Wolf's Wife (Monstrous Hearts #1)

Chapter One

The cabin was rundown, dusty, and cold from the wind whistling through the cracks and gaps in its walls, and Alice winced while setting her luggage on the bed. The bags bulged with more than enough clothes for the month-long trip. A trip that would likely prove as miserable as every other they had tried in the last five years.

Magdalene already smoked, running a hand through her thick brown hair while staring out the window at the bristling spruce and redwood. "Jesus, what a place. This is supposed to be a retreat?"

"We could try Tahoe instead. It's not that late; we'd get there before sunset."

"Fuck that, it'll be seething with tourists. I need quiet."

The light from the winter sun, dim and sickly as it was, transformed the features of Magdalene's face into the transcendent purity that had first drawn Alice to her. Alice fell still, watching. Moments like these were precious, burned into her brain to be later pulled out and treasured like a string of pearls released from a locked jewelry box.

Then Magdalene shifted, and the play of light across her face changed, revealing the flatness in her dark eyes and the sullen set to her mouth.

Alice swallowed a sigh and slipped over to hug her from behind, fingers sinking into the thick sweater the other woman wore. When Magdalene didn't react, she said, "We both agreed it'd be good to get away and recharge without anything to distract us. Somewhere rustic and peaceful."

"It won't work."

Alice hesitated. A familiar tightness appeared in her belly at the knowledge that nothing she said could hold the right words. "Maybe it'll help. The last short story you started before we came here was very — "

"It was shit." With a rough shrug of her shoulders, Magdalene knocked her hands away. Then she brushed by with an exhalation of smoke. "You better get some wood for a fire. This place is freezing."

Tears prickled at Alice's eyes while she nodded.

The warmth and brightness of flames did nothing to lighten the mood that had already settled in the cabin. Clouds swelled in the sky, bringing about an early evening and a steady rain. After unpacking, Alice began cooking dinner with the groceries brought with them and the battered pot and frying pan she found in the kitchen cabinet. Coq au vin, the original recipe halved since Magdalene only picked at food. When Alice tried to open a bottle of pinot noir, the cork broke. She swore.

"Here."

She hadn't even heard Magdalene approach, but there she was, taking the corkscrew and putting it to work on a second bottle of wine. When the cork pulled out with a neat pop, Alice smiled at her.

Magdalene didn't smile back. Instead, she took the first bottle back over by the fireplace, corkscrew still in hand.

Alice felt her expression freeze. "Magdalene..."

"I'm not getting shitfaced. Just need something against the cold."

And from there, Magdalene remained in front of the fireplace, feeding it the occasional log while she stared at the flames and drank straight from the bottle. Unflinching even when sparks snapped. She was still dressed for the city, in a sleek sweater dress and sleeker boots, but from the hollow grief on her face one would think she'd come straight from a funeral.

The knife sounded overloud while Alice chopped up carrots; she wished she could put the blade to that certain medal in its understated case back home. Its arrival was when Magdalene's life had gone sour, and therefore when hers had, as well. In the first year after Magdalene tried to follow up The Chrysalis, she had been wry about her struggles. But things weren't as simple as the pressure of a prestigious debut novel crushing the delicate bones of whatever story followed it. Magdalene wasn't that simple. More waited beneath the surface and Alice had caught only glimpses of it.