Chapter Six
Cricket stepped out of the Bentley in as casual of clothing as she’d ever been in. Figuring the normal clothing she wore wouldn’t be well received in a forest setting, she’d chosen faded jeans and a t-shirt, but both still cost far more than she cared to know. There were no limits on money for the Snapdragon family, so she’d never thought too much about it, not until she realized she didn’t want to flaunt her wealth here. She wanted to be more approachable, less sparkly, but that was a silly thing to hope for when her wings literally glittered in the sunlight.
Putting her wings away behind a glamour that made her itch after a quick release—the ride had been long—Cricket rolled her shoulders, preparing herself for whatever was going to happen. She didn’t want to throw around her family name here. She was just another fae looking for help.
Looking over the people standing around—mostly staring at her since her arrival—her eyes picked out one man in particular. He was watching her, the same as she did him. Shirtless and covered in a fine sheen of sweat, a plaid shirt tied around his hips above ripped jeans, the man was attractive enough to give her pause. Something about him, about the fine dusting of hair on his chest, made her insides sit up at attention but she squashed it down. Now was hardly the time to develop a crush.
There was nothing that particularly marked the man as the alpha as he watched her take in everyone, but she knew exactly who he was regardless. Some men just gave off an aura. Her father was one of them. This man was the same.
“Radley Whiteclaw?” she asked, tilting her head.
Surprise lit his eyes and disappeared so fast, she would have missed it had she blinked. The few others standing around watching the interaction had similar reactions though they didn’t wipe theirs away so fast. The older woman sitting in a chair with her neck craned around to see her simply smiled, which should have confused her, except Cricket found herself smiling back gently.
The itch of her wings grew more and more incessant and she had to roll her shoulders again in order to keep from releasing them again. She never did like glamouring them, but she felt it wise to hide her wings while prancing among wolves. Not only were they at risk as the most tender part of her body, but they drew attention to her. She wanted to appear non-threatening, rather than brightly colored like a poison dart frog.
“Who’s asking?” the man grunted as he wiped his hands on a rag. There was sawdust clinging to his sweaty skin in places, but Cricket’s eyes seemed to only want to follow the beads of sweat still desperately clinging to his skin, as if even they didn’t want to let go. She didn’t blame them. Currently, she was imagining licking the beads of sweat away herself. She blinked the desire away. Now wasn’t the time, blast it.
“I’m Cricket,” she answered, purposely giving no surname.
His eyes narrowed. “Cricket who?”
She didn’t want to give her surname so soon and in front of so many people. The more witnesses there were, the more likely word could get around to her father. It was best to be as secretive as possible. Right now, these wolves didn’t know her from any other fae and she’d like to keep it that way. The moment he knew precisely who she was, the atmosphere would change and she needed it to stay calm.
“Just Cricket.” She smiled but it only made Radley’s frown deepen. “Is there somewhere we can talk? I promise, I come in peace.”
When his brows rose at her words, it gave him a rogue-ish appearance that called to something in her. She had to mentally scold her ovaries for the reaction. “No one who drives up in a Bentley and refuses to give their last name comes in peace.”
Frowning, Cricket looked back at the only car she’d found in the garage that hadn’t been flashy. It was a Bentley, sure, but it was a simple white one. The other cars had all been sporty things or flashy things and she hadn’t wanted to drive up in a Lamborghini.
“They don’t?” Cricket met his eyes with a grimace. “You’ll have to excuse me. I’m afraid I’m not well-versed in werewolf customs, but I assure you, I’m not here to hurt anyone. I’d just like to talk.”
He didn’t say anything for a few long seconds, not until the older female cleared her throat. He glanced at her once before sighing.
“Fine,” Radley grunted, gesturing toward a building behind them. “We can speak in my office.”
Radley immediately moved toward the structure built with logs. He didn’t check to see if she was following, expected her to tag along like a dog. Her attitude begged her to make a comment on it, but she needed the wolf on her side. Dutifully, she moved to follow him, even if she kept her posture rigid. She didn’t waste time wondering if he was going to trick her. Instead, she simply picked her way over the pine needle-covered ground in shoes worth more than they should have been simply because they had a drop of blood in the high-heeled sole. Sometimes the fae were silly, but she wished she would have worn flats rather than the boots.
The wolf held the door open for her as she stepped up on the creaking porch, her fingers curling around the railing before releasing. She tried not to focus on the fact that her fingers left behind a smear of dust, but Radley’s eyes went immediately to the spot.
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t cover my home in your fucking glitter,” he gruffed.
“My apologies,” Cricket hurried to say. “It’s not always something I can control but I’ll do my best.” She winced as yet a bit more dust seemed to float in the air beside her, but he didn’t comment on it again. Since she was a child, she’d had trouble controlling the glitter. It was purely emotional and though she’d hidden her wings away, she was attracted to the alpha. It was only natural that her body produce dust in reaction to it. Luckily, Radley didn’t seem to understand why faes made dust, let alone that it was because of him.
Radley’s office turned out to be a comfortable room filled with a homey feeling she was envious of. A fireplace sat on one side, a large, carved desk on the other. The desk looked like it was carved from a large red tree, beautiful in its craftsmanship, striking in its appearance. It was certainly a desk meant to intimidate, just as her father’s was. The walls were lined with shelves, each one sporting different types of artifacts on items. Some of them didn’t make much sense to her, like the large feather displayed as if it were a trophy, but others made complete sense, like large chunks of crystals. The earth always had a calming effect on any who were around them.
“You have a very nice collection,” Cricket commented, her eyes tracing over the shelves once more before returning to the rugged man before her. He still hadn’t bothered putting on his shirt, choosing to stand before her with sculpted muscles and sweat-slick skin until she realized she was staring.