Chapter 7:A Week at Black Mountain

*Demi Noell* I sat on the edge of my faded couch, a threadbare artifact in dire need of replacement, and tried to convince myself that agreeing to spend a week with Alpha Maverick Horwood at the Black Mountain Pack was not the worst decision anyone had ever made. Spoiler alert: it was. At least that's what my spinning thoughts told me. "Demi, you are officially out of your mind," I mumbled to myself, cradling my phone between my ear and shoulder while rifling through my cabinets for something—anything—that wouldn't be a horrible judgment on my life choices. Peanut butter? Nope. Dried spaghetti? Too much effort. My eyes landed on the half-eaten tub of cookie-dough ice cream. "Sixth time's a charm," I muttered, pouring a generous scoop into a cereal bowl as Hannah's voice crackled over the line. "Are you sure about this? I mean, the guy's a vampire killer, Demi," she said, her tone dripping with the disbelief I so richly deserved. It was like she thought this was all some kind of bizarre prank—oh, the irony when the prankster is a vampire. "I'm sure! I just—he asked me to come, and I said yes! Can you believe that?" I dunked my spoon into the bowl, the sweet, chilly treat grounding me slightly. "What kind of lunatic agrees to spend time with a notorious werewolf? I'm practically signing my life away." "Which is why you should have called Demetrius," she said, her voice firm. "He would gut that wolf on sight." I couldn't help but wince at the thought. My brother, the Vampire Crown Prince, was a sweet guy—unless he perceived a threat. The last time someone threatened me, white-hot fury flashed in his eyes, and suddenly I was in a bubble of plush security. "Hannah, you know what happens when I involve Demetrius. We turn into a real-life monster movie, and I refuse to become an anecdote for the vampire society on 'How to Annihilate a Werewolf Clan.'" "Fair point. But you're allowed to be terrified." I sighed, my heart thumping in my chest, punctuated by my erratic thoughts that kept threatening to spiral into chaos. "What if he finds out?" I whispered, even though both of us knew my voice would carry. "What if he knows I'm a vampire?" Hannah paused, silence stretching between us like an untraversable chasm. "That's why you're taking the suppressants with you, right?" "Of course!" I said, clenching my fist and almost accidentally launching my bowl across the room. "I'm not entirely reckless. I've got enough suppressants to last the week, but what if it's not enough?" My fingers shook a little, and I felt the strangest mix of fear and twisted excitement weaving inside me. "Just pretend to be Demi the baker. That's all you have to do." "There's no way a baker will impress an Alpha—especially one that takes pride in tossing vampires off cliffs," I raised my spoon dramatically, as if warding off dark thoughts. "What do you think I should wear? I can't show up in my usual flour-dusted attire! The minute they see me measuring a cup of sugar in his presence, they'll know I'm not cut out for this." "Look, just be yourself," she urged. "No one knows you better than you. If things get tough, you'll have to think on your feet. Just keep reminding yourself: you are Demi Noell, the baker, not Demetria Noell Durand-Lemarchal, the vampire princess." I nodded along, drawing strength from her unwavering faith in me. Despite the daunting reality of my situation, there was something warm and comforting about Hannah's resolve. Once we hung up, I couldn't resist the urge to strategize. I gathered my secret stash of suppressants and blood packs that I had stored away, maybe a little overzealously, because let's face it — it's hard to resist something that gives you a semblance of normalcy. Who knew how much blood I would require to pass as a human among werewolves? After packing a small bag filled with my baking essentials (don't judge me, but a dessert emergency could arise), I fished out my phone again, this time to scroll through every possible online article about werewolves, pack dynamics, and superstitions. Each click only exacerbated my nerves. Alpha Maverick was handsome, muscular, and ten times more dangerous than I could fathom. But lurking behind that façade was an unexpected curiosity that simultaneously intrigued and terrified me. Did he have a soft side? Did he prefer chocolate chip cookies over brownies, or was he more of a pie guy? "Demi Noell, the baker," I whispered, standing in front of the cracked mirror of my tiny apartment. "Your name will live in glory—or death—at Black Mountain." My eyes flashed with a mixture of hope and dread. The night before my departure was riddled with dreams of deep, shadowy woods and howling wolves. I jolted awake several times, heart racing at the thought of revealing my true self, the fear of rejection mingling with an indescribable thrill. It was as if the universe were testing me, pushing me towards an outcome I wasn't quite ready to accept. Morning crept in, wrapped in a veil of golden light filtering through my thin blinds. I rolled over, squeezing my eyes shut tightly as if that would grant me the ability to hit rewind, to cancel my ridiculous commitment, and retreat into my safe, flour-covered cocoon. But I was steely-eyed when I finally stepped out of my apartment, determination firmly restored. "All you have to do is be the baker," I chanted as I drove my Tesla to Sweet Temptations, clutching my bag of essentials in my lap. "And maybe get a group of werewolves to warm up to the concept of baked goods." As the familiar streets faded behind me and the car rattled me closer to the unknown, I felt a wave of resolve. I could do this. I would face Alpha Maverick and whatever horrors his pack had to offer. I am his mate for Goddess's sake! Besides, who could resist the smell of fresh pastries? As I parked at the back of Sweet Temptations, the early sunlight danced through the trees, spilling golden rays onto the pavement, but the warmth did little to clear the knot of anxiety twisting in my stomach. The bakery was my sanctuary, sure, but today it felt more like a launching pad into battle, and for a moment, I hesitated at my own door. "This is it, Demi," I whispered to myself, taking a deep breath that tasted faintly of sugar and cinnamon. Despite the growing fear, my hands lingered on the steering wheel as I glanced at the bakery's cozy sign swinging gently in the breeze. The idea of breaking bread—definitely more enticing than breaking bones—ran through my mind. But the notion of facing Alpha Maverick and his werewolf entourage was like staring into the depths of my greatest fears; it made my skin crawl and my heart race in perfect rhythm. I had to pull myself together. And yet, there was still a flicker of excitement within me, like the last ember of a fire refusing to be snuffed out. What was I even thinking? Baked goods could change the world! Or at least, they might change the hearts of some gruff werewolves. I chanted to myself as I readied to step outside the car: "All you have to do is be the baker." I clutched my bag of essentials tightly as if it were my safety blanket. But before I could throw myself into the tasks at hand, I felt the stray pang of guilt tugging at me. I fished my phone out of the cup holder and, against my better judgment, dialed my brother Demetrius's number. He was like a living lie detector—a dragon who could sniff out deception from a mile away. The moment he picked up, his warm greeting cut through my nerves, providing a brief sense of comfort. "Hey, Demi! I'm in the middle of training right now, but how's everything?" His voice was the anchor I didn't realize I needed. "It's, um, going well!" I forced the words past my tight throat, trying to maintain my façade. "I'm just, you know, planning a little vacation to Hannah's pack." "Really?" he asked, skepticism creeping into his tone. "Didn't you two have just a mini vacay a few days ago?" I grimaced, wishing I could pull my lie back. "Yeah, but she just found her mate, and I thought it would be nice to support her," I babbled, guilt gnawing at my conscience. "Girl support, you know?" A long pause ensued. I could practically hear the gears turning in his head. "Just be careful, alright?" "Of course! I'm fine! But hey, I was hoping you wouldn't send Felix with me?" I pushed, trying to inject a touch of playfulness into my tone. Felix, the shadows assigned for my protection by my overprotective brother, was the last person I wanted tailing me—especially with the drama unfolding with Alpha Maverick's pack looming ahead. Demetrius hissed through the line, the protective brother coming alive in him. "Demi, have you completely lost your mind? Alpha Horwood was at that wedding. What if he comes again? I'm not taking any risks with my sister's life." Hearing my mate's name from my brother's lips as if he were the disease made my chest ache. Was there a chance that the Moon Goddess made a mistake pairing up? I rolled my eyes, even if he couldn't see me. "Come on! How dangerous could a pack of werewolves be? Besides, they love baked goods! All I have to do is present them with some enticing pastries and—" "No," he interrupted firmly. "No pastries, no charm school, nothing. You're not going anywhere near that dog without protection." My heart sank, but beneath the surface, a stubborn defiance rose. He didn't understand. Sure, Alpha Horwood was a menace wrapped in sweet threats, but I wasn't helpless. I could—no, I would—face whatever was waiting for me in his pack, with or without Felix watching from the shadows like my overly cautious lifeguard. "I'm fine, really!" I tried one last time, but I could hear the finality in his tone. My brother had made up his mind. "Demi, please just—stay safe." With that, the call disconnected, and I was left staring at my phone, feeling painfully torn between familial love and the growing desire to carve my own path. With one last glance at the bakery, the little haven I'd created from scratch that somehow felt less like my own with each passing moment, I took a deep breath and opened the car door. I stepped outside and felt the rush of purpose wash over me, overshadowing the anxiety that threatened to creep back in. The sweet scent of anticipation lingered in the air as my heart drummed a brave tattoo against my ribcage. "Okay, Demi, time to get your bake on," I murmured to myself, reminding my inner skeptic there was magic in flour and sugar. I grabbed my bag and strode through the back entrance. The doors creaked, opening up to my sanctuary filled with the warm glow of morning light spilling over the countertops. The sight of the mixing bowls, rolling pins, and jars of colorful sprinkles sparked my enthusiasm anew. I was, after all, the baker. I had a reputation to uphold, and there were werewolves to impress. But as I began pulling ingredients from the shelves, my thoughts kept circling back to Maverick—the strong, brooding Alpha who would either see me as an unwelcome rival in his realm or as the spark of sweetness I intended to ignite amongst his stoic pack. Would being his mate mean I could change his heart? Or would I become another casualty in the war between my world and his? The clatter of pots brought me back to the present, and suddenly, it wasn't just about baked goods. It was about fighting for who I was and what I wanted—even if I didn't entirely know what that was yet.