We find our way to the small coach belonging to the excursion organisers and grab seats on the back row. Noah stuffs his bag against the far window and lies down. I’m wide awake, having slept through most of our flight. Noah’s never been able to sleep on planes; he’s a nervous flyer, which seems ironic for someone who regularly portals themselves from place to place.
Twenty or so more people gradually board the coach, but it’s nowhere near full when we set off.
Noah manages to sleep through most of the drive while I find myself staring out of the window into the darkness and finally giving myself a chance to process this last week.
I wonder if I’ll ever see Ethan again? A part of me feels like I must have made him up. Because Sam Kelly having a holiday fling with a hot surfer doesn’t feel like it’s within the realmof possibilities. But when I close my eyes, I can still smell his orange-blossom scent and feel his soft skin under my fingertips. I’m not sure how I ever really expected my first time to go, but I suspect that being treated well and blowing your brains out of your dick is about as good as it gets.
I think I’ll miss Ethan a little. But mostly, I think I’ll miss the part of me that he woke up.
We’ve been on the road for nearly two hours when we eventually pull up to a large A-frame cabin. I pinch the back of Noah’s calf to wake him.
“Fuck. You little bitch,” he spits, glaring at me like an angry kitten.
“Come on, we’re here.”
Noah rubs his eyes with his knuckles like a sleepy toddler before following me off the coach.
The cabin is… rustic. And pretty baltic. The guy behind the hodge-podge check-in desk is a bear of a man. As big as me but even wider, with a bushy beard. He’s like the stereotype of a lumberjack with a red flannel and grubby-looking jeans.
“Names, please,” he asks rather gruffly without making eye contact.
“Samuel Kelly and Noah McNamara,” I reply.
“Here’s the key to room two; it’s a king. Is that gonna be alright?” he asks, eyes pinging between me and Noah. I suspect his main concern is whether we’re a couple rather than whether we're potentially related.
“No twins available?” I ask, hopefully.
“‘Fraid not.”
Taking the key, we go in search of our bed for the night. The room is sparsely decorated, with the exception of a large, very angry-looking moose head that hangs on the wall above the bed.Nothing says ‘sleep well’ like a decapitated piece of taxidermy watching over you as you slumber.
I’m grateful to whoever put a small heater on ahead of our arrival because it’s much warmer than it was in the lobby.
Noah collapses onto the nearside of the bed before complaining that the mattress is lumpy.
We’re both exhausted from travelling most of the day, and we have a full day of activities tomorrow, so we quickly wash up and get ready for bed. It’s hard to believe that this time yesterday, I was in Ethan’s bed. And Ethan was, well, inme. I really need not think about that, though, since I’m currently sharing a bed with my cousin.
It isn't long before I’m sweating like I’m in a sauna rather than in a little wooden cabin without insulation.
“Knock it off,” I grumble at Noah.
“I’m cold,” he whines.
“There is no way you are cold right now. You’ve turned the room into a toaster oven.”
Thankfully, Noah falls asleep quickly and the temperature of the room drops back down again. I’m shattered, but my brain won’t switch off. Soon, I’ll be back in rainy Manchester. Back to all my responsibilities. Back to real life.
I’m envious that by the end of Mum’s trip, she felt determined and ready to claim her future. I, on the other hand, am as woefully unprepared as ever. My heartbeat begins to race at the thought of being Alpha one day. Having a whole pack depending on me. Alone at the top because, honestly, I think my mum must have been mad to be an Alpha’s spouse. Not that I suppose the mating bond gave her much choice in the matter.
I kick Noah twice in the shin before he stirs.
“What do you want, heathen?” he mumbles.
“Will you really not take over as pack witch after Orla?” I whisper. Orla’s our great-grandmother and has been the pack witch for over sixty years. She’s in her late eighties now, though,so the chances of her still being around when I become Alpha are pretty slim.
“No.”
“Why not? I know you’ve said before you won’t be a pack witch for anyone, but why?”
