Chapter 28

Sarah POV

This was getting ridiculous.

It was almost 2 a.m., and I was just staring at the back of my eyelids.

The entire day had been impossible, and I loved it. Losing the bracelet, getting the bracelet back, who could have foreseen so much? And a picnic in the park with a magician to boot! Not to mention facing off against a werewolf mother who didn’t know how to raise her idiot son.

I was also worried about rolling over in my sleep because I couldn’t make myself take the bracelet off. Seriously, was I twelve? Chloe had made me things before, nice things, though nothing from such expensive materials, but what difference did that make?

Well, that drawing of you from a few days ago was nice, my traitorous brain said, but an alpha werewolf didn’t dive into the lake to retrieve it, did he?

The girls were dead to the world beside me, so it wasn’t too difficult to slip out of bed without rousing them and slip on my robe. It was incredibly quiet. At my apartment, day or night, it was noisy with traffic.

This “villa” sat on several acres, and at night after the crickets calmed down, there was nothing. My ears roared a bit with it. I heard my own heartbeat as I walked as quietly as I could from the room and shut the door behind me.

Down the hall, I saw the kitchen light on, which was odd. The housekeeper should have turned it off. In the kitchen, I saw nothing but the spotless counters and sink and appliances, all gleaming in the light of the bulbs over the stove. I got a glass and filled it with water, then walked on quiet bare feet to the smaller dining room, thinking I would sit by myself for a minute and just unwind.

So, naturally, Zane was there, dressed in a robe, pajamas, and slippers with seven bottles of opened wine on the table before him. I halted in the doorway holding my glass of water and just staring.

He looked up at me, smiled, and then laughed. “No,” he assured me. “I’m not an alcoholic. Come, have a seat.” He gestured at the seat to his left.

I nodded slowly, and then walked over and sat. This should be good.

“I have a cousin with a vineyard,” he explained. “Moonstone Vineyards. They’re quite well known.”

“They are,” I said. “I bought some of their merlot as a present for a friend a few months back.”

He smiled, obviously pleased, and waved at the bottles. “This is this year’s selection. Thomas has asked for my opinion and, of course, my endorsement. Would you like to try some?”

“I don’t drink,” I said, trying not to some prim.

“No?”

“No.” I looked down at my water glass and took a sip. “I was just at the human legal drinking age when Chloe came into my life, and I knew if anyone ever found me intoxicated, it would be reported.”

I looked up into his sympathetic eyes and shrugged. “I didn’t mind.”

“It was still good of you,” he said. Then his blue eyes took on a hint of mischief. “That can’t happen now. Want to try some?”

I looked at the bottles and realized that, yes, I did, and I said so. I had always been curious. And I wasn’t going to tell him about the few sips of beer or champagne I’d had from friends before I was of legal age. They had done nothing except make my stomach a little warm.

What was it like to have a full glass, especially of something as nice as a bottle from Moonstone Vineyards?

Zane looked happy, which meant I’d made the right call.

“Great,” he said, then looked around and stood up. I wondered if I had offended him, but he was only getting another wine glass from the sideboard. He returned, set it lightly down, and then selected a bottle to pour just a little in the glass.

“This is a Chardonnay,” he said. “It’s the world’s most popular white wine, and like cheddar cheese, the world’s most popular cheese, is has something to please everyone.” He poured a little into his glass as well.

I took the wine glass and watched, mimicking him as he swirled the wine, sniffed it, looked at it in the light, sniffed it again, and then drank it.

It was nice, I decided, light and refreshing.

“Chardonnay is made from green-skinned grapes that grow in a variety of climates,” he continued. “So Chardonnay can be oaky, buttery, or crisp and clean. Spanish Chardonnays tend to have a citrus tang to them, which not everyone likes, and French Chardonnays tend to be a little flat to people who’ve gotten used to California Chardonnays.”

He paused, and I recognized the test for what it was. I thought about how the wine had felt on my tongue.

“Your cousin’s vineyard is in California?” I asked.

“Well done,” he said, saluting me with his empty wine glass, then making a show of being surprised it was empty and pointing at some Saltine crackers I hadn’t realized before were on the table.

“Clear your palette,” he instructed, and we both munched on a cracker.

“Now, this wine,” he continued, reaching for another bottle, “is a Pinot Grigio. I’m sure you will not be surprised to learn it is part of the Pinot family.”

I feigned surprise and hoped it tasted as good as the Chardonnay had.

“Pinot Grigio another white wine, as you can see. It’s widely grown in Italy, particularly in Lombardy, the Veneto, and Friuli, but the grape originated from France, where it’s known as Pinot Gris. This is a drier wine than the Chardonnay.” He poured a bit.

“It’s nice,” I said. “A little tingly on the tongue.”

He nodded as though I had said something worthwhile. “Do you taste any other fruit than grapes?”

I thought about it, then sipped and finished the little sample. “Apricot? And maybe a little lemon?”

“Very good!” he said and smiled. “It’s exceptional this year, I think. I’m going to tell Geo that.”

“Geo?”

“My cousin, though his real name is Frank. Can you believe it? Naming a child who’s set to inherit a vineyard Frank? Everyone calls him Geo.”

I laughed.

“Would you like to try a red wine next?” he asked, and we both ate a cracker.

“Why not?” I asked, feeling a little bold.

“This is a merlot, which I confess I enjoy very much. It’s soft and velvety for a red, with nicely soft tannins. Some reds can really strip your throat with their harshness.”

He pulled me a generous amount, then showed me how to hold the wine up to see its “legs.” Then he sipped a little, and I downed the whole glass.

He looked at me in surprise.

“It was really good,” I said, feeling a little defensive. “It tasted like chocolate apricots.” I held out my glass for more.

He chuckled. “I’m glad you like it, but maybe that’s enough for now.”

I pouted. Chloe got that expression from somewhere, didn’t she?

He looked at the bottle and seemed surprised by something. I was just mad there didn’t seem to be much left. I really liked this whole wine business.

“You’re a bully,” I said. “Not giving me more wine, making me sign that stupid contract.”

He looked surprised, but I didn’t care. In fact, I was beginning to realize I didn’t care about much at all. I laughed. “Actually making me sign a contract that I can’t seduce someone—who does that? And then you jump in a lake to get my bracelet back.”

I stood, which didn’t go as steadily as I would have liked. But it didn’t matter. “What am I supposed to think when some alpha goes into a lake to get my bracelet back? Am I not supposed to notice how nice that is? How, well, nice?”

“Sarah,” he said, and his voice was all chocolate and apricots, just like the merlot.

I wanted him closer and grabbed him by his shirt or collar or whatever and sat on his lap. It was the best place to sit so I could look into his eyes.

“Sarah, what’s not fair?” he asked, and his voice was as soft as rose petals.

I felt my lips pulled back, bared my teeth, and bit down on Zane’s throat.

And then, well, I don’t really remember what happened next.