The Wolf Came on Christmas (Johanna and Alexander) novel Chapter 24

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I must admit now that, for a brief moment, I wondered whether that FBI agent might be nothing more than the damn panther that had attacked Alexander, disguised somehow. I mean-didn’t felines also have human lives, in other parts of the world? It could very well have been him.

But that man looked loyal and professional, and besides, he had that old photograph of Alexander. Something about him, even though it provoked rejection in me, didn’t make me feel threatened- not like something unknown would have. I think that if he had been “bad,” some part of me would have sensed it (just as I didn’t sense that Andre was “bad” the first time I saw him, even though we already agreed that what I felt back then was more like pain and emptiness). That was probably why I led him to the house and allowed him to come in. Alexander was waiting for us at the kitchen door, with a very relieved smile on his face and a very calm Sasha resting against his chest, looking at us with those enormous, beautiful eyes.

Wouldn’t Alexander have been the first to notice if something were wrong?

His prodigious canine nose would have told him, right? And instead of becoming defensive, what he did was grin from ear to ear when he saw the FB agent. The agent returned the gesture, but then stood there, impressed, staring at Sasha.

“Well, when you said you needed urgent help, I never in a million years imagined it could be something like this,” Agent Aguilera said, somewhat uncomfortable. “Why didn’t you mention it from the beginning?”

From how happy he had seemed at first, his cheer dropped exponentially-first when he saw Sasha, and then when he saw Andre. I almost felt offended myself by his attitude.

We were all in my living room, and I, as a good hostess, tried to pretend that nothing out of the ordinary was happening by serving coffee to the newcomer. The agent accepted it graciously, but his eyes were very alert to everything going on around him. He was watching me in particular with that hazel, scrutinizing, serious look, perhaps expecting to detect something wrong. Like a police officer staring at a murder suspect waiting for them to confess, more or less. Alexander had told him he was in a house in the mountains, near such-and-such town, but he hadn’t been able to give hím my address very well (I couldn’t have either, because the house was hard to find), and the federal agent had had to visit several properties like mine before he managed to locate us. In the valley, very few people knew my name-the sheriff and his wife, the FedEx delivery man, and the people who came all the way out to collect my taxes-so I understood why he’d had to search.

The children caught his attention-too much attention. When his curiosity about me seemed satisfied, I noticed he couldn’t stop looking at Andre and Sasha as if they had some defect, or were the strangest things he’d ever seen in his life,

He had taken off his long coat and was dressed exactly like an FBI agent should be (tailored dark

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suit and tie, white shirt and black shoes, neat and impeccable-if someone had told me that man was a werewolf, I would never have believed it), with an air of importance that could only come from a big city. Despite his orderly, “cubicle” appearance, however, there was something rustic and wild about him too, untamed. It didn’t surprise me that he was Latino, by the way-Alexander had already mentioned something about the “family” that held territory in America. Red Mexicans, he’d called them.

It fit. So-Ricardo Aguilera, a.k.a. “Rex.” Another werewolf in my living room.

I don’t know why I still wasn’t scared to the bone. Maybe because his attitude, which on the road had been firm and dominant, now seemed softer, almost submissive in Alexander’s presence, who was technically his “boss.”

7 didn’t think it was necessary for you to know yet, Alexander replied seriously, regarding the children. “You were coming anyway.”

“Yeah, well, better here than sitting behind a desk in Columbia. You should know I pulled the dead distant-aunt card to get them to give me two weeks of vacation, but… does anyone know about this?

His gaze drifted back to the children. Andre was sitting very straight beside his father-a perfect little gentleman, very serious-and Sasha, in Alexander’s arms, was sucking on her fist. The little girl sweetly rested her head against her father’s chest, showing just how beautiful and adorable she could be at any hour. I melted. What a beautiful baby she was. I made a mental note to prepare a bottle for her, but I didn’t want to leave without hearing the important part.

“This is my children, Alexander growled, with a fierceness that sent a chill through me. No parent likes their children being belittled, and I imagined even less so one as possessive as he seemed.” And no, for the moment, I’d prefer that everything related to them remain secret. But they’d be very stupid back home if they didn’t suspect it. Eight years have passed.”

Aguilera swallowed and lowered his head for a moment, thoughtful.

“And what about your father?”

“Rex…” Alexander’s voice was almost a growl in how deep it sounded.

“All right, I get it. But your family-”

I saw it. It was a simple gesture: Alexander only had to narrow his eyes slightly, and the other werewolf sat up straighter in the armchair, impatient. That, for me, was definitive proof of the bond between them beyond the human. Agent Aguilera almost looked like a dog cowed by a stronger one when he decided to change the subject.

I couldn’t help smiling inwardly, satisfied. Why? I don’t know. It just pleased me.

But he apparently decided to hold his tongue out of respect for his “alpha.” Oh, what fascinating

creatures.

Everything was fine up to that point, but we were skirting around the “wife” topic in a way that was starting to make me very nervous. Why wasn’t Aguilera asking Alexander the most important question? Please-it was written all over his face, that huge question mark forming in his thoughts whenever he looked at the children, wondering, just like me, where they had come from. Well, maybe not exactly where they’d come from-we could all imagine that-but I was far more anxious to know about the mother than about the whereabouts of that black jaguar who might still be following Alexander. If it mattered so much to the agent that his friend hadn’t mentioned this from the beginning, why wasn’t he trying to find out about his wife? That should have been the very first thing that-

Or maybe it was only me who was overly concerned about the issue. That thought filled me with pain. Did Alexander not want to know anything about his wife?

“That’s the point of disappearing, Rex. Did you talk to Hans?”

The other man nodded in the middle of a sip of coffee.

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