Game of Destiny by Dripping Creativity novel Chapter 7

Game of Destiny

Chapter 7-1

The quiet streets of the small town stretched out before me as I made my way along, the plan originally set to stop at the diner for a quick lunch on my drive back from a meeting. That meeting—an unusual new alliance—had taken place almost four days ago, yet here I still was, lingering in this place. The reason for my lingering awaited me just as I veered toward the lake. She was standing exactly where she had said we would meet, calm and composed. On the table beside her rested a paper bag, its contents exuding a tempting aroma that made my stomach rumble.

“You made it,” I said, halting just a bit too close, deliberately invading her space to gauge her reaction.

“I said I would be here,” she replied softly, lifting her gaze to meet me. Whoever she was, her upbringing was evident. She had perfected the delicate art of looking up at me without locking eyes—something that, in our world, was a subtle but important sign. Meeting an Alpha’s eyes directly was often seen as a challenge unless you were his mate or a trusted friend.

“So, you kept your word. I was beginning to think I might have to bribe you with a few more meals at the diner to convince you,” I teased, noting that she hadn’t stepped back despite my proximity. Most wolves would have instinctively retreated the moment an Alpha encroached on their space—unless they were an Alpha themselves. But if there was one thing I had learned about this intriguing woman, she was definitely not an Alpha. I’d caught her scent the moment I walked into the diner, a wolf’s scent, but one that had never registered on our pack’s radar before. That had been a surprise.

“Tired of Rich’s cooking already?” she asked with a playful smile. I couldn’t help but chuckle at her humor.

“Not at all. I’m actually considering staying until I’ve sampled everything on the menu. That might take a week or two,” I said, a grin tugging at my lips.

She exhaled sharply, a hint of amusement in her breath. “Well, no need for that now that I’m here. So, why exactly am I here?”

“I want to get to know you,” I answered honestly. Her expression shifted to surprise before she quickly rebuilt her emotional wall, making her thoughts unreadable once more. That elusive barrier was part of what made her so frustrating—and yet, so fascinating.

“Well, I could refuse,” she said, “but you’d just use your Alpha senses to track me down and keep dropping by my workplace. So, I suppose we might as well do this.” For the first time since I approached her, she looked away, her eyes settling on the paper bag. She reached in, climbed up onto the table, and sat with her feet resting on the seat. “Coffee, black,” she told me, pulling out a travel cup.

I joined her, taking a seat beside her but deliberately leaving as much space between us as possible, offering her some comfort.

“You remembered,” I said with a smile.

“Hardly the most complicated coffee order,” she replied, fishing out another cup and placing it beside her. Then, like magic, the bag produced pecan buns, their sweet scent making me swallow hard to keep my composure. Maintaining a shred of dignity was important when you were an Alpha. “My landlady baked these this morning. I need breakfast to get me through this conversation.”

“Thank you,” I said gratefully, taking one of the tempting pastries.

“What do you want to know?” she asked, sipping her coffee.

“Are you a rogue?”

The words slipped out before I could stop them, and I immediately regretted asking. Her raised eyebrow told me she thought it was a foolish question. She lacked the faintly sweet, decaying scent that all rogues carried—a smell of rot and ruin.

“No, I’m a lone wolf,” she confirmed, biting into her bun. I hummed, feeling a little foolish for the question.

“Were you born one?” I pressed. Most werewolves remained within packs; it was ingrained in us to seek the safety and camaraderie of our kind. Yet some ventured outside the system—whether out of dissatisfaction, a desire for solitude, or necessity. Occasionally, lone wolves had pups who also grew up without pack membership. Even some rogues had pups, though those offspring typically became lone wolves rather than rogues themselves.

“No, I left my pack,” she said after a thoughtful pause, counting the years in her mind. “Four years ago.” Her youth surprised me; she looked so young.

Chapter 7-2

“You left when you were about fifteen?” I asked.

She laughed softly. “Eighteen,” she corrected, and that revelation caught me off guard. I hadn’t expected her to be just twenty-two—only two years younger than me. Raised in a pack for most of her life, she had chosen a solitary path. I wanted to understand why she preferred isolation among humans rather than the company of her own kind.

“Why did you leave?” I inquired, watching her carefully.

She glanced up at me with a hint of challenge. “You’re asking a lot of personal questions, Alpha, without offering anything in return,” she pointed out. Her accusation was fair; she had been generous with her answers so far but now guarded herself. I respected that.

“What do you want to know?” I asked.

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