Alpha's Unbidden Yearning

Chapter 1 - Delaney

"I've been eagerly anticipating this moment all week," Delaney confessed, sinking into the comforting embrace of her worn-out couch in the living room. Although the journey from her home office, which also served as her bedroom in this charmingly shabby apartment, was not arduous, she had learned that appreciating each step helped break up the monotony of the day.

"This? Wine on the couch? We do this every night," her roommate, Ruby, pointed out. Seated cross-legged on the floor, Ruby struggled with the corkscrew in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other, unsuccessfully attempting to free the stubborn cork. Delaney secretly wished for a screw top bottle to avoid any potential eye injuries, but Ruby insisted that corked bottles possessed an air of sophistication. With only two weeks left on their lease, Delaney decided to let her best friend have her way.

"Not every night," Delaney protested, subtly inching away from the direction of the bottle. It was chardonnay, not champagne, so the cork was unlikely to go flying, but she preferred to err on the side of caution. "Most nights. And soon, never again."

"Right. Because the moment we move out of this place, I'll forget who you are," Ruby retorted, rolling her eyes as she successfully extracted the cork. "It's not like you've already memorized my new address. You've probably been there more times than my fiancé, and he's the one paying for it."

"As your best friend, it's my sacred duty to ensure that the mansion he's built for you lives up to your standards," Delaney said solemnly. "Adequate parlors. Sufficient drawing rooms. And so on."

"Indeed. Anything less than three drawing rooms would be an insult," Ruby replied, grinning mischievously. Although her fiancé wasn't as wealthy as Delaney jokingly claimed, the house he was constructing for their future together suggested otherwise. Delaney still had no idea what exactly he did for a living. Selling houses, she presumed, though she struggled to comprehend the intricacies of his profession.

"If that man even dares to suggest that a woman as remarkable as you could be content with a mere three drawing rooms, I'll personally cancel the wedding," Delaney declared.

"What is a drawing room, anyway?" Ruby pondered aloud.

"Not sure," Delaney admitted, retrieving her phone from her pocket. "Ah, here it is. A room used for entertaining visitors."

"I would have expected an award-winning romance novelist to know that without resorting to Google. Isn't that where all the bodice-ripping takes place?"

"No bodices in my books. No drawing rooms either. Too much research required," Delaney replied, grimacing. "Although maybe I should consider switching things up."

"Is business still that bad?" Ruby inquired sympathetically.

"Unfortunately, yes," Delaney confirmed, taking a sip of her wine as Ruby clambered onto the couch beside her. They settled into a comfortable silence as Delaney scrolled through Netflix, searching for a mindlessly entertaining movie they could ignore while indulging in gossip. "I almost applied for a waitressing job today."

"Absolutely not," Ruby interjected sharply. "We made a pact, remember?"

"That's precisely what stopped me," Delaney grinned. She had first met Ruby at the most dreadful job they had ever endured, waiting tables at what could only be described as the most poorly managed restaurant in California. Their friendship had been the silver lining in those grueling six months. At the time, Delaney had been in college, working to alleviate some of the financial burden on her parents. Although the college fund they had painstakingly saved had helped with her tuition, it did little to cover her living expenses.

However, the job was unbearable. Unpredictable hours, customers whose tipping habits seemed directly correlated to the amount of cleavage the waitresses displayed, and a boss who flew into a rage at the slightest provocation—Ruby quickly realized that the meager wages were not worth the torment. It took Delaney a bit longer to reach the same conclusion, but Ruby eventually convinced her. They found a more affordable apartment to share, which proved to be much cheaper than Delaney's overpriced dorm room, and the rest was history.

And now, as Delaney sadly reflected, that chapter of their friendship was nearing its end. They had been roommates for a decade, enduring a string of subpar apartments all across San Diego. Ruby had been there for every milestone in Delaney's life since college—her graduation, the completion of her first book, the countless rejections from publishers and agents, the triumph of her first published novel, and the elation when her career finally took off, allowing her to support herself solely through her passion.Delaney had been Ruby's steadfast companion throughout her extravagant escapades as a San Diego socialite. From the lavish parties she attended to the scandals she found herself entangled in, Delaney had witnessed it all. She had supported Ruby's opulent lifestyle, thanks to a series of sugar daddies who generously funded her endeavors, allowing her to maintain the illusion of grandeur. And when Ruby met the man she believed was her future husband, Delaney was the first person she confided in. Together, they navigated through every setback and celebrated every triumph. It was difficult to fathom that their journey was drawing to a close.

As the trashy romcom flickered on the screen, Ruby turned to Delaney and inquired about her progress in finding a place to live. Delaney hesitated, knowing that her recent applications had been rejected. She mustered a glimmer of hope and replied, "I found several promising options today." Ruby shot her a knowing look, prompting Delaney to relent. "Alright, so the places I applied for last week didn't work out. But I'm still optimistic that—"

"You're always hopeful," Ruby interjected, her voice tinged with caution, a tone that always managed to evoke guilt in Delaney. "But hope doesn't magically make a dire situation better, does it? You can't transform the unaffordable San Diego housing market with positive thinking—"

"You're right, you're right," Delaney conceded with a grimace. "There aren't many places within my budget, and there's fierce competition for those that are. People with stable jobs always appear more favorable on applications. Writing and publishing novels online... it doesn't sound like a reliable source of income, does it? That's why I was considering other job options, just to tide me over."

Ruby pressed on, concern etched on her face. "What will you do if you can't find a place?"

"I'll find something," Delaney replied, her voice laced with determination.

"But what if you can't?"

Delaney winced. Ruby possessed an uncanny ability to penetrate through her habitual optimism and pose the difficult questions. Between the two of them, Ruby had always been the pragmatist—the pessimist, as Delaney occasionally labeled her.

"If I can't find a place, then... I don't know. I have some savings, I could afford a few months in a motel or something—"

"Why don't you consider moving in with your parents for a while until things improve? It's been quite some time since they relocated; surely they're settled enough to offer you a temporary haven."

"Retirement village," Delaney replied, shaking her head. "No spare rooms. Besides, Florida is halfway across the country."

"True, but..." Ruby shrugged. "I mean, your work is all online these days, right? What's keeping you here?"

"I simply enjoy being here," Delaney responded automatically, feeling a sense of unease settling within her. She redirected her attention to the TV screen, where the dashing leading man was engaged in a tormented monologue. "Ah, this is your favorite part!"

"I haven't seen this one," Ruby confessed.

"Of course you have, it's a romantic comedy. This is the moment when—"

"—when a colossal drama unfolds, which could have been effortlessly avoided if any character in the movie had engaged in a five-minute honest conversation," Ruby concluded, a broad grin spreading across her face. "Oh, how I adore it. That's it," she said, shaking her head as the man stormed out of the room, leaving his distraught love interest behind. "Run away instead of seeking her perspective... you don't incorporate such nonsense in your books, do you?"

Delaney shrugged, relieved that she had managed to divert Ruby's attention from the impending homelessness. "Misunderstandings are an integral part of the genre."

"But must they be so absurd?" Ruby impatiently gestured towards the television. "I mean, if he had only allowed her to explain that her initial feelings were pretense but had evolved into genuine affection—"

"—then the movie would conclude within an hour," Delaney interjected.

"Followed by a half-hour-long love scene. Problem solved."

"Lucky girl," Delaney chuckled, taking a sip of her wine.

Ruby snorted. "Lucky for getting just half an hour? That's the bare minimum."

"Not with Spencer. I was fortunate to have ten minutes with Spencer."

Ruby set her wine glass down, picked up a cushion from the couch, and let out a piercing scream into it. Afterward, she took a deep breath to steady herself. "Spencer was despicable," she said with a remarkably composed tone.

"He wasn't that bad."

"He strung you along for an entire year and then broke up with you simply because you raised the topic of commitment. You didn't make a request or demand, just broached the subject. And he dumped you."

"It was more complicated than that," Delaney protested. "He was—I mean, yes, I agree, he treated me horribly," she hastily added, hoping to quell some of the fury emanating from Ruby's eyes, "but he had other issues with his family. I can understand how his mental health might have overwhelmed him—"

"I love you more than anything in this wretched world, Delaney, but if you finish that sentence, I might have to gouge your eyes out. I'm sure you'll comprehend, considering everything I'm going through, with my dearest friend wasting her precious mental energy on empathizing with the worst man alive—"

"Do you really believe he's the worst man alive?"

"No, actually, you're right. That would require putting in some effort. He's simply the most insignificant man on this planet. Pond scum, as I said. Like the residue that accumulates on the surface of stagnant water."

"Exquisite poetry," Delaney remarked.

"Seriously, Delaney."I couldn't help but admire Delaney's ability to empathize with every person she encountered. It was a quality that made her books so captivating, yet it also left me concerned. She seemed to give the benefit of the doubt to so many people who didn't deserve it.

Delaney and I were lounging on the couch, engrossed in a romcom playing on the television. The female lead was caught up in a tearful conversation with her best friend, and I couldn't help but comment on the unnecessary misunderstanding that could have been avoided with a little empathy.

"You're the one who hates misunderstandings in romcoms," I pointed out, nodding towards the screen. "It's frustrating when a simple act of understanding could have prevented all this drama."

Delaney turned to look at me, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "So you're saying she should have read his mind?"

I chuckled and threw a pillow at her playfully. "No, that would have ruined the movie," I replied. "But a little empathy goes a long way, don't you think?"

She wrapped her arms around the cushion and sighed. "You're right. Sometimes, I see the best in people even when they don't deserve it. I guess I'm just a doormat sometimes."

"And that's what I love about you," I said sincerely. "But it would be nice if we could find someone who actually lives up to the potential you see in them. Someone rich as hell, ideally."

Delaney laughed and played along. "Sure, let's aim for the stars. A six-foot-five Adonis with eyes to die for, built like a linebacker, and owning his own tropical island."

I pulled out my phone and started typing, pretending to search for this perfect man. "Tropical island, not subtropical?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

She laughed. "I could settle for subtropical, I suppose."

After a moment, I put my phone down. "Alright, so we're looking for someone built like a bear, not necessarily defined muscles?"

Delaney considered this. "Power is more important to me. I want a guy who can throw me twenty feet without breaking a sweat, even though I hope he never actually would."

I nodded, taking mental notes. "And do we care about what this Adonis does for a living?"

"Not particularly," she replied, leaning into the fantasy. "As long as it's something worthwhile and important. No oil executives or tech billionaires who exploit others."

I wholeheartedly agreed. "Politics, maybe? But nothing too high-up. We want him to be present in our lives, especially if we have kids. Local government sounds ideal, even though it's unlikely to find a millionaire there."

"No realism," I reminded her. "We're in fantasy land here."

Delaney shook her head. "Realism is important, even in fantasy. Flaws make a character relatable. He can't be an impossible, flawless demigod."

I smirked and tapped on my phone. "Unfortunately, there's no drop-down menu for 'flaws' on this app I'm using."

Confusion crossed Delaney's face. "Drop-down menu? Are we writing a shopping list?"

I held up my phone, revealing the pictures of men on the app. "No, we're finding you a husband. Relax, I'm using one of my sock puppets."

Delaney raised an eyebrow. "Your army of fake women?"

I explained how I had created fictional alter-egos to keep tabs on my sugar daddies and test my fiancé's loyalty. She seemed intrigued by the concept.

"Jolene wants a man," I said, pointing at the picture of a bright-eyed woman with curly black hair on my phone screen.Delaney couldn't help but feel a strange sense of unease as she compared her own reflection to the woman in the picture. Their haircuts and colors were eerily similar, but the dissimilarities were stark. The woman in the photo possessed a long, elegant face and piercing blue eyes, a striking contrast to Delaney's round face and dark brown eyes. "You two have a lot in common," Ruby remarked, breaking Delaney from her thoughts.

Curiosity piqued, Delaney leaned forward, studying the unfamiliar app that Ruby was flicking through. "I don't recognize this app. What is it?"

Ruby smirked mischievously. "It's not something you'd typically find on the app store. It's for mail-order brides."

Confusion and concern washed over Delaney. "Mail order... Ruby, what are you signing me up for?"

A playful grin danced across Ruby's lips. "Not you, Jolene. Remember James? I used Jolene as a decoy to test him. He was so worried I would think he was lying about her that I had to confess."

"Confess about all of them?" Delaney asked, unable to hide her surprise.

Ruby's smile held a calculated innocence, one that had shattered countless hearts. "Well, almost all of them. A girl's got to keep a few tricks up her sleeve on the path to the altar, right?"

Delaney conceded, perhaps due to the wine or her own reluctance to revisit her chaotic life. The absurdity of becoming a mail-order bride didn't seem so ridiculous in comparison. She peered over Ruby's shoulder, captivated by this glimpse into the secretive world her friend had kept hidden.

"Some of these guys are quite attractive," Delaney commented, raising an eyebrow as Ruby paused on the profile of a distinguished silver fox. "Do billionaires really struggle to find women in real life?"

Ruby shrugged, nonchalant. "Sometimes. This is a whole different level. Mail-order brides versus sugar babies... I'm just an amateur compared to these women."

Delaney objected, remembering Ruby's tales. "You're far from an amateur."

Ruby shook her head, her voice tinged with self-awareness. "I just bat my eyes at rich men for a night and get my rent paid. This is something else entirely. There's a certain romanticism to it that I could never embrace, deep down."

Delaney was taken aback. "Romantic? Marrying someone for money?"

Ruby took a sip of wine, her eyes lingering over the glass. Delaney held her breath, always fascinated by Ruby's philosophical musings. Her friend rarely spoke about the murky world of taking money from wealthy men, but when she did, it struck a chord within Delaney.

"I think it's more than that," Ruby mused. "If these men wanted sex, they could hire sex workers without hesitation. And if they sought validation, there are countless women like me who would stroke their egos in exchange for material possessions. But they want a wife, Delaney. That's something else entirely. Maybe I'm just being sentimental. Maybe they've turned everything into a transaction."

"Some of them, perhaps," Delaney agreed. "But maybe there are a few out there who are genuinely lonely." She chuckled. "You do know this is a popular genre of romance novels, right?"

Ruby responded dryly, unimpressed. "That doesn't surprise me. Have you ever written one?"

Delaney shook her head. "Never got around to it. But they have quite the following."

"Why not now?" Ruby asked, her gaze fixed on another profile. The man in the picture exuded strength and dominance, holding a baby tenderly as he wore a look of annoyance. It was a captivating image, one that melted Delaney's insides into a warm puddle.

"Well, there's my male lead," Delaney joked, only half-serious.

Ruby winked mischievously. "I'll send you some screenshots if you promise to dedicate the book to me. And don't forget VIP tickets to the premiere and a cameo."

Delaney laughed, and together they returned their attention to the trashy romcom playing in the background. As the couple on screen resolved their differences, Delaney couldn't help but think about the mail-order bride app. Later that night, as she plugged her phone in, she discovered that Ruby had forwarded the screenshots. Delaney read through the profile in bed, the soft glow of the screen illuminating her face. Ruby was right—there was something oddly romantic about marrying a stranger. Maybe she would explore it further, but purely for research purposes. After all, Delaney only wrote about extraordinary romantic adventures. She never expected to live one herself.

Chapter 2 - Walter

The days melded together in a hazy blur, their individuality slipping through Walter's fingers like grains of sand. As he strolled towards the beach from his cozy cottage, a disquieting jolt shook him to his core. He paused at the edge of the tree line, a frown etching itself onto his face as he fruitlessly attempted to retrace his steps. What had he done yesterday? How had he occupied himself all week? Only one event remained firmly lodged in his memory—an uneventful demon attack that had transpired weeks, if not months, ago. Feeble and scrawny demons had launched a feeble assault, easily thwarted by the wolves of Kurivon. It seemed merely a distraction, diverting their attention from an imminent and more substantial attack. Yet, no such onslaught had materialized. The lorekeepers confirmed it—the demonic activity on Kurivon had hit an all-time low since the wolves had first set foot on the island two years prior. The war, for now, had ceased.

Of course, Walter reminded himself, this was a cause for celebration. After the tumultuous years they had endured, this was the best news anyone could hope for. Establishing three distinct wolf packs on a tropical island had proven challenging enough without the constant threat of demonic invasion. A part of Walter had never truly believed they would succeed. He had anticipated conflict between the packs or defeat at the hands of the demons. If he were brutally honest with himself, he had expected to meet his demise long before this semblance of peace was achieved. The ultimate aim of the settlement was to create a harmonious community of wolves who would safeguard the island through their love and unity. He had simply never imagined that he would still be standing when that goal became a reality.

However, he cautioned himself, they couldn't afford to grow complacent. A few months of diminished demonic activity did not signify an end to their troubles. The packs could not lower their guard on the military front simply because they were preoccupied with settling in and forging bonds between one another. Demons reveled in complacency. Ancient tales warned of the dangers of neglecting one's defenses in times of apparent peace. Regular patrols still swept the island, and Walter had taken it upon himself to conduct unofficial checks when he wasn't officially on duty. He had grown so intimate with the contours of Kurivon that he knew them better than the layout of his own cottage.

To be honest, he didn't particularly care for his cottage. He preferred the early days on the island when they slept in tents or huddled on the library floor—the sole building that had stood before their arrival. His cottage felt excessive, almost obscenely indulgent. What purpose did a lone wolf have for such space? A living room, a kitchen, two bathrooms, four bedrooms—it was absurd. He had managed to repurpose one of the spare rooms as a nursery for his baby niece, but the other doors lining the hallway grated on his nerves with each passing. Excessive. Profligate.

But what truly unsettled him was the constant reminder that, unlike most of the island's wolves, he resided there in solitude, and that wouldn't change anytime soon.

The sun blazed brightly as he emerged from the tree line, forcing him to squint and wait for his eyes to adjust to the radiant glare bouncing off the pristine sand. This particular beach was not the only one on Kurivon, but its geography made it the community's favored swimming spot. Two bluffs flanked either end of the crescent-shaped stretch of sand, shielding it from the tempestuous ocean beyond. The waters remained tranquil and serene on all but the stormiest days. It offered a perfect haven for the island's youngest inhabitants to frolic in the water while their parents basked in the sun-soaked sand. As the demonic threat gradually slipped from the forefront of their minds, leisurely activities like these claimed an increasing share of their time.

On a day as radiant and clear as this, it came as no surprise that the beach teemed with a multitude of wolves. Walter hesitated at the edge of the tree line for a moment, a disquieting prickle skittering down his spine. He clenched his teeth, berating himself for his cowardice. Lately, he had grown increasingly uncomfortable in crowds. Absurd, considering his past as the leader of one of Halforst's largest wolf packs—the very world from which the Kurivon packs had emigrated. However, after a clash with his brother that had endangered every wolf on the island and nearly cost them their lives, Walter had relinquished his role as Alpha. Now, his brother Brayden and his soulmate Ellie shouldered the responsibility of leading the newly merged pack.

And where did that leave Walter, he pondered? In theory, he remained an integral part of the pack. His relationship with his brother had significantly improved since the near-catastrophic battle a year ago, and his authority within the pack had been reinstated.Brayden and Ellie treated him as an equal, deferring to his authority, and the rest of the island's wolves still recognized him as the Alpha, especially when it came to military matters and protecting the community. However, deep down, he felt like an outsider among them. He saw himself as a hermit they had taken in, a lonely old man whose presence they tolerated out of pity.

Shaking his head vigorously, he snapped himself out of these self-pitying thoughts. He couldn't believe he had allowed himself to dwell on such pathetic rumination for so long. Being pitied by others was bad enough, but pitying oneself was even worse. He had nothing to be ashamed of. He had spent the past two years defending the community with everything he had, proving it with the fading scars on his body. Not everyone could have the life he saw around him on this beach. Not everyone was destined to have children to frolic with under the warm sunshine, or a soulmate by their side. Knowing that he had played a part in protecting this world was enough to satisfy him.

"Walter!"

He heard his brother's voice and instinctively tensed up. Despite the significant improvement in their relationship over the past year, there was still some resentment lingering in his body. The two of them had been enemies for decades, ever since his twin brother had abandoned their pack to forge his own path. Sometimes, it was hard for him to believe that they were now members of the same pack once again. He made his way across the sandy beach, pausing as a couple of wolf pups ran past, spraying sand all over him. Brayden was grinning widely when he finally reached him.

"It's good to see you enjoying the sun," Brayden remarked.

"Busy out here," he replied. His voice sounded hoarse, and he realized he couldn't recall the last time he had spoken to someone out loud. There wasn't much reason for it when he lived alone, patrolling the island by himself. He cleared his throat, feeling a bit embarrassed, aware of Ellie's penetrating gaze on him.

Ellie had been his lieutenant and protégé for years, serving as his second-in-command. She was one of the bravest and best wolves he had ever known. She also had a knack for sensing when something was bothering him. Of course, she knew better than to pry. She understood him well enough to work around his explosive temper. But in recent months, she had asked him more than a few thinly veiled questions about his happiness on the island. Was that why they had invited him to join them this afternoon? He wondered if he could handle another conversation about how he needed to spend more time socializing with the other wolves of Kurivon. They just didn't understand that he wasn't wired that way. His packmates were his family, and he would die for any one of them without hesitation. But that closeness was something he only experienced during battle. And with the long period of peace they had been enjoying, there hadn't been many opportunities for that kind of bond.

"How's my niece?" he asked abruptly. Ilya was now a little over a year old, a cheerful child with her mother's dark red hair and her father's curls. "Still trying to turn into a dolphin?"

"They managed to catch her," Brayden replied with a grin, gesturing towards a group of the island's youngest residents playing together. Some wolves Walter recognized from Milo's pack were keeping an eye on them. He immediately spotted his niece, her wet hair sticking to her face, a determined expression on her face as she splashed around in a shallow pool that had been dug for the children.

"For now," Ellie said, shaking her head. "I've never seen a kid who loves the water so much. Maybe we shouldn't have spent so much time on boats when I was pregnant," she added, smiling and leaning against Brayden's shoulder. "We'll avoid that next time."

Walter froze. Brayden quickly jumped in. "No news yet. Illy will be an only child for a little while longer, at least."

"For a little while," Ellie said mischievously, her eyes sparkling. "But I have a feeling it won't be long before there's another one on the way." The two of them were in agreement that they wanted a large family, and with the peaceful state of Kurivon, there was no reason not to pursue that dream. "Personally, I'm hoping for twins."

"Well, you definitely have a good chance. It runs in the family," Walter replied, forcing a smile and hoping it didn't look as awkward as he felt. Brayden seemed slightly overwhelmed at the thought of adding two newborns to their family, but the smile on his face when he wrapped an arm around Ellie's shoulders indicated that he was eager to take on the challenge. "At this rate, we're going to be outnumbered," he continued, shading his eyes as he looked across the beach towards the little group of children. "More babies than I can keep up with."

"And more on the way," Brayden agreed with a grin. "I've never seen Milo this excited before. He smiled twice at the Council meeting the other day. Can you believe it?"

Milo, the stoic Alpha of the island's other pack, had recently reunited with his soulmate after a long separation. They would soon be expanding their own family.

"I'm surprised he even showed up," Ellie chuckled. "Venna says he's convinced that if he leaves her side for even thirty seconds, he'll miss the birth."

"He's changed so much since we arrived here," Walter murmured, thinking back to the distant and calculating man he had first met on Halforst, long before they embarked on their mission to settle Kurivon."We all have," Ellie said, a smile tugging at her lips. She glanced up at Brayden, who leaned down to place a tender kiss on the top of her head.

"Some of us more than others," Walter chimed in, attempting to inject humor into the conversation. But the joke fell flat, and he could see the familiar look of pity masked behind his family's eyes. "Not necessarily a bad thing. A bit of steadiness is needed in a world that's changing as rapidly as this one."

Ellie nodded in agreement. "That's true. But Walter, please don't feel obligated to stay stuck in a rut on our account."

Walter replied with a rehearsed phrase, his voice smooth. "I'm happy where I am. Really, I am."

Brayden interjected, his words quick and unconvincing. "Of course you are. But, hypothetically speaking, a wolf who wasn't you might feel a little lonely amidst all these settled families. Especially if he always envisioned that kind of future for himself."

Ellie shot Brayden an exasperated glance, a look that Walter knew all too well from their years of working together. It almost made him laugh.

"As you grow older, things change," Walter said, turning away from them to gaze out over the vast expanse of the ocean. "Every pack has a place for wolves without soulmates or children, and I've come to terms with that."

Brayden pointed out, "Walter, we're the same age. If you start talking like an old man, I'm going to take offense."

"He's right," Ellie added. "You're still young, Walter. Don't count yourself out just yet. Your soulmate could be out there, waiting for you."

Brayden chimed in eagerly, his eyes alight. "Maybe you've already met her, like Milo and Venna. Sometimes it takes time to put the pieces together, you know?"

Ellie shrugged. "It's possible. Or maybe she belongs to one of the packs that haven't joined us yet. There are surely wolves in Torren or Blaine's packs who are still searching."

Walter's suspicion grew as he glanced between them. Ellie and Brayden were the two people who knew him best, and he could sense that they had discussed this topic at length. A distant shiver of revulsion and shame washed over him at the thought of them huddled together at their kitchen table, plotting ways to lift his spirits. He fought to keep his rising anger off his face, resisting the urge to snap at them and retreat into the forest.

"We're just saying, don't give up," Brayden said, sensing Walter's irritation despite his attempts to hide it. "Love has a way of finding you when you least expect it. We're living proof of that."

Walter raised an eyebrow, his jealousy threatening to seep through his carefully crafted facade. He had played a role in Brayden and Ellie's union, arranging a marriage between them as a desperate attempt to unite their warring packs. It had been a reckless decision, one that would have ended in tragedy if not for Ellie's intelligence.

"Well, I'm glad things worked out for both of you," he said, hoping his tone didn't betray his envy. "But let's not forget that your situation was quite unique."

"Nonsense," Brayden replied cheerfully. "Perhaps what this island needs is more arranged marriages."

Ellie rolled her eyes. "We'll get right on that. But the point is, Walter, don't close yourself off before you've met her. You're a good leader and a good man. Illy adores you," she added, a soft smile gracing her lips as she glanced toward her daughter playing on the beach. "There's a woman out there dreaming of you and the family you'll build together. Promise me you won't give up."

Walter grimaced. Ellie had always been able to extract promises from him that no other wolf could. He saw his brother hiding a smug smile as he turned to survey the crowded beach, and he suppressed his irritation once again.

"Fine," he said reluctantly. "I won't vow to a life of solitude, Ellie. But I've made peace with the idea. Maybe you should too."

"Never," Brayden said, surprising him with the seriousness in his voice. "Not until you've met every wolf in this world and the next."

"I'll get right on that," Walter replied dryly. "In the meantime, I'm going for a swim."

His departure was abrupt, and he caught a glimpse of worry on Ellie's face as he headed for the water. But he couldn't help it. If he stayed in that conversation any longer, he knew he would snap at them both. His temper had caused enough trouble with Brayden already. He threw himself into the embrace of the water, diving deeper and deeper, relishing the silence.

There was nothing wrong with being alone. But as he swam further from the shore, he couldn't shake the nagging question. If he truly was content with his solitude, why did he despise discussing it with the people he cared about?

Chapter 3 - Delaney

Delaney had ventured into research rabbit holes in the past, but this was an entirely different level. After her intriguing conversation with Ruby, she discovered several more websites with a similar purpose. Following her best friend's advice on online safety, Delaney discreetly created accounts on all of them. It was astonishing to see the abundance of lonely wealthy men out there. She scrolled through countless profiles, jotting down notes in her trusty notebook. She convinced herself that it was all research for her next book. To her surprise, though, the reality was far more captivating than the fiction she had read in the mail-order bride genre.

This newfound distraction helped alleviate the sadness that loomed over her as their lease came to an end. Ruby was rarely home now, as she moved her belongings into her fiancé's apartment. They planned to stay there until construction on their new home was complete. Delaney tried her best to ignore the melancholy that settled in whenever she emerged from her room. The place felt emptier each time, a far cry from the cozy home they had shared. They had moved numerous times during their tenure as roommates, but this separation felt different. They had never been forced to live apart before.

"I can't believe it's our last weekend," Ruby mused, pouring the wine.

"Our last weekend here," Delaney corrected firmly. "Wine and Trash Night demands only good vibes."

"Fair enough. I won't violate such a sacred institution." They clinked their glasses together solemnly before starting their final trashy rom-com. It would be their last night watching anything together. Over the weekend, they would move most of the furniture into a storage container, including the television. But Delaney refused to let sadness consume her. She also pushed away the stress of being rejected by every apartment she applied to, even the ones she assumed were undesirable.

No stress tonight, she reminded herself, taking quicker sips of her wine than usual. No sadness, no bad vibes.

"I wish you could move in with us," Ruby said, shooting Delaney a glance from the other end of the couch. "Honestly, I'd kick James out in a heartbeat—"

"Absolutely not," Delaney replied firmly. They had discussed this countless times, and she remained resolute. "I'll be third-wheeling your entire marriage, Ruby. I refuse to third-wheel your engagement as well."

"I hate the thought of you staying in some crappy motel," Ruby complained. "The rental market is a complete racket."

"It's only temporary." Earlier that week, when the final wave of rejections came through, Delaney had found a place. It had become clear that she wouldn't secure an apartment in time. "Something will come up."

"And if it doesn't?"

"Then I'll pack myself into a box and mail myself off to some wealthy man in search of a wife." She chuckled, but Ruby regarded her thoughtfully. "I'm joking."

"Why?" her friend asked simply. "It actually sounds like a good idea to me."

"Don't be absurd."

"I mean it." Ruby leaned forward, lowering the volume on the television. Her dark eyes held a serious gaze. "Why waste money on a rundown motel when you could live luxuriously with a man who adores you?"

"Just marry someone for a place to stay? Then divorce him once I find an apartment?"

"Well, yeah," Ruby replied matter-of-factly. "It's just paperwork, babe. It doesn't mean anything. Just make sure you don't sign anything you can't get out of, and you're set. You know contracts better than anyone, right?"

Delaney winced. Ruby was correct—she had become skilled at deciphering contracts in the world of online publishing. However, she couldn't help but feel that marriage contracts were a different beast altogether compared to royalty agreements. "Sure, but—"

"But what? You're always saying you wish you had more adventures, right? You write about this kind of thing all the time. There's nothing in this city that you can't leave behind for a few months. And that includes me," she added quickly as Delaney prepared to protest. "We have phones, we have email. As long as you're back in time to be my maid of honor in a couple of years, we're good. Until then..." She tapped on her phone. "You could be living on a tropical island with a handsome millionaire, or you could settle for a shabby motel with a lumpy mattress and creepy neighbors. Tough choice, I know."

"You can't be serious. I'll end up getting killed."

"Do you honestly think I'd let anything happen to my best friend? There will be safety precautions, Delaney. You'll have a panic button, an escape plan, and I'll check in with you every day—every hour if you want. But that's not what you're afraid of, is it? You're scared of change."

"What else is new?" Delaney said, grimacing at her wine glass.

"Things are changing regardless," Ruby replied, wrapping an arm around Delaney's shoulders and pulling her closer. "And as much as you try to put a positive spin on it, I know when you're feeling down. But if the world is changing anyway...why not take control of it?"

"Most people would just get a drastic haircut," Delaney pointed out, fighting a sense of surrealism. Ruby's words made an odd sort of sense. Was she truly considering this?

"Unfortunately, I've already packed the kitchen scissors," Ruby quipped."Mail-order marriage is the only other option," Ruby declared, breaking the tense atmosphere that had settled between them. Delaney couldn't help but let out a laugh, relieved to alleviate the strangeness of the conversation. She gestured towards herself, feeling self-conscious, and said, "Who would want to mail-order me, anyway?"

Ruby's eyes widened in disbelief. "Are you kidding? You're stunning, for starters. Those eyes, those curls, those curves?" She let out a whistle, causing Delaney to blush with a mix of pleasure and embarrassment. "But it goes beyond looks. You're a writer. Wealthy men love the idea of supporting the arts."

Delaney let out an exasperated sigh. "I write romantic fantasy about werewolves. Hardly the Great American Novel."

Ruby retorted, "I think your readers would disagree. But above all, Delaney, you're a delight. You're like a ray of sunshine in human form. I've said it a thousand times because it's true—the man you marry is going to be the luckiest man on the planet."

"Second luckiest," Delaney responded, tears welling up. "James wins."

Ruby waved her hand dismissively. "Call it a tie. Seriously, babe. Any of these rich fools would be lucky to have you. If you don't believe me, why don't we send an inquiry?"

Delaney paled as Ruby reached for her laptop. "Ruby!"

"Just to prove he'd be interested! You don't have to take it any further after that. I just want to show you that you don't give yourself enough credit." Delaney hesitated, torn, but Ruby was already opening her laptop, her fingers dancing across the keyboard as she activated the privacy settings they had discussed earlier. "I see you've been researching," she pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

"It's for research purposes!" Delaney protested weakly, knowing her excuse held no weight. Ruby snorted in response.

"Yeah, research on your future husband. Now, where's that handsome guy from the tropical island we were looking at?"

Delaney felt her cheeks burn scarlet. "Don't be ridiculous. His profile is probably gone by now." There was no way someone that good-looking would still be available, right? But it didn't take long for Ruby to find it again. And there he was, causing Delaney to lean in closer as she peered at the screen over her friend's shoulder.

"Walter," Ruby elongated the syllables of his name. "I don't think I've ever met a Walter. Oh, it says his brother posted it."

"I know," Delaney replied, clearing her throat. "I read it."

Ruby's grin widened. "Yeah, you definitely read it more than once. A bit of light bedtime reading—"

"Don't be gross," Delaney interrupted, trying to maintain her dignity. "I was just drawing inspiration for a character, that's all."

"Sure you were," Ruby said, her eyes dancing mischievously as she clicked the button at the bottom of Walter's profile. Delaney couldn't deny that she had lingered over that button herself throughout the week, tempted to reach out and confirm if the man on the screen could possibly be real. But she always stopped herself. Yet, as Ruby casually filled in the form, as if she were ordering a pizza, Delaney realized with a rush of excitement that she was glad they were doing this. Ruby had always been the reckless one, but she was also the brave one.

Screw it, Delaney decided, taking a fortifying sip of wine. Why not give it a shot? What was the worst that could happen? She had faced countless rejections from apartments in the past month alone. It would be a refreshing change to be rejected by a man instead. With the forgotten rom-com playing silently in the background, Delaney and Ruby worked together on a message that struck the perfect balance between flirtatious and practical, adventurous and safe. It felt like she was in a strange dream as they gave the application a final proofread. And then Ruby set the laptop on her lap, her eyes sparkling.

"Aren't you going to submit it?"

"It's your application," Delaney replied, shaking her head. "You hit send. I just wanted to force you to say nice things about yourself for half an hour."

Delaney couldn't help but laugh. It had been a peculiar exercise, but oddly affirming. She spent so much of her life finding the silver lining in everything around her, yet she had never applied that same lens to herself. "Well, now that my ego is the size of a building, I guess I don't even need a wealthy husband." For a moment, she hovered over the button that would close the browser and delete the message. That was the sensible thing to do, right? Delete this little exercise in imagination and return to her life—packing up her belongings and preparing for a bleak, uncertain future in a run-down motel. But before she knew it, she moved the mouse back across the screen and hit 'submit'.

Ruby let out a whoop of delight as Delaney sank back into the couch, shocked by her own recklessness but unable to muster any regret. "I can't believe I did that," Delaney murmured, her voice barely audible.

"You're engaged!" Ruby exclaimed, jumping up and down on the couch, causing the old springs to groan in protest. "We need to celebrate!"

"He's not going to respond," Delaney protested, pointing at the underwhelming laptop screen that confirmed the submission of their message. But Ruby's joy was contagious, and soon they were both laughing, planning a destination wedding on a tropical island, and discussing holiday schedules.They had always bantered this way, and it didn't take long for Delaney to almost forget that their jokes stemmed from a genuine submission of interest in an actual man. A man who existed out there on an island in the middle of nowhere...a man with captivating silver eyes and a guarded demeanor that made her crave to unravel the mysteries in his mind. He was the kind of man she had dreamt about her entire life, ever since those lonely teenage years when she poured her romantic fantasies onto paper.

The next morning, Delaney woke up feeling disoriented by the altered view from the floor. Her bedframe was already packed away, tucked safely in storage, leaving her to sleep on the mattress for the remaining days in their current home. An inglorious end, she thought as she sat up, reaching for her phone to silence the alarm.

Blinking away sleep, she tapped on her usual morning apps—messages, social media, a quick glance at her bank account (always disappointing), and finally, her emails. Half a dozen rejections from apartments she knew she had no chance of securing—she deleted those without reading. But the last one...the last one jolted her out of her autopilot routine.

"No way," Delaney whispered, staring at her phone as a sense of surrealism washed over her. "No way, no way, no way..."

The suspicion that it might be some kind of prank lingered even as she tossed her phone aside and grabbed her laptop, eager to properly examine the email. It came from the website Ruby had signed her up for, and although the message made no direct reference to the website's purpose, it informed her that she had a waiting message. That could only mean one thing. Women on the site couldn't be contacted or seen by anyone unless they initiated contact first. And Delaney hadn't reached out to any profiles on the site...until last night.

She quickly scanned the message, her heart pounding as if she had just finished a race. It was Walter's profile, but the first few lines indicated that the man in the photos hadn't actually written the email. A strange twinge of disappointment flickered within her. It was his brother writing on his behalf, just as he had written the profile. He expressed his interest in meeting with her to discuss the proposition further and attached another photo.

Delaney opened it, expecting another candid shot of the broad-shouldered man whose profile she had lingered over, even more than she had admitted to Ruby. Another pang of disappointment...but then her eyes widened at what she saw. A photo of a charming little house nestled amidst lush green vegetation, suggesting a location on the distant tropical island where these men resided. Compared to the motel she was preparing herself for, it looked like paradise.

She slammed the laptop shut, shocked by how easily she had entertained the idea of living there. She must be in a dire state if the prospect of marrying a stranger held more appeal than figuring out her current situation. Unsafe, she scolded herself as she got up and readied herself for the day, trying to push the profile out of her mind. Incredibly unsafe, a surefire way to become one of those women who disappear mysteriously and are never found again. This was all Ruby's fault, she thought irritably, led astray by her reckless friend's wine-induced ideas of adventure.

But no matter how hard she tried, her thoughts returned to the subject. Walter's brother had included his full name and a link to his company's website...there was no harm in taking a quick look, right? Just to satisfy her curiosity. For a moment, she suspected they were playing a prank on her. The link directed her to the website of a New York-based company. She had expected some obscure operation with an unpronounceable name, not a tech company that even she recognized as one of the industry's major players. It had to be some kind of hoax, didn't it?

Frowning, she clicked through the website, searching for any signs of deception. If it was a fake, it was an impressively convincing one. There he was on the staff page, a man with dark hair and silver eyes, grinning confidently at the camera. CEO and founder...she stared at the polished, professional headshot. He was the spitting image of the man from the profile—there was no denying the family resemblance. And yet, this photo lacked the raw magnetism of the ones she had been studying for the past week.

Before she knew it, an hour had passed, and Delaney had delved into Brayden's life and his company. Profiles, interviews, old news articles chronicling the company's growth and success since its humble beginnings...nothing she found online indicated that Brayden was anyone other than who he claimed to be. There was no way he could have fabricated such a convincing paper trail. And if it was somehow fake, why not give the same treatment to his brother? Because when she searched for Walter, she found nothing at all—only a handful of social media profiles belonging to men who shared the same name but possessed different faces.

In the end, she wasn't sure what compelled her to reply to Brayden. Maybe it was curiosity, maybe it was politeness...perhaps, deep down, she harbored a secret desire for something reckless. But when her phone buzzed seconds later with an enthusiastic confirmation of their meeting, Delaney couldn't help but break into a wide smile. Her twenties were quickly slipping away, and she hadn't done anything wild or foolish. No wild parties, no impulsive adventures, no crazy stories to share with her future grandchildren.

Was she really going to let this golden opportunity slip through her fingers?

Chapter 4 - Walter

Walter had a sixth sense when it came to his brother's schemes. Brayden had a way of slipping into a relaxed, nonchalant persona that was a dead giveaway for mischief. Usually, his schemes were harmless enough. The worst had been the surprise party he threw for their last birthday, nearly giving Walter a heart attack as the entire island population jumped out at him on the beach at dusk. But their birthday was months away, so this time, it had to be something else. Something related to their conversation on the beach.

Weeks had passed since that awkward day, and neither Ellie nor Brayden had mentioned the subject again. Walter must have come off ruder than he intended, even after he took a long swim to clear his head. It was a common occurrence for him to seem more formidable or intimidating than he meant to, especially with new people. But Brayden and Ellie were the ones who could see through his facade better than most, or so he thought. Apparently not this time. Well, perhaps they would take it as a warning to steer clear of his personal life. It was hard enough having to witness all the new families in the neighborhood whenever he left the house, let alone constantly discuss it.

However, his suspicion turned to worry when Ellie paid him a visit. It had been a few weeks since their day at the beach, and they had seen less of each other since then. The knock on his front door startled him out of his vaguely meditative trance, and he realized he had no idea how long he had been sitting there on the couch, staring into space. The lack of patrol until tomorrow was the problem. He never knew what to do with himself when he wasn't working, and with so little work available, his free time seemed to stretch endlessly.

"Hi, Walter. Sorry if we've disturbed you," Ellie said as he showed her in.

"It's alright," Walter replied gruffly, stepping back to let her in. He didn't need to admit that she interrupted him zoning out. She had Ilya with her, snugly wrapped against her chest in a sling that left her hands free. The baby was dozing, but her silver eyes opened sleepily and smiled up at Walter when he leaned down to greet her. "What's up? Do you need me to watch her this afternoon?"

It wouldn't be the first time he had been called upon for last-minute babysitting, but Ellie shook her head absentmindedly. She took her usual seat at the kitchen counter as Walter began making tea. Something about her demeanor made him frown, but he kept his curiosity to himself, allowing the silence to settle comfortably between them. He had known Ellie long enough to understand that if something was bothering her, she would bring it up when she was ready. And his suspicions were confirmed when she took a careful sip of her tea, then set it down and closed her eyes.

"I'm wondering if you know what's going on with Brayden," she finally spoke. Her voice was soft and low, the gentle tone she used when her daughter was nearby, but there was an underlying tension. "He's up to something."

"Agreed," Walter replied without hesitation, seeing the relief in her eyes. "I'm afraid I can't provide any more insight than that. To be honest, I thought you were in on it. You usually are."

"I deserve that," Ellie said, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. "I bear partial guilt for the birthday party disaster, and I'll carry it to my grave and beyond, I'm sure. But no, this time I'm just as clueless."

"Strange." Walter furrowed his brow. "My brother isn't foolish enough to keep a secret from you. And he isn't clever enough to keep it for long," he added, earning a soft chuckle from Ellie. "Could it have something to do with the company? Some sort of problem on Earth?"

Brayden had left Halforst when they were both young, determined to forge his own path in the world beyond the portal at Halforst's heart. Ironically, it was that very portal that brought them back together years later, after Brayden had built an impressive empire in this new world and formed his own pack.

The tension between the wolves from Halforst and the wolves from Earth was a thing of the past. They had found a way to embrace their differences, to learn each other's languages. Even Walter had become reasonably fluent in the strange tongue the Earth wolves called English, although he didn't have many opportunities to practice these days.

"It could be," Ellie replied, still troubled. "He's been stepping back a lot since Illy was born. He hardly talks about the company anymore. Although he has been spending more time on the yacht than usual."

Walter frowned. The luxury yacht anchored off the coast of Kurivon was where Brayden had lived for the first year or so of Kurivon's settlement. He had worked tirelessly to balance running his company with the mission on the island. But once he found his soulmate in Ellie, his priorities shifted, and he had less reason to live so close to his office. "What do you think he's up to?"

"I don't know." Ellie sighed. "I mean, I trust him. If there was something wrong, some problem he was dealing with, he would tell me."

"Maybe he's planning a party for you," Walter suggested, but the joke did little to lighten the mood. They agreed to keep a close eye on Brayden and share any information they discovered, though Walter didn't hold high hopes. His brother had always excelled at keeping secrets, with a talent for evading even the most direct questions.Walter's heart raced as another knock echoed through his quiet home. He couldn't help but glance nervously at the cabinet where he kept his weapons. Who could it be? He had just dropped off Illy after a morning of babysitting, and Brayden was supposed to be on his yacht. There was no reason for anyone to be standing on his doorstep at this hour, except to warn him of danger.

With a surge of adrenaline, he swung open the door, only to freeze in shock. Standing before him was a petite woman in a sundress, her hesitant smile a stark contrast against her crimson lips. Walter's eyes widened as he realized he had never seen her before. But it wasn't just her unfamiliar face that threw him off; it was her eyes. They were a deep, rich brown, unlike the silver eyes shared by all the wolves on the island.

"You're Walter, aren't you?" the stranger spoke, her English carrying an accent that hinted at her origins. "It's good to finally meet you."

Walter took a moment to process her words before responding. "Who are you?"

The woman's smile faded slightly, confusion etching lines between her brows. She tilted her head, her black curls framing her face in an elegant cascade. Then, her smile returned, brighter than ever. "I'm Delaney," she said, her voice tinged with amusement. "Your new wife!"

Walter's brow furrowed. That couldn't be right. The word she used had cultural significance in English, but among wolves, the soulmate bond negated the need for any official ceremony. Weddings were reserved for political alliances, not declarations of love. Yet, there was something about this stranger's presence that intrigued him.

"I don't understand," Walter admitted, grappling with the unfamiliar language. "Why are you here? How did you find this place?"

Delaney's smile wavered, her uncertainty mirroring his own. "I arrived last night," she explained, glancing back towards the docks. "I stayed on the yacht, and Brayden rowed me over. Didn't he tell you I was coming?"

A surge of anger coursed through Walter as his brother's name was mentioned. Brayden had a habit of withholding information, and it seemed this time was no different. "No," he replied darkly. "My brother has a knack for keeping secrets."

The realization hit him like a blow to the chest. His brother had orchestrated this meeting, but why? What game was he playing? As Walter shared his confusion with Delaney, he watched her expression shift from hope to disappointment.

"I see," she murmured, her gaze fixed on the ground. "Well, I should go then. Sorry to disturb you." Her voice cracked with forced cheerfulness, and she turned to leave.

But something within Walter stirred, an instinct deeper than thought itself. Without thinking, his hand shot out, gently but firmly grasping her elbow. He couldn't let her go just yet. There was a warmth in her touch, a connection he hadn't felt in years.

"I think you should come in," he said, surprising both himself and Delaney. When had he last invited a stranger into his home? But there was a pull, an unspoken desire to know more about this enigmatic woman.Was it mere curiosity that compelled him to halt her in her tracks? The sight of Delaney's smile returning, despite the lingering uncertainty in her dark eyes, brought him a sense of solace.

He couldn't help but notice her remarkably expressive features as he guided her awkwardly into his home. Her eyes darted incessantly, her lips molding a myriad of smiles in rapid succession. It made him self-conscious about his own stoic countenance, a remnant of the upbringing that had instilled in him the belief that a leader should exude an air of impassivity. However, the rapid changes in the world over the past few years had cast doubt upon the relevance of the traditions he once held dear. Even the language he spoke was evolving, influenced by the bilingual community on the island. In this moment, as he sat with a stranger who appeared visibly concerned at his kitchen counter, he felt grateful for his ability to communicate with her in this unfamiliar tongue. The situation was perplexing enough without resorting to gestures and miming.

"Thank you," Delaney murmured softly as he placed a cup of tea before her. She settled onto the stool he usually reserved for visits from Ellie or Brayden—though she had no way of knowing that. The silence hung heavily in the air, growing thicker with each passing moment.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, he broke the oppressive stillness. "Tell me what Brayden has done."

His words came out more like a command than he intended, causing Delaney to flinch in response. Startling her was not his intention, but anything was preferable to the suffocating silence that enveloped them.

"Um," Delaney winced, muttering something under her breath too quickly for him to catch. Before he could seek clarification, she continued, her gaze fixed on her drink, her cheeks flushing crimson. "You were aware of the profile he created for you online, right?"

"Online," he repeated, narrowing his eyes as he feverishly rummaged through his memories of every tedious conversation he had endured with his brother about technology. "Online is...computers? Or telephones?"

"I'll take that as a 'no,'" Delaney muttered, her words once again slipping into rapid undertones that required him to lean forward to decipher. "Um. Online refers to computers, yes. It encompasses the internet. Never mind," she quickly added, clearly understanding his expression. "To cut a long story short, he said you wanted..." Her voice trailed off, her cheeks growing increasingly scarlet. "This is—the most embarrassing situation I've ever found myself in," she murmured faintly.

"I can empathize," Walter responded stiffly, feeling his hands tighten around his cup as if frozen in place. "Brayden has a knack for placing people in uncomfortable predicaments. It's one of his talents."

"He really didn't mention anything about me? It's been weeks since we first made contact."

Walter shook his head, causing Delaney to bury her face in her hands, narrowly avoiding knocking over her teacup. He caught snippets of her mumbled words, suspecting they were laced with the English language's more colorful profanities. When she looked up at him again, she wore an apologetic expression. "Sorry. This is probably stranger for you than it is for me."

"Perhaps."

"A few days ago, Brayden flew me out from Los Angeles. I changed planes on three different islands before a helicopter dropped me off at his yacht last night. After resting from the journey, he rowed me over to this island, and..." Her eyes narrowed, anger flaring within them for the first time since her arrival. "He had this smirk on his face when he mentioned leaving us alone to get acquainted. It was as if..."

She paused, then twisted her lips into a smirk of her own, almost causing Walter to burst into laughter.

"Not a bad imitation," he conceded, torn between amusement at her impression and the growing fury he felt towards his brother's actions. "So, he simply sent you here to meet me, with the expectation that not only would you visit, but presumably...stay." He gestured towards the suitcase beside her, and she nodded in agreement. "Why?"

The blush on Delaney's face had faded slightly, but he could see it returning. "I hope this will be funny someday," she said quietly, and it was clear that her words were not intended for his benefit. "Walter, I—I'm so sorry. Um. We're married."

"Married," he repeated, deliberately keeping his voice low. A mixture of embarrassment and genuine fear adorned Delaney's face, and he had no desire to exacerbate her discomfort. "You mean..."

"I mean legally married," she clarified hastily. "There were documents and lawyers involved. I'm sorry," she apologized once again. "I thought it was a bit strange that you weren't present, but I never imagined Brayden would arrange a marriage without even informing you—"

A sudden realization struck him like a stone, causing him to grimace. "He would," he muttered tightly, choosing not to delve into the complicated history he shared with his brother in the presence of this near-stranger. "He's exactly the type of person who would orchestrate something like this. His idea of a joke," he muttered, feeling his anger ignite like a blazing fire. "A prank. His way of seeking revenge."

He could envision the smug grin on Brayden's face, could almost hear his mocking laughter. But the image dissolved in the face of a searing pain in his hands. Glancing down, he growled in dismay as he discovered that he had inadvertently cracked his teacup, causing hot liquid to spill across the counter.

With a clatter, he discarded the broken cup into the sink, muttering curses under his breath as he grabbed a cloth to clean up the mess. When he looked up, Delaney had withdrawn into herself, her dark eyes wide with fear. She was frightened of him, he realized with a dull ache. Of course she was. Undoubtedly, she had spent the entire day with his charismatic and charming brother, her hopes soaring for the man she had come here to marry.

Well, he was no one's happily-ever-after. The sooner he escorted her out of here, the better.

Chapter 5 - Delaney

Delaney, at the tender age of fifteen, had scraped together her precious allowance for weeks to purchase a pair of jeans that had captivated her heart during a weekend trip to the mall. They were the most extravagant item she had ever bought, but the moment she laid eyes on them, she knew they were meant to be hers. Standing in front of the changing room mirror, she had felt an undeniable certainty that these jeans would transform her life. With her head held high, she had strutted into school on Monday morning, feeling like a newly crowned queen, basking in the imagined admiration of her classmates.

Or so she had thought. But as first period commenced, a hushed warning from an unknown girl shattered her illusions. It turned out that someone on the bus had stained the seat she sat on, leaving a glaring, crimson mark on her beloved jeans. The stares and whispers she had interpreted as admiration were nothing but cruel mockery. Even after fifteen years, that moment of realization haunted Delaney, keeping her awake at night. Yet, in comparison to her current predicament, she would gladly trade places with her mortified teenage self. Sitting in the imposing kitchen of this gruff and guarded man, with her suitcase by her side, made that fateful day seem like a breeze.

What was she supposed to do now? Her thoughts were scattered, unable to form a coherent plan. Waves of embarrassment continued to disrupt her train of thought. Here she was, in the kitchen of a complete stranger, someone she had introduced herself to as his wife. It was becoming increasingly clear that he had no knowledge of her arrival, nor any interest in finding a spouse. Judging by the solitary state of his home and the expression on his face, it seemed he preferred to be alone. She wanted to call Brayden, but a mere phone call felt insufficient. What she truly desired was to grab this man's shoulders and shake him until he explained his incomprehensible actions. But above all, what she yearned for was the comfort of her blankets, where she could hide until the humiliation claimed her.

Unfortunately, the ground did not open up to swallow her, much to her dismay. Time continued to pass, and she remained seated on a stool in this stranger's welcoming kitchen, observing him clean the spilled tea. As Walter finished wiping the countertop, Delaney took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. She couldn't let herself be consumed by shock; it was up to her to extricate herself from this dreadful situation.

"Thank you for the tea," she said, forcing a smile onto her face that failed to reflect her true emotions. Her parents had always emphasized the importance of smiling, even if it was forced at first. A smile, no matter how artificial, had a way of spreading cheer. "I'll head back to Brayden's yacht. I've already imposed on your time enough."

Walter simply stared at her, unwavering as a mountain. Deciphering his thoughts was no easy feat. Typically, such individuals made her anxious, but for some inexplicable reason, that didn't seem to be the case in this situation. Perhaps the overwhelming horror of it all drowned out any latent social anxiety. Or maybe it was his striking appearance, which she couldn't comprehend but found undeniably attractive. Brayden hadn't exaggerated about his brother's handsomeness, if anything, the photographs didn't do him justice. Focus, she admonished herself, reaching down for her suitcase. This is not a romantic encounter.

As she rose to her feet, already plotting her confrontation with Brayden, Walter cleared his throat behind her. "No need. Sunset is approaching, and you have your belongings. You could stay here, if you'd like." Delaney was taken aback by the unexpected offer, and a fleeting flicker in Walter's eyes made her wonder if he hadn't surprised himself as well. "We can address this with Brayden together in the morning."

"Are you certain?" she asked out of habit. Delaney had grown up around people who made offers that weren't always genuine, requiring a few polite refusals to confirm their sincerity. Ruby, who never made an insincere offer, found this concept utterly exasperating. Judging by the look of puzzlement on Walter's face, Delaney deduced that he shared a similar perspective to her best friend. "I mean, I've already imposed on you so much—"

"Exactly," Walter replied with a nonchalant shrug. "Since you're already here, you might as well stay. There are two spare rooms upstairs," he gestured towards the end of the hallway, where polished wooden steps led to an upper landing. "One is a nursery, but the other has a bed prepared."

"Oh?" Her heart fluttered as she recalled the photograph of Walter cradling a baby in his massive hands. It suddenly felt wrong to have seen that side of him now that she knew it wasn't posted with his consent. "Do you have children?"

"No," he grumbled, his voice retaining its characteristic gruffness. However, there was a subtle softening in his expression as he continued. "But my niece sometimes stays over."

Delaney couldn't resist her curiosity. "What's her name?"

"Ilya." He appeared slightly taken aback by her interest. "She's not here," he clarified. "So, you won't be disturbed by any crying, if that's what you're concerned about—"

"No, I was just curious," she replied, blushing. "It's very kind of you to let me stay. Thank you."

"It's the least I can do," he said, his expression darkening. "Considering how you've been treated."

"It's not your fault. Your brother—"

"—is my brother, and I share his responsibilities as well as my own," he declared with an air of finality, as though closing the argument. "We'll dine, and you can tell me more about Brayden's actions. Together, we'll devise a plan to undo what he has done and return you to where you belong."

Where she belonged, Delaney pondered, battling an inexplicable sense of disappointment as Walter took her suitcase and headed towards the stairs.And in which corner of the world did she find herself now? She hadn't made any arrangements for a new place back home—most of her belongings were stored away, except for the few essentials she had packed in the suitcase that Walter was holding as if it weighed nothing at all. Now that she had actually left the city, going back felt arbitrary and strange.

But staying with Walter was out of the question, regardless of what his brother had promised her. The situation was already difficult enough without adding an extended stay with an unwilling stranger to the mix. She reassured herself that it was kind of him to invite her for one night as Walter left her and her suitcase in the guest bedroom. Gratitude for what she had, not longing for what she didn't, had always been her motto. And what she had right now was a comfortable-looking bed in a charming little cottage on a tropical paradise. Sure, she wouldn't be staying as long as she had hoped, but she might as well enjoy the time she had here. Yes, the recent conversation had been one of the most humiliating experiences of her life, but it wasn't every day that she got to visit a tropical island. At the very least, she would have quite a story to tell Ruby.

Speaking of Ruby, she frowned down at her phone. No service on the island. Brayden had warned her about that. At least there was Wi-Fi, though it was frustratingly slow. Delaney quickly sent a brief email to Ruby, assuring her that she was still alive and promising a more detailed update later. Then she headed back downstairs. There was a part of her that worried Walter might have changed his mind about letting her stay. He had made it clear that he was angry with his brother, not her, but she had always taken other people's bad moods personally.

In the hallway, she paused for a moment, curious to observe Walter in his natural environment. He was in the kitchen, methodically chopping onions with his captivating silver eyes fixed on the task at hand. He hadn't noticed her, and Delaney allowed her gaze to roam across his body in a way she wouldn't have dared if he had been looking back at her. She lingered on his broad shoulders, marveling at the lines of his powerful frame. Had she ever met someone who looked like him? He seemed almost unreal, like a character from a cartoon, but that comparison fell short. Cartoon characters were shallow, but there was something deeper about Walter. It was as if he had his own gravitational field, pulling everything toward him.

Suddenly, Delaney realized that Walter's silver eyes were no longer focused elsewhere. He was looking straight back at her, his face open, one eyebrow slightly raised in a mix of curiosity and challenge. For a moment, she froze, a strange sensation shooting down her spine, reminiscent of when he had reached out to catch her elbow earlier. In that moment, her mind went blank.

Then, a sound broke the silence, shattering the eerie stillness between them. Delaney cleared her throat and lowered her head, allowing her hair to fall into her face in an attempt to hide the blush creeping up her cheeks. Walter turned back to the stove, where something was starting to sizzle. When he glanced back a few moments later, his face was once again impassive, leaving Delaney wondering if she had imagined that frozen moment they had shared.

"What's that?" he asked, nodding towards her. Delaney blinked in surprise, noticing for the first time that she was still holding the bottle of wine. She was relieved she hadn't dropped it absentmindedly—this bottle seemed more expensive than what she was used to.

"Brayden sent it with me," she explained, placing it on the kitchen counter for Walter to see. His expression darkened, and Delaney decided against mentioning that his brother had referred to it as a wedding gift. "We don't have to drink it if—"

"Oh, we'll be drinking it," Walter said grimly, his tone foreboding. Delaney couldn't help but giggle. "What?"

"Sorry. It's just...that was an incredibly menacing way to describe sharing a bottle of wine."

A small crease appeared between his brows. "I apologize."

"No need." She stepped into the kitchen, her curiosity piqued by the pan of stir-fried vegetables sizzling on the stove. "Can I help with anything?"

"Leave that alone," Walter snapped sharply, his voice filling the space with urgency and authority, causing her to instinctively recoil from the pan she had been reaching for before her mind could process the command. "I have a specific way of doing things."

"Understood," Delaney replied, fighting the urge to laugh again. Perhaps she was in shock, she thought faintly. Maybe everything was finally catching up with her. "I'll stay out of the way, then."

"I think that would be best."

It had been a while since anyone had cooked for her. Ruby was notorious for avoiding any meal that required more effort than using a microwave, and none of the men she had dated had shown much interest in putting in extra effort beyond showing up for their dates. Delaney watched Walter's careful and meticulous cooking process, each ingredient added to the pan with precision. She found herself just as fascinated by his movements as she was by his appearance. If he was aware of her scrutiny, he didn't show it. Eventually, he assigned her the task of fetching two glasses and a corkscrew for the wine. Hoping she appeared more composed than she felt—she had discovered through a quick Google search that the bottle in her hands cost more than what she had paid for her last apartment's security deposit—Delaney poured them each a glass and joined Walter at the dining table. He had placed their plates down and was waiting awkwardly by the table.

"I don't think I've ever sat here before," he remarked as they settled into their seats. Delaney blinked.

"Really?"

"I usually eat alone. There's rarely a need to use the entire table."

"That's a shame." Her stomach had been growling since the tantalizing aroma of the meal had first reached her, and Delaney hoped it wouldn't come across as rude if she dug in right away. The first spoonful made her close her eyes momentarily, suppressing the urge to moan in delight. "Walter, this is incredible."

"It is?" he sounded genuinely surprised.

"It absolutely is," she affirmed, taking another mouthful as Walter sipped his wine."Seriously? You've never cooked for a date before?" Delaney's incredulous tone filled the air, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

"No," Walter replied, his response accompanied by a momentary pause. "I don't...date." The way he pronounced the word 'date' with a touch of ginger made Delaney smile. "Though I suppose my brother told you that."

"Yeah. Sorry," she winced, regretting her knowledge of his personal life. "I feel like I know more about you than I should." An idea struck her, prompting her to pull out her phone. "Do you want me to show you the profile Brayden made? Then you'll know exactly how much you should yell at him."

"Profile," Walter repeated, his eyes narrowing. Delaney retrieved the screenshots she had saved, feeling a strange sense of detachment as she recalled the last time she had looked at them. It was during that helicopter ride, the sun's glare on the ocean blinding her as she scrolled through Walter's profile, reminding herself of the absurdity of her journey. Handing the phone to Walter, she sipped her wine while he scowled down at it. The delicate device appeared almost fragile in his massive hands, confirming her suspicion that he was not one to dabble much in technology. His scowl deepened as he read, and a vein pulsated in his temple by the time he handed the phone back to her.

"Family, huh?" Delaney said softly, eager to break the ominous silence that had descended.

"This is..." Walter's breath hissed through his teeth. "My brother has truly outdone himself."

"Wine," she said firmly, raising her glass and tapping it against his. "Wine heals all wounds, that's what my best friend always says." Walter didn't seem entirely convinced, but they both took a sip anyway. Despite the tense atmosphere, Delaney couldn't help but appreciate the exquisite taste of the wine. She would have to admit to Ruby that expensive wine was indeed worth the trouble. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"About my brother meddling in my life?"

"Yeah. This seems like the kind of thing it might help to vent to a stranger about. Does he do this kind of thing a lot?"

"It's a complicated story."

Delaney smiled. "That's my favorite kind."

Surprisingly, the conversation drew her in deeply. Walter was guarded, slow to speak, and each word he uttered seemed to emerge from a great distance, carefully chosen before escaping his lips. But this resistance made him an enthralling storyteller, and as he delved into the narrative, aided by the wine they quickly finished off, some of his hesitation faded away. He shared stories of his brother, their tumultuous relationship during their formative years, a long and bitter separation, and a recent reconciliation. Delaney had to suppress her urge to bombard him with questions, her curiosity ignited by the gaps in his tale. It was clear that he and Brayden had grown up in another country, but where exactly? He never mentioned the place, and she still couldn't pinpoint his accent. He spoke of leadership and responsibility frequently—did Walter also run a company? However, he didn't strike her as the corporate type. If anything, he exuded the bearing and demeanor of a soldier. A military career would make sense. It would explain his physique, his commanding presence, his effortless authority...but something about that didn't quite fit either. Ruby had a few officers among her regular clients, but none of them resembled Walter. In fact, Walter was unlike anyone she had ever encountered.

"What are you going to do?" Delaney finally asked when he fell into a silence that signaled the end of his story, at least for now.

"I'll ensure your safe return to your home," he replied grimly, not bothering to look up. "And then I'll speak to my brother."

"In his defense..." Walter's expression immediately darkened, causing Delaney to recoil. "I mean, he's obviously in the wrong here. He shouldn't have violated your privacy like that. He definitely shouldn't have sent some strange woman to your house." Her words prompted the faintest hint of a smile from him, emboldening her to continue. "But, if we try to see it from his perspective, I think he was trying to do something nice."

"Nice." The word dripped with disdain as Walter uttered it. Delaney pressed on.

"I mean, you told me that in the last few years he's fallen in love and started a family. His life has changed dramatically. He's happy, right? It sounds like he wants that for you too."

"So he meddles in my life? Shares my personal business with the entire damned world? Sends a stranger to my house to intrude on my peace?" Walter's fists clenched, and Delaney instinctively reached out to move his wine glass away from the table's edge.

"Like I said, he shouldn't have done it," she said cautiously, her heart pounding in her chest.

"So why defend him?" Walter snapped, his silver eyes suddenly piercing through her, stealing her breath. "Why justify his actions?"

"Sorry. It's what I do," she replied, feeling a cold weight settle in her stomach as she realized she had overstepped. "I don't mean to imply that he was right in any way. I just...I find that I have a better time when I try to understand why people act the way they do. Otherwise, the world is just...horrible for no reason."

Walter looked at her intently for a long moment. Despite her unease at having offended him, she couldn't help but marvel at the feeling of being truly listened to. "Thank you for your perspective," he finally said, his tone softer than she had expected.

"Well, thank you for cooking," she said, gesturing with a half-smile at her empty plate. "And for your hospitality. This is probably the best date I've ever been on." She had intended it as a joke, but as the words left her lips, she cringed inwardly. "Wow. There it is, the saddest thing I've ever said." Walter looked at her uncertainly, clearly unsure of how to respond, and she cleared her throat and rose from her seat, suddenly desperate to leave the room before she made a bigger fool of herself. Muttering a hasty thank you for dinner, she made her way up the stairs, barely suppressing the urge to climb them three at a time. Finally, she found herself back in the guest room, able to breathe once more.

Well, that had been an absolute disaster, she thought faintly. She had barged into this man's life without warning, declared herself to be his wife, devoured his food, and defended the person who had caused this entire wretched situation. It was a wonder Walter hadn't dragged her down to the docks and rowed her back to the yacht himself. Yet as she settled into the unfamiliar yet cozy bed, she couldn't help but let a faint, giddy smile grace her lips. Because as sad as it was, she hadn't been lying.

This catastrophic evening had genuinely turned out to be the best date of her life.

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