Chapter 6 A Latte, And Your Name

• Aella
• Life has a way of becoming mundane, a dull routine of getting up, going to work and coming back home. Two years since my escape, two years since I severed all ties with my past, with the responsibilities that once threatened to suffocate me.
• Now, I live in a small town far away from my pack, my family, and most importantly, from Roman, the man who believed he owned me just because he is an Alpha.
• Each day bleeds into the next, a swirl of lattes, bagels, and forced smiles. I work at “The Corner Café,” a place small enough that it’s never crowded but just popular enough to keep afloat.
• I made one friend, Sam, at the cafe where I work. He’s a gorgeous Greek God of a man who also happens to be exceptionally gay, much to some of the female patrons’ dismay.
• But no one knows me here, not really. They know my face, my voice, even my schedule. But not me—not Aella. And I prefer it that way.
• I still look over my shoulder everyday, though; I haven’t let my guard down at all. When I walk home late at night, I swear I can feel eyes on me. It’s the reason I now always carry a dagger wherever I go.
• My father has the best trackers in his state, so why haven’t they found me yet? Surely they would have traced every surveillance camera to Seattle right after I left, so what’s keeping them?
• The first night in my apartment, I stayed up sitting in front of my door and waiting for them to come get me. I had a knife in my hand, ready to fight them with everything I had.
• But no one showed; not even a whiff of a wolf in my father’s pack. I still find it odd, given I’m not only a runaway potential Luna, but a runaway mafia princess as well.
• Today starts as any other, the steam from the espresso machine spiraling upwards like miniature smoke signals, the scent of freshly ground coffee beans mingling with the sweet undertones of pastry.
• I’m at the counter, lost in my thoughts with my chin resting on my fist, when he walks in.
• He’s unlike anyone I’ve ever seen. Blonde hair falling rebelliously over his forehead, eyes a mesmerizing shade of green that look like they’ve ripped a piece of the forest and tucked it away. His arms are adorned with intricate tattoos, a maze of ink and skin that tells a story I can’t quite read.
• Wearing black slacks and a black button-down, he immediately screams old money, and I try not to stare too hard.
• “Hey,” he says, his voice casual, smirking when I turn to look at him. “Can I get a latte, and whatever your name is?”
• I’m taken aback, momentarily stunned by his audacity, but also oddly charmed. “A latte it is,” I reply, sidestepping the second part of his request. “Anything else?”
• He smiles, and something in me twists; Emotions I’ve pushed down for so long I’ve almost forgotten their taste. I don’t date, don’t allow myself to get close to anyone here, much less men.
• And this man is a temptation I cannot risk. Nope.
• “That’ll be all, beautiful,” he says, his eyes meeting mine, holding my gaze captive.
• His voice has a rough lilt to it, something akin to silk sheets over freshly shaved legs and I get a shiver up my spine just thinking about it. I make his latte, my hands trembling ever so slightly while I can feel his gaze on my back. Why is this guy having such an effect on me?
• He pays, thanks me with a wink and another heart-stopping smile, and then he’s gone. Just like that.
• I watch as he walks out, leaving the scent of dark forest soil in his wake. I’m so dazed by the reaction he had on me, that I completely miss the fact that I’m still standing with the money in my hand.
• Only to look down and see a piece of paper with his number on it.
• “Cocky asshole,” I mumble, before throwing the piece of paper in the waste disposal beneath the counter… but I can’t seem to keep the smile off my face. Also, how the hell did he write his number out so quickly?
• Shaking my head, I push the memory of the disgustingly handsome guy out of my head and go about my business. I can’t afford to be thinking about a stranger right now, not when I need to plan for the full moon next week.
• The café closes earlier today just as the sun dips below the horizon, and I lock up. My traitorous thoughts filled with the colors of his eyes, the timbre of his voice. I meet a lot of handsome men who walk into the cafe, some who have asked me out on dates and I’ve always declined.
• So what’s up with this guy? A shiver shoots up my spine when I recall the smile he gave me, and I have to literally slap myself to stop my straying thoughts. The guy is hot, I’ll give him that, but it’s not like I’ll ever see him again.
• With that thought in mind, I make my way toward my apartment, which isn’t too far from where I work.
• I arrive home, a quaint little studio apartment that serves its purpose of shelter but never really feels like a haven. As I walk in the door, the kitchen is on my left and further in is my bedroom with the bathroom off to the side.
• I have an oak dresser that houses my clothing and underneath one of the floorboards I have loosened, is a slim safe with my personal belongings. It isn’t much, but it’s home.
• Changing into a tank top and shorts, then removing my contact lenses after a long day of dry eyes, I breathe out a sigh and walk out to my kitchen to whip up something to eat.
• After fixing myself a quick dinner of oven baked pizza and a glass of red wine, I sit by the window attempting to align my thoughts. Today something new happened, and right now something new isn’t what I need.
• It may be two years after I escaped my father and pack, but I insulted a lot of powerful people by absconding the way I did. I don’t even know if the pack survived Roman’s anger, either.
• Guilt pierces my heart as I think about Lily and Marcus; they don’t deserve to die because of what I did. Ah, I hate when I get like this! I made my bed, I need to lie in it without worrying about what my decision did to my pack.
• Even if it eats at me.
• With a sigh, I grab my laundry basket, filled to the brim with clothes that have lazed about in the corner for far too long. No point is wallowing when I have chores to do, so I make my way to the basement.
• It’s a brightly lit area where the washing machines and dryers reside, often smelling like delicious clean clothing. Despite what I’ve heard about other apartment buildings, I actually feel safe being down here by myself.
• I’m about to dump my clothes into a machine as soon as I round the corner, but then I freeze, my heart skipping a beat. I nearly drop the basket and my eyes widen at the sight in front of me.
• There is no damn way this is happening right now; not in a million years.