His Little Runt

Chapter 7

Caden

"It's simple," Marcel says, looking at me like I'm the dumbest person on earth.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. "It's not."

"It really is," he says, folding his hands between his knees and leaning forward. "All you gotta do is walk in and play dumb. She'll never know."

I give a humourless laugh. "She's Alairia, Marcy, she will always know."

He sighs. "You're right. Well, I'm out of ideas."

"I will just apologize. Being remorseful always works" I say decisively, nodding my head like I'm trying to convince myself more than him.

He casts a doubtful look my way. "Somehow I think only you can make this turn out worse than it already is."

I glare. "Your assholishness isn't helping the situation."

He shrugs, a small smile creeping up his lips. "At least I can say I tried."

"Your efforts are ill advised and definitely won't be taken into consideration, therefore, your trying doesn't count."

He just smirks with a wink, flashing me his teeth as he walks out the door.

"Arrogant weirdo," I mumble under my breath.

"I heard that!" He calls from the hall.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

I think I turned around about eleven times on the way here, but I'm finally standing beside the bakery. Yes, beside, because those are very big windows and Alairia doesn't need to know that I stalk her on a regular basis.

You sound like a level A stalker..., my wolf says. Word it better next time.

I roll my eyes. You're the only one who can hear my thoughts, so it can be worded as horribly as I want it to be.

He goes off on a rambling rampage of how inconsiderate humans are, but I shut him out as I finally work up the courage to walk around Sprinkled.

I rub my clammy hands up and down my jeans, and take a few deep breaths.

Yes, take a deep breath, my wolf drawls. It's not like you ruined the very fragile tether we had with our soulmate by declaring you wish for her to warm your bed. Deep breathing will definitely fix that.

You're lucky I can't throw you out of my skull, I growl.

My hand reaches out to tug on the doorknob, but it doesn't give. I look up for the first time since rounding the corner, only to notice that all the lights are off. She didn't open the bakery this morning. She has never missed a work day.

Worry pinches my spine, slowly squeezing until it feels like it's being crushed.

Her house! My wolf demands, the same worry mirrored in his voice. Go to her house!

I run, using every ounce of speed I have until I'm at her door, hitting the worn wood with my fist.

"Alairia?" I call.

Nothing. Only silence except for the gentle hum of the trees swaying.

I hit the door again, harder this time.

"Alairia! If you don't come out then I'm coming in!"

Not even the sound of footsteps grace my words, and I don't hesitate another minute before ramming the door open.

My eyes start investigating before I'm even all the way through the arch. Her chocolate stained shoes aren't on her shoe rack, and her pink apron isn't hanging on the door. She never came home last night.

I was so caught up in meetings and paperwork yesterday that I didn't get a chance to stop by. It may also have been because of the fact that I'm scared I pushed her too hard, that I said the wrong thing at the wrong time.

I was a coward, and now she's probably in danger.

We need to find her, my wolf snarls.

We will, I say, hoping that it's more true than it feels.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

The walk back to the packhouse was more of a hazy blur than anything. All I can think about is how I could have prevented this. If I had been less of a coward and just talked to her, then maybe she would still be here.

I haven't touched the topic of her moving into the packhouse since she told me that her independence was something she held in a very tight box. I agreed to not push her, but then the other day happened and I just felt like all our problems would be resolved with a single solution. They can't be, and now she's in trouble and I have no idea where to even start looking.

The doors to the packhouse open with a bang, my fast strides eating up every inch of distance until I find Marcel exactly where I knew I would. The dining room.

He glances up from his plate of what looks suspiciously like a mountain of cubed cheese, takes one look at my face, and stands immediately, following me out of the room.

"What's wrong?" He asks when I stop by the outside doors.

"Alairias gone. I can't find her anywhere and the traces that I have found point me to believe that she's in serious trouble."

"We can start with the woods," Marcel says, not even sparing a minute to hesitate before throwing on his jacket. "Chances are she's still in the pack."

"And what if she's not?" I ask, anxiety making my head swim.

I hate this feeling. Helplessness. It's disgustingly painful to know that there's nothing you can do but your best and hope that it's enough.

Marcel straps his bow to his back as he says, "Then we go pay a few enemies a visit."