.

"I didn't get a good look," I admitted. "I honestly didn't notice until I saw your reaction."

He was still rumbling slightly in his chest, and if it were another Alpha I'd be worried. With Charles, however, the effect soothed me, like he had the power to stop anything bad happening.

We stood that way for a moment, and then Charles took a deep breath. I felt his body relax.

"Let's go inside," he said. "Do you think you can eat something?"

I nodded, though I actually wasn't sure. My nerves were still on edge, and when he released me I felt bereft, like he was letting me go forever.

My hand instinctively reached back toward him, and he stopped, smiling, and took my hand, tucking it under his arm in a friendly way that both appeased and depressed me.

I wanted more.

Inside the waiter gestured us to the table Charles had already secured in a quiet corner. He nodded at the waiter to poured me a glass of wine.

"Oh, I don't think I need a..."

"Drink it, Elena. You've had a shock."

I nodded and took a sip. The warm liquid glowed on it's way to my stomach and radiated out. He was right.

Charles was looking at me, an odd look on his face.

"What?"

"Tell me if I'm wrong, but there are only two differences in your life that might cause someone to follow you. The first is the time your spending with me with me, but not many people know that. The second is your work on the orphanage, which seems way more likely."

I nodded.

He frowned. "Do you want to stop working on the story? It would be the smart things to do, even if it was just for a little while to see if this person stops following you."

I picked up my spoon and turned it around in my hand, thinking.

"To be honest, I am a bit scared."

Charles nodded. "You'd be foolish not to be."

"And I keep thinking about what you told me about Sally and the effect her investigation had on her family."

Charles' eyes were intensely blue, and I had to drop my eyes. I realized I was fiddling with the spoon and I put it down.

"The thing is, I don't have a family. I'm alone."

I saw Charles' jaw muscle twitch, but he remained quiet.

"The repercussions are limited if something happens to me. I'm not like Sally, with a family that can be hurt." Somehow I'd picked up the spoon again and was gesturing with it.

"I want to do the right thing, and I don't want whoever is out there to think they can intimidate me into letting something I know is wrong continue to happen under all our noses. That makes me complicit."

He was looking at me strangely again.

"Sorry," I said, putting down the spoon and trying to smile. "I didn't realize I was brandishing silverware."

"I didn't notice either," he said, his gaze questioning. "It's just you continue to surprise me, Elena. You're not at all who I thought you were."

My mind when back to the scene in his car after the reunion. He'd assumed I was a doormat, which I guessed most people assumed of anyone quiet and without an assertive scent.

"I'm changing your mind in a good way, I hope," I said, smiling a little.

He nodded, looking at me with, what was it? Wonder?

"As your boss, I'm obviously impressed with your ethics and determination. You're clearly meant to be a journalist, and I hadn't heard that properly until now."

His words should have made me happy, but instead they made my heart sink.

As my boss?

We felt like more than that a minute ago when he had his arms around me.

"I also feel a responsible boss would tell you that no story is worth compromising your safety."

I looked at my empty plate. Was he going to demand I stop? He had the power to shut my story down.

The waiter approached and Charles' expression changed to polite interest. He looked at my distracted face and ordered for both of us, something that would have annoyed me normally but tonight felt right. I wasn't in the mood to decide on anything when I was so turned around.

Charles sighed, lifting his own glass of wine and looking around the room of quiet, intimate diners.

"I am not used to being indecisive," he said, almost to himself. "I don't like it."

He leveled his gaze at me. "I want to be a responsible person and boss. I also want you to lose your bet, but your conviction makes me root for you. I'm frustrated with myself because I find myself wanting to help you and that goes against two of my usual goals."

He laughed softly and shook his head. His smile was contagious, and I smiled back at him.

"I'm sorry that I am messing with your Alpha-ness," I grin.

He raised his hands in mock distress. "Introspection! Whatever shall I do?"

"Is that actually an Alpha thing? Introspection?" I asked curiously. I had never heard of Alphas doing much self-exploration.

He shrugged. "If it happens, we tend to subdue it and mostly pretend it never happened," he said, smiling slightly but only half joking. "We're only vulnerable with a select few. Parents, mates, an occasional Beta."

My mind raced.

Then what am I? My heart began to thump.

The waiter set a basket of bread in front of us, and to my surprise my stomach growled at the sight.

"Ha!" Charles, said. "I heard that across the table! That's good, it means you weren't cowed by that creep."

He took the basket and offered me a slice. The bread was warm and soft, and I smiled. Just smelling it gave me courage. I grabbed some.

He took a piece and a bite, still looking at me keenly while he chewed.

"How was it growing up, if you don't mind me asking. Were you lonely? Was it bad in your orphanage?"

I considered his question.

"Not really. I wasn't abused or neglected like what I'm seeing here, though those poor women are trying their best."

I looked at him over our wine. "You can probably judge for yourself. You saw me every day."

His eyebrows raised. "So back then you were going to the orphanage after school?"

I nodded.

He looked shaken. "I... I'm sorry. I guess I didn't think about that. You were so quiet, and then going home to, well, no one."

"That's not it. I had lots of people around who genuinely cared about me. They still do, actually. I write to my headmistress a lot."

I ripped a small piece from the bread I'm holding and eat it.

"It's not that people neglected me necessarily, but with my lack of scent..." Charles' frowned and I corrected myself.

"...or what most people characterize as my lack of scent, I didn't stand out, and even in a group where people cared about me they often overlooked me no matter what I did."

"I went through a phase of doing naughty things just to see if people noticed. Nothing big. Things like pulling pranks or moving objects around. In the end I gave up because even when people knew it was me they mostly forgot. So why behave badly when no one cares?"

I laughed at the memory but Charles looked moved.

"I don't think I've ever met anyone with such a strong moral compass," he said. "You could be the world's best thief!"

I shrugged. "Maybe if my boss fires me it will be my next line of work."

Charles laughed and looked up as our meal came.

"Listen," he said a moment later, pausing before he cut into his steak. "I'm sorry about the loneliness in your past. And I'm sorry I was sitting right next to you and didn't know."

I gestured as if to wave it away, but he cut me off.

"Let me finish. I just want you to know, what you said about you having no one, that no one would be affected so you might as well pursue the story. That's not true. Think of Cathy."

He was right. I nodded, smiling. "She's been the closest thing to family I've ever had."

"And," he said with firmness, "I've known you almost as long, remember? I'm not going to let anyone hurt you, Elena. We're going to catch this guy."

He looked at me, his eyes saying something else, something I couldn't place.

"You have friends, Elena."

It touched me.

"Thank you," I said, my voice hoarse from constricting with emotion.

He was being so kind, and yet he couldn't know that it also felt disappointing.

But I was being silly. I was the one who wanted him at arm's length.

"I want you to write your story and do what you need," he said, putting down his knife. "I promise I'm going to protect you from whatever is out there."

My mind raced. His eyes were so intense as they looked at me, willing me to understand something he wasn't saying.

Was he only talking about the orphanage and the stalker now? Was it only because he needed my scent or was he truly feeling something for me?

It certainly felt like more.