Chapter 47

Elena

Killian was in a mood.

He did not receive the news of Natalie’s secret life very well, and after some very pointed and explicit questioning of my morals and intelligence and the state of my mental health, he was silent.

Before the trip, a list had been made of non-corporate restaurants and lodgings to visit along the way. I had agreed that I would allow Killian one picture of me at each spot to be used for the campaign, in the hope that supporting small businesses would boost his appeal. I hated to admit that it was a great plan, and I despised hotels anyway.

There was a Bed & Breakfast that seemed passable that we would reach by nightfall if we kept on schedule. Jaxon had made the trip in two days, but I expected it might take us three. Though now that Killian was mad at me, we might not be making pitstops for side quests along our road trip. He might want to get to see Natalie as soon as possible.

The place was called The Weary Traveler Inn, a three-story house with a bit of a Celtic aura without feeling overdone. A plaque next to the front door showed that it belonged to the Registry of Hospitality and Fine Dining, therefore protected by the Alpha Alliance.

Pack lines disappeared in here, and an agreement of neutrality was signed along with security deposits. This was a place where we were all meant to take a load off and relax and interact with each other as equals. But that could be easier said than done.

“Dinner is served until ten p.m, so I’d shake a leg if you can,” the kind old woman said at the front desk. Her name said Rhoda, and her eyes were just beginning to cloud with cataracts. “It’s a nice community thing we try to encourage our guests to partake in.”

“That sounds admirable,” Killian said.

He sounded cheerful, clearly putting on an act to avoid bringing the drama from the car into the lobby of this establishment. I had to respect that in him, and did my best to seem casual and gracious to our host.

“Breakfast is light in the morning, coffee and the like,” Rhoda continued, “but if you are wanting something more, with notice we can see what we can whip up. We go by the farm seasons, but eggs are always on the menu.”

She was sweet, and did make me feel more comfortable about sharing a room with my agitated husband.

We were brought to a room at the back of the building on the second floor. It had a large bathroom with a clawfoot tub, and a smaller room used as a parlor of sorts.

“The Honeymoon Suite,” Rhoda said with a wink as she opened the door.

I suspected Killian had mentioned this ‘renewal’ of our relationship when he called that afternoon while we were stopped for gas and a quick lunch. I just smiled at the older woman as I walked past her into the room.

The room had deep wood wainscoting under a light green wallpaper all throughout, and frosted glass chandeliers hung elegantly in choice areas. The four-post bed was topped with a high mattress and plush bedsheets. There was a comforting scent, lavender maybe, that was being diffused somewhere.

It did feel rather romantic.

But when we were left alone, the room felt suffocating. Killian paced about, checking out the details of the room as if he thought moving an object might open a secret passageway.

“We should probably go to dinner,” I said, seeing that it was almost nine o’clock.

“I’m not hungry,” he responded, still distracted.

“Killian,” I said sharply to get his attention. “You have to eat.”

He stared at me, so much conflict in his eyes, but I couldn’t decipher his thoughts.

“Go,” he said, looking away. “I'll meet you down there shortly.”

I just nodded. I washed my hands and pressed my cold fingers to my face and the back of my neck. I desperately wanted to be fully clean from a day sitting in the recycled air of the car, but my stomach was demanding attention first.

Right before I left the suite, I saw Killian carry a blanket from the bedroom to the parlor. It seemed he was planning to sleep on the couch.

The dining room took up about half of the first floor. There was a bar and a smattering of tables, and the space could probably hold fifty people on a busy night.

It was mostly single men at the bar.A middle-aged couple sat across the room on the back wall near the door to the kitchen. A family with two bored teenaged children were all quiet and mostly glued to their phones.

I chose a small table in the corner between the bar and the door, hoping it would give me a good vantage point of the room.

A waif of a girl came by to take my order, and I asked for a salad and a burger. I was famished, and the smell of the grill in the back had my mouth watering for greasy beaf and cheese.

Before she walked away I remembered Killian.

“My husband will be down shortly,” I told her, “can you delay a second plate by about fifteen minutes? I just don’t want him to miss out.”

She smiled, and shuffled off to the kitchen. Even with my mixed feelings for the man, I knew he would only be worse company if he missed a meal.

I took in the biosphere I was in, making up small backstories for these strangers. It took me a moment to clock that a man had walked up to my table until he was taking the chair next to me and sitting down.

“Good evening,” he grumbled in a gravelly voice. He had brought his stein of some bitter beer over with him. “What’s a pretty lady like you doing here all alone? Not traveling solo, are you?”

I was immediately repulsed by him, and wondered how many of those vessels he drained that gave him the courage to approach me like that.

But then, he had no idea that I was a Luna, nor would that matter too much given our location. Either way, I checked around the room the see if anyone was watching us. The bartender nodded his head at me, and the mother across the room had looked up from her phone to observe how it would unfold.

“No, I’m waiting for my husband,” I told him, closing myself off a bit more from the space he was taking up.

“Husband, huh? I don’t know if I believe you,” he said as he picked up my hand, displaying my empty fingers. “I don’t see a ring, so maybe there isn’t a husband either.”

Damn. I had taken my ring off in the bathroom, and I must have left it by the sink.

“I think our binding contract and vows solidify our marriage, not a piece of jewelry,” I told the stranger. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone for now.”

“Are you kicking me out? Is this your table, your bar?”

“No, I just—“

“Seems like you think you can tell a person what to do, like someone died and made you queen of everything.”

He was getting annoyed, and spit was forming at the corners of his mouth. The raising of his voice was attracting more attention, including from what turned out to be his ally at the bar.

“Jameson, you hear this?” My visitor turned to call over his comrade. “We try to come to a nice, neutral place, build a little community, and this stuck-up ice queen wants to ruin it all.”

“Now that’s not very—“ Jameson stopped in his tracks, and pointed at me. “Wait, I know you. I saw your picture somewhere.”

“Oh, so the princess is famous, too,” the other man said.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Jameson snapped his fingers. “Weren’t you caught having an affair with an Alpha that was yours? Shoot, are you up here hiding, or looking for your next score?”

The two men laughed together, starting to take up too much air in the room.

“Don’t be disgusting,” I said firmly, pulling my chair away from the table. “That picture was a slanderous lie and attempt to pull focus on the good work my husband does. They mean to discredit him and me.”

I stood from the table and tried to move around it, but Jameson stood in my path.

“Oh, I’d like to discredit you, Luna,” he said, leaning in so close that I could smell his breath. “I’ll bend you over that bar and discredit you in front of everyone. Or do you only like to be an Alpha’s Whore.”

I felt the impulse to punch his stupid face, but didn’t get the chance.

Before I could move, Jameson swung around in the other direction. His head then snapped quickly to the side as he was punched in the face by a man who had just walked in to overhear the words he’d said.

Jameson fell into a chair at the table, giving me a clear few of his assailants.

It was my husband.