Somewhere New (Isle of Doughnut #1)

Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

CALLUM

I t was him.

The scent that pestered me, lingering on the edge of my senses all day and darting out of sight every time I turned.

Now it was everywhere.

I stood in the centre of my living room and breathed deep, each inhalation forcing more of it into my lungs.

Normally, every scent here was familiar. The deep earthiness of the logs drying next to the wood burner. The musty comfort of my old sofa. The lingering aromas of the meal I’d prepared the night before.

I couldn’t smell any of that. All I could detect was him.

And still, I couldn’t define it. People’s scents didn’t work like this. They might change during the day, become stronger or mingled with the smells of things they spent the most time with, but most people stayed steady. Errol always carried the sea with him, Louisa smelt like the cosmetics she spent her days perfecting, Bonnie carried the aroma of home and safety .

This guy’s scent was nothing like that. Even with it surrounding me from where he’d rubbed over my chest and neck, I couldn’t get a handle on it.

Giving into the temptation I’d been fighting since I’d found him, I pulled the collar of my shirt up to my nose and breathed deep.

The open expanse of mountains as I waited for the year’s first fall of snow. The crisp newness of a split log. The wild flower meadow on a summer evening.

Things that made me want to breathe and breathe until I absorbed the stillness and peace they held.

I shuddered and tugged my collar back into place. This wasn’t right: this feeling, this need. I didn’t know this person, yet all I wanted was to stride into my bathroom and press my face to the delicate juncture between his long neck and shoulder. I’d tried so hard to be respectful as I’d helped him undress, hadn’t looked anywhere that would cause the embarrassment emanating from him to bloom into shame, but I couldn’t help the snatches of skin my eyes alighted on. All pale, dotted with faint freckles I wanted to chase and trace.

Balling my hands, I let my claws extend. The pinch of pain at my palms grounded me.

This was an unusual reaction, most likely born from the strangeness of this man’s scent and the fact I’d not had anyone in my home for years. I just had to control myself and not do anything weird or unwelcome until I got used to him.

I flexed my hands and pulled one of the blankets off the sofa. It dislodged my phone, which I caught before it fell to the floor.

Bonnie picked up within seconds. ‘Callum? Is everything alright? ’

My racing thoughts steadied. I might not want to live near my Alpha or have much of a relationship with her, but the demanding tenor of her voice was enough to centre me. I knew who I was. I knew where I belonged.

‘It’s fine. I found him.’

‘Yeah, but is everything okay?’ Her tone was unchanged from when she’d first answered.

I frowned. ‘Yes. He’s unharmed, just a little chilled.’

Bonnie huffed. ‘I don’t care about him. Well, I do. But purely from a not wanting to be blamed for his premature death standpoint. I care more about you. Since this is the first time you’ve voluntarily called me in who knows how long, that makes me think something is wrong.’

‘I thought you’d want to know he’s alright.’

‘You couldn’t have texted?’

I grimaced. That’s what I’d have done any other day. Any normal day.

I couldn’t explain I was so knocked off balance by this stranger’s scent that I’d needed to hear Bonnie’s voice to bring me fully back to myself. She would have opinions about that. Opinions I didn’t want to hear.

‘What’s his name?’ I asked, hoping to derail her from probing too deeply into why I’d called.

Bonnie let out a bark of laughter. ‘You rescued the guy from a snowstorm and you didn’t ask for his name?’

‘It’s not a snowstorm.’ I looked at the flakes pattering on the window. With any luck, they would stop falling within the hour. At least they weren’t settling.

‘Alright, Mr Pedantic.’

I resisted the urge to lecture her on how knowing the difference between a flurry and a storm was important up here in the mountains. I’d tried before. She’d rolled her eyes then pushed me into the loch.

‘His name?’ I prompted.

‘Oh no. I’m not helping you out. You have to live together for three months. I’m not giving you any ammunition to avoid conversations with him.’

‘You’re an arsehole.’

I hung up before she could reply. The deep breath I took to calm myself after the trial of talking to my elder sister flooded my lungs with that strange new scent. The scent I wanted to bury myself in.

No. I gripped my phone. That wasn’t me. I didn’t thrust myself on people. I’d never do that. As intriguing as I found my visitor, I wasn’t going to do anything to make him feel uncomfortable.

Before I could spiral into the place where the worst of my memories lurked, a splash sounded from the bathroom. Moving with inhuman speed, I raced across my bedroom.

‘Are you alright?’ I called through the door. I wanted to storm in, but it had been impossible to miss the guy’s discomfort as I’d undressed him. I’d do anything to avoid him cringing away from me again.

‘Oh, yeah. Absolutely fine. I certainly did not fall asleep. Totally did not disregard your sensible warning and almost drown myself.’

I blinked at the barrage of words. They were tinged with an accent I’d last heard when two men from a pub in North London came to the island to investigate the brewery before stocking our whisky.

Maybe he was talking so much because he was nervous. I pressed my forehead into the door. I never wanted anyone to be scared of me .

‘I’m going to get out. Do you mind if I use the towels in here?’

‘That’s fine.’ I closed my eyes. Soon, everything in my home would smell like this man. Hopefully I’d develop immunity to his scent by then. ‘I’ll bring your bags through to the bedroom.’

I listened in to what was happening in the bathroom as I walked to the living room and grabbed his suitcase and backpack. This man might not be comfortable undressing around me, but I’d endure his embarrassment if that meant he wouldn’t hurt himself.

But he extracted himself from the bath without incident, groaning as he wrapped my towels around his body.

I laid his bags on the bed, but paused before leaving my bedroom. Or, his bedroom for the duration of his stay. I’d relegate myself to the sofa.

I didn’t want to be caught listening or have to resist drawing close to him when he emerged from the bathroom, but there was something important I needed to know.

‘What’s your name?’ I called.

‘Aster.’ A laugh joined the rustling of towels in the bathroom. ‘Yeah, I know. Not an actual name. Or, at least not a people one. I’ll give you my dad’s number so you can make a complaint to the appropriate person.’

‘Aster,’ I whispered. It was ridiculous to like the shape of it on my tongue.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Callum.’ I snapped from rolling his name in circles around my mind.

The door handle creaked, and I shot from the room. Wincing when the bedroom door slammed behind me, I hurried over to the kitchen. I grabbed a Tupperware filled with leftover stew from the fridge and lit up the gas hob.

The gravy bubbled and the spoon clanged against the pan, but nothing could drag my attention from the soft sounds Aster made as he opened his suitcase and dressed. If his speed was any indication, then the bath hadn’t eradicated the muscle-deep ache from the cold.

I shook out my arm. A bit stiff, but if I could distract him then I would draw more of his pain away. I couldn’t do it as effectively as Bonnie, but it would give him some relief.

‘Is that a goat?’ Aster asked as he opened the bedroom door.

I glanced over my shoulder. ‘Yes.’ In my haste to get Aster warm as soon as possible, I must not have securely closed the cabin door.

‘Oh, alright then.’ I didn’t look as Aster walked over to the rug before the fire. ‘Hello there, little friend.’ Behind me, I heard his knees hit the rug. ‘Hey, does he have a name?’

I sidestepped to the cupboard to grab bowls. ‘No.’

The goat was a wild animal. They didn’t have names. Apparently, Aster disagreed.

He hummed. ‘You look like an old man, so you need an old man name. George?’

The bowls fell from my hands and smashed on the flagstones. I stared at the broken shards of pottery, my brain juddering. Dark images threatened to flood me. Long-suppressed shouts echoed in my ears.

Aster leapt up and knelt on the sofa. He looked over the back at me. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine,’ I choked out. Mentally shaking the past away, I tore my gaze from the ruined bowls. ‘Not that name.’

Aster blinked, like he didn’t quite follow. He’d changed into a worn jumper with blue and green stripes and a pair of soft-looking pyjama bottoms patterned with a cartoon character. More than ever, I wanted to press into him, to let his ever-changing scent sweep me away from the haunting memories.

‘You don’t like the name George?’

I flinched. ‘No.’

Aster nodded, like someone reacting so badly to a name wasn’t strange. ‘Alright then.’

He slipped back onto the rug. While I swept the sharp shards of bowl onto an old newspaper, I watched Aster from the corner of my eye. He cupped the goat’s face in his hands and peered into its eyes.

‘You still need an old man’s name,’ he mused. ‘How about Albert?’ He looked at me. ‘Is Albert okay?’

‘It’s fine.’ I dumped the broken bowls in the bin and reached for two more. If Aster was generous, he would ignore the tremor in my hands. ‘Do you like stew?’

‘If the smell is anything to go by, I fucking love stew.’ Aster stopped manhandling the goat and bounced to his feet. ‘Do you need any help?’

‘Sit,’ I instructed. The last thing I wanted was one of his feet to find a stray shard of ceramic I’d missed. I had no need for a first aid kit, so he’d have to make do with tissues and tea towels if he cut himself before I could buy one in the village.

I grabbed a couple of rolls from the bread bin and set them on a tray beside a steaming bowl of stew and a glass of water. I reached over the sofa and set it on Aster’s lap.

He tilted his head back and smiled. ‘Thank you. This looks incredible.’

I nodded and shuffled away, far too interested in the long line of his neck. Thankfully, I didn’t drop my tray when he moaned at the first spoonful of stew. I sat in the armchair by the fire rather than close to him on the sofa.

He didn’t talk while he ate. The meal was broken by occasional groans and expressive pointing. Slowly, I emptied my bowl. This was half what I’d normally eat. If I wanted to avoid awkward questions about my lightning-fast metabolism, I’d have to load up on calories when Aster was out of sight.

His chin had dropped to his chest by the time I finished eating. I placed my tray on the floor and eased his off his lap. Carrying one of the blankets from the sofa with us, I pulled Aster’s sleeping form into my arms.

He mumbled incoherently as I set him on my bed. His hair was short, sticking out an inch from his scalp in all directions. I allowed myself to trace across his head. The brown strands were smooth. He grumbled when I pulled away, but snuggled into the blankets as I tucked them around his chin.

I retreated to the bedroom doorway and watched him snore softly.

I had to desensitise to his scent soon. This mad need to be near him couldn’t continue for the three months he’d be staying here.

I’d get used to him, and he’d be like everyone else. Tolerable, and better at a distance.

That much was clear after one short conversation. There were too many things kept shut at the back of my mind, and for good reason. Other people unintentionally dragged them out into the light.

After easing the bedroom door closed, I sank into the armchair. The goat I refused to call Albert butted his head into my shin, then settled across my feet.

‘I might be screwed,’ I whispered.