Getting away with the Alpha's Pup

Chapter 11

Cherry

It was the day before the Moon Ceremony, and I felt sick to my core. Apprehension was wreaking havoc on my body. Inwardly, I chided myself. Why had I left it until the last minute to leave?

But the logical reasons for doing so came to my rescue. These reasons had become something of a mantra for me over the last few days. As I packed the last of my stuff into the small carry-on suitcase, I reminded myself of them. Today’s flight from Seattle had been the cheapest I could find by far. On top of that, the scholarship I’d been lucky enough to be awarded for my tuition abroad would only start in the fall. Until then, I’d have to find a job for my living expenses. I had a small amount of savings that would give me a few weeks in a cheap backpacker’s hostel in Berlin until I secured a job, but it was hardly much. So, it had been safer to wait until the last minute. The worst-case scenario was that I had to live in a hostel for the summer months and work at whatever job I found before my course started.

But as I zipped up my case, logic couldn’t defeat the rising tide of worry surging through me. I pictured how upset my dad would be when he found out I’d gone. I smothered the image of him looking dapper in his suit for the ceremony that he’d shown me the last time I’d visited him. I remembered the joy in his voice as he’d told me he had his speech prepared, but I wasn’t to worry; there were only a few embarrassing stories.

Emotion caught in my throat as my gaze swung to my dress: the beautiful silver dress on the hanger, suspended from the top of the wardrobe. Heather’s dress. The one that she’d worn to her own Moon Ceremony and I’d worn to Chris’s birthday. Inevitably, my thoughts skipped to Dylan, back to when each of his caresses had seemed to burn through the fabric and set my body alight.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, shaking away the heady feeling that those memories always conjured. I had to leave. He hadn’t once alluded to the night of passion we’d shared. Not since the morning after when he’d said it was a drunken mistake. Hell, he’d said he didn’t even remember the night. Something that had meant I’d never bring it up again because the truth was mortifying. While he didn’t even remember it, I couldn’t forget it. Every time I thought about it, my throat went dry, and my stomach tightened with longing.

Ignoring the awful sinking feeling in my chest, I dragged the suitcase off of the bed and hurried out. I closed the front door, deliberately leaving my set of keys in the bowl. All the while, the gnawing in the pit of my stomach worsened.

I tried to distract myself with thoughts of the future. I was off to lead the life I wanted. I had been accepted to study Fashion Design at one of the most prestigious universities in Berlin. I imagined a future where my designs were worn by real models at Europe’s fashion shows. As I went to the car, I tried to emulate the unencumbered gait I’d watched those women strut down the catwalk. I tried to channel their confidence in an attempt to vanquish the doubt threatening to bubble up.

The car’s boot was full of old portfolios and fabrics that needed clearing out. I’d ask my dad to take them and my car back from the airport later when I called him from Berlin. I opted to put my suitcase in the backseat before throwing the door shut. When I climbed into the front, my heart was in my throat, my pulse drumming in my ears.

I exhaled slowly before inhaling in the same way. In and out. In and out. Then, key in the ignition and foot on the accelerator, I drove.

I focused on the dirt track, snaking through the lush pastures of Lord Hills. Everything was on the cusp of summer: the tall grasses drinking in the bright sunshine, the scent of flowering blossom in the hedgerows rich and fragrant. A flash of tomorrow’s ceremony skipped through my head. I could picture the moonlight beating down on Dylan and me, surrounded by our pack, exchanging our vows and binding ourselves to one another.

My wolf seemed to whine at the thought of what I was leaving behind, and just as I neared the end of the dirt track, where the two guards stood watch, sickness surged up. Swiftly, I stopped the car, wrenched open my door, and then vomited.

As I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, gasping for breath, I heard hurried footsteps. “Cherry, are you all right?” One of the guards asked.

So much for my plan to act normally as I passed them. Ordinarily, I just drove past the guards with a wave, frequently going by to visit my dad in Seattle. My plan had been to do the usual, but puking on the path was hardly normal.

I met Rich’s concerned gaze as he came closer to me. “I’m fine. I think Dylan and I overdid it last night with the wine,” I lied, hoping Rich would settle for the explanation.

But his green gaze filled with concern as he looked over my face. I could tell he wasn’t convinced, and I felt my panic rising as Sam, the other guard, moved forward too.