ONE - CAMERON
“It’ll be good to get home,” Thomas sighed, sinking into his seat next to the window.
“No kidding. I feel like we’ve been gone for some kind of conference all month,” I grumble as I take a seat across from him, dropping my laptop bag onto the empty seat at my side. I glance out the window at the half-empty platform, unsurprised to find many people traveling at this time of the year. It’s so close to Christmas that most people are already settled in with their families. That’s not to say there are no travelers out and about. My gaze is drawn toward a woman in line to board the train. She looks like a handmade rainbow, complete with a crocheted beanie in every pastel color of the rainbow, matching leggings, and a long, light blue sweater pashmina scarf wrapped snuggly around her neck. Like a flaming Medusa, she has fiery red hair, and her curls poke out wildly in every direction where they come past her beanie.
“I’ve never seen someone so colorful,” Thomas muses, chuckling to himself as he stares at the woman as well.
She’s reading a book, but she must feel our eyes on her, for she looks up toward our window. “Oh crap,” Thomas says, quickly glancing away and looking far too obvious about it.
I don’t look away, though, and when her bright blue eyes meet mine, I feel like a deer in headlights, unable to tear my gaze from her. There is something familiar about this woman, though I am positive I’ve never seen her before. My wolf feels it, too, for he grumbles low in my head, and I’m not sure if it’s a warning or something else. She seems harmless, though. I’ve never known a rainbow to pose a danger to anyone.
The spell is broken when the man behind her taps her on her shoulder in an indication that the line has moved. My wolf snarls again in my head at the sight, and I force my gaze away, ignoring his strange mood. My phone buzzes, and I pluck it from the inner pocket of my coat to read a text from my mother. I smile at her question bout when we’ll be home and tap out a reply. Suddenly, my nostrils flare, and my wolf roars back to consciousness in my head at the sweetest scent I have ever caught before. I lift my head just in time to see the human rainbow walking past us, and in my soul, I know it was her.
“Mate,” my wolf hisses out at the same time that I stand, phone falling out of my hand and whacking my head off the cupboard above me.
”What the-?“ Thomas says, looking up from his own phone. Alpha? He questions through our lycan mindlink. What’s going on?
She’s my mate, I answer, rubbing my head as I twist around to find the girl.
“The rainbow girl?” Thomas asks, and the amusement in his voice makes me look back at him with a warning snarl. He holds his hands up, head tipping slightly to the side in submission. “Sorry,” he says. “Go. I’ll stay here with our things.” He leans forward and picks up my phone, but I don’t bother to take it from him.
I don’t need to be told twice, instead stepping out into the aisle as the train pulls out of the station. I follow her scent, noting how she smells like fall: cinnamon and cloves, the undertones of vanilla and fallen leaves. My wolf would love to roll in that scent and has already decided that it will mix well with his, with ours. She hadn’t gone far, just a few rows back, but there are already two young men seated across from her. They both have their phones out, and I can see they’re texting one another about her. At least they’re not being cruel aloud, but I feel protective over her already, and it sickens me that they’re making fun of her at all.
I step into the men’s line of sight and growl, allowing myself to straighten to my full height and show some of my wolf’s strength. I am smaller than Thomas when it comes to muscle, a fact that many outside my own pack believe makes me inferior as an Alpha. But there has never been a moment in which my authority has been questioned. I like to joke that Thomas is my muscle, but in truth, I have every ounce of Alpha power that I will ever need. There has not been a single time when I have doubted myself or my control over my pack.
“Move,” I snarl at the men, and they don’t fight the command.
Once they have scrambled out of the seats, I step in and take the one across from my mate. Her nose is back in her book, and she hasn’t looked up, nor has she appeared to even notice my presence. I don’t mind terribly for the moment. I cross one ankle over the opposite knee and settle into my seat to watch her.
She has a heart-shaped face and pale, pale skin that makes me think she must surely never step foot outside. There’s not a blemish to be found on her skin, though, and I curl my fingers into the fabric of my pants as I fight the desire to reach out and touch her cheek to find out if her skin is as soft as it looks. Her cheeks and nose are rosy from the chill in the air outside, bringing life to that pretty pale skin. She still has the beanie on her head, and that wild hair hasn’t settled in the least since she came inside out of the icy breeze. My gaze trails from the woman’s face downward. It’s always difficult to tell the shape of one’s body in the wintertime when we are all prone to dressing in layers to keep warm. My mate doesn’t seem appropriately dressed for the chill in the air, with no coat protecting her vital organs. As a Lycan, I don’t even need the outer layers because my wolf keeps me warm, but I wear them anyway, and I feel irritation over my mate’s lack of concern for the weather. It will only get colder the deeper we get into the Highlands.
Still, the lack allows me a more thorough idea of her body, and my wolf takes great pride in the soft curves of our mate’s form. She is no bony, skinny little thing. She will eat well, then, and even better under our care. And beyond that, this healthy body will serve her better when the time comes for her to bear our pups. My wolf has my body heating even more at the very idea. I lean forward slightly and slip my own jacket from my shoulders, dragging it around to rest on my lap.
As I do so, I see my mate’s nostrils flare slightly, and pleasure burns in my chest. She scents us, my wolf and I think together. But she doesn’t look up, and this frustrates me more. Does she not feel my presence here with her?
Perhaps the book is simply too good to put down. I tilt my head so that I can see the cover and can’t help the soft chuckle that escapes me. It is a Christmas romance. Oh, if only she knew the great romance that sits just in front of her. After all, she is a human. So few of her kind have this opportunity. Her life has changed today, and she doesn’t even realize it.
“Don’t judge me,” a soft voice says suddenly, and I sit straighter. She has noticed me here. Blue eyes flick up to watch me through pale lashes. She doesn’t even wear makeup, but good Lord above, she is beautiful. “A girl’s allowed to dream of a Christmas romance.” Her cheeks flush prettily despite her defensive words. I realize she has an American accent. She looks to be as Scottish as we come, but she’s American. I hadn’t seen that coming.
”Only a Christmas romance?” I ask her. “Does it end after that?”
”Well, no. But everything’s more romantic at Christmastime.” She gets a dreamy look in her eyes at that. Then suddenly, as if realizing she’s looking at me full-on instead of hiding beneath her eyelashes, her blush burns hotter, and she turns to look out the window, watching the Scottish landscape go by.
“Is that what you’ve come to Scotland for, then? Looking for a romance?” I can’t help but ask, grinning teasingly over at her. I know the movies American women like to watch. They can’t seem to resist the accent. I hope the same is true for my lovely mate.
She snorts at that. Full-on snorts, and my grin grows wider. “Uh, no. Real life doesn’t work like that.”
Oh, but it does, lass, I think. I lean my elbow against the armrest and prop my chin in my hand as I continue to watch her. I can’t take my eyes off her. And I want to hear her speak more. I want to know everything about her.
”I disagree. What is it ya want? Carriage rides through the snow? A kiss beneath the mistletoe inside a winter wonderland castle?”
She shoots a sideways glance at me, and I see the flush has drifted down her neck. I almost groan at the sight. I wish she’d take off that scarf. The wolf in me wants to see her neck bared, to picture the mating bite there before we give it. Oh, but that color in her skin is so lovely.
“…No,” she answers, but her voice is hesitant now, smaller, almost like she’s closing up on me, throwing up walls to push me out of her dreams.
“Bheirinn e dhut uile, a chridhe,” I breathe.
She looks at me again, brows drawn and her eyes… alarmed? Crap, does she understand Gaelic? “You don’t even know me,” she says, and her gaze flicks around the rest of the train for a moment as if she’s remembering there are others around us. Crap. She does understand Gaelic. And here I thought I could woo her with it without her actually knowing what I was saying.
How’s it going back there? Sounds like you’re striking out, Thomas teases through the mindlink.
Shut up, I mutter inwardly.
Man, Gaelic is supposed to always work, my Beta continues. What the heck happened there?
Ignoring my best friend and second in command, I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “Maybe not. But I would like to.” I reach out and steal the book from her hands, which she immediately protests and reaches for. My eyes flick across the page she’d had open, and I scoff. “This is not true romance.”
She meets my gaze, a determined look in her eyes now. They blaze, and I swear those fiery curls grow wilder. She’s like one of the fae people. Perhaps that’s why she knows Gaelic, but sounds so out of place here. “Look, I don’t know why you’re bugging me, but you can go back to your friend now. The joke’s all played out.” She reaches out and snatches the book back, hugging it to her chest. “And by the way, I didn’t ask for your opinion on the book.”
The joke? She thought— My gaze flicks over my shoulder in the direction the two men who had previously been sitting here had gone. My mate thought that she was the brunt of a joke from me? “I would never-“
My beautiful mate silences me by angling her body away from mine and turning her head to look out the window again, her wild red locks falling forward to hide her face from my view. My wolf whimpers in my head, and my brows draw together. I thought this was supposed to be easier, I grumble to my Beta, who I know has heard our entire conversation even from several rows back.
For those who understand the mate bond, yes, it is easy, he tells me. After all, he’d met his own mate almost twenty years ago now, and he’d never had to work this hard to make it work. Or maybe it’s because she’s an American.
I huff. It’s not because she’s an American. Someone has hurt her. I could tear them apart for it, too, if only I knew who it had been. I suppose I could start with the two men who were making fun of her through their texts. But this was the way the world was. Those who stood out, who let their light shine through regardless of the teasing it brought them, would only find more pain from those in society. People can be so cruel.
Despite my mate’s distrust of my reason for sitting with her and talking to her, I cannot and would not leave her now. So I remain where I am and try my best not to simply stare at her the entire time. It is a long train ride, over five hours from London to Dundee, and just halfway through it, my ears twitch at the sound of my mate’s stomach rumbling. I wait, watching her to see if she will eat anything. When she doesn’t, I tell Thomas to go to the restaurant to get something for all of us, unwilling to leave her to do so myself.
My Beta drops our things off with me, then makes his way to the restaurant. He comes back with two trays overflowing with food. I am quick to fold down the table between myself and my mate, smiling warmly at her when she looks up in surprise. “Oh dear, Thomas, you seem to have gotten too much food,” I say dramatically as the other man sits down next to me.
“Perhaps your ma- your friend would like to join us for a bite,” Thomas offers with a grin.
I shoot him a glare at the double meaning and look back at my mate. Her stomach gurgles noisily again, but she is trying hard to stare down at her book, pretending to ignore us. I clear my throat loudly. “Madam, would you like something to eat?”
She looks up from her book, nose scrunched adorably. “Madam? Do I look like an old lady?”
Thomas laughs, and I chuckle. “Not at all,” I assure her. “Rather a very beautiful young one.” Her cheeks flare red yet again, and I decide this is something I love about her, even if it means she hadn’t been told nearly enough just how beautiful she truly is. Her eyes roam hungrily over the food, then she looks out the window with a quiet, “No, thank you.”
“Please eat,” I say before my mind can stop my mouth. The plea is as close to begging as I have ever done in my life, but my wolf hovers at the front of my mind, the pair of us prepared to do whatever we must to get our mate to eat lest she starve to death in front of us.
She looks up and meets my gaze, clearly still unsure. Then she looks at Thomas and back to the food before sighing and nodding her agreement to join us. I pluck a full plate from the tray in front of me and set it in front of her before adding a glass of water as well. She smiles then, a little shyly, and reaches for her fork and knife. “Thank you. Thank you both.”
“I’m Cameron Stewart, by the way. And this is my- friend, Thomas Sutton. Thank you for allowing us to join you for lunch.” Finally, I’m able to throw my name out there for her. I’ve been waiting for this moment, and I eagerly await her return of information.
She is clearly unsure about it for a moment before finally swallowing the bite of food in her mouth and saying, “I’m Phoebe.”
I can’t help but grin because how could that name suit her so perfectly? “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Phoebe.” Truly. She has no idea just how long I’ve been waiting for her.
