Coldsnap: The Billionaire Alpha's Fated Pregnant Princess (GL)-Chapter 197 - Last Night Was Too Late For All This, Now It’s Too Early!

Chapter 197: Chapter 197 - Last Night Was Too Late For All This, Now It’s Too Early!

I wake up and shift my hand from its *dangerous place* between my thighs and carefully lick my lips. The taste of the last of the bone broth is still there because, a few hours before, I’d woken up from a dead sleep and... chose to raid the fridge instead of anything else.

Because that damned set of orange eyes attached to that body were in my head. Making me want to do things that I’ve held back from doing in this body so far, to be respectful of the original Helene.

"Other than washing up in the water, which really does not count. The intent behind cleaning oneself is not sexy at all."

Vrika sends impressions of agreement at first, starting to think about grooming each other as a social necessity... until a large white wolf joins its thoughts. It tries to hide its sentiment, but the fact that it quickly pivots toward a feeling that I *should* go groom Kyrie because it is ’no big deal’... says everything.

> Nice try. Ugh. This is exactly the sort of thing I hate. Too much... pressure built up. <

When I first got up in the middle of the night, I’d felt sweat on the sheets. My internal temperature feels off, like I’ve been running a low fever all night.

My wolf sends me impressions of restlessness and tension, confirming that even the spirit had a difficult time settling down. But | Matron’s Monitor | keeps telling me that nothing is wrong.

"And I don’t really have to get a second opinion, because I know exactly what the problem and ache is about."

The clock that came with the room on my nightstand ticked over to 7:23 AM, which means I’ve been awake for exactly three minutes sitting up and doing nothing. Already, I want to crawl back under the covers for the rest of the week and turn down the air conditioning another few degrees.

Unfortunately, the loud knocking at my door suggests the universe, working my own will, had other plans. I’d completely forgotten about the furniture delivery in all of yesterday’s chaos, but someone at my door calls out my apartment number and name.

Pulling on yesterday’s shorts... and the first shirt I can find, because I’m somehow not sure where I left the blouse, but it’s not with the shorts... I hurry off to silence the people that are probably making some neighbors hate me.

"Citra Lomdi? If you don’t mind, we need to verify identification first. Also, where would you like us to place everything?"

The delivery team is refreshingly normal - two human men who smell like coffee and ’diesel’ exhaust. No beautiful white haired, smooth skinned werewolves in sight.

"...Here at the living room entry is fine."

I respond while backing away - to fish my clutch out of the jacket pocket, where I left that piece of outerwear thrown on the couch. Handing him the new driver’s license to check, I get back a nod.

"Alright. We’ll be back up in four stages. The boxes are heavy and this building has freight limits according to our records."

"Sounds fine. I’ll be here."

No supernatural complications in sight. Just the normal ones - like the one who hasn’t talked yet staring a little too hard when he thinks I’m not aware. Probably just because I have three buttons of this mauve dress shirt lazily undone.

"I love this fucking job sometimes, man."

I do hear him whisper this toward him as they move back to the elevator. It makes me wonder about this collection I may be modeling for. It’s supposed to be a winter collection, so there probably will not be very much cleavage shown.

"...Probably? This world is fairly sex-crazed."

Blue eyes bore into my soul as a wolf spirit judges me. Like I am the black wolf calling the kettle black. Just because I have some current urges does not make me...

> Damnit, don’t do that! <

Scenes and impressions that I shared with it from that back room at the boutique were reflected back at me. Making me tense and storm off to rehydrate. I haven’t even washed my face yet.

And already it’s as red as her silk sheets.

⧖ ☾ ❄ ☽ ⧖

As I lounge on the sofa, they place the third heavy looking box down. My brain can’t really get locked into doing anything in particular besides waiting for them to come back up and drop each one off.

My phone buzzed with what I figured would be an inevitable morning bombardment as I glance at some of the links I was sent last night with half a heart in it. Notifications stacking up, but resist the urge to check them immediately.

"Especially this one."

Grumbling aloud as I pull the notification panel down, I see the new ’Flickering Candlelight’ name and the bubble with the picture of Kyrie. However, part of my desire to become a ’hermit’ today involves not getting sucked into other people’s energy before I’ve even had a good breakfast.

"All set! Sign here, please."

The lead delivery man hands me a tablet that has some boxes to tap to confirm everything was in order and forces me to do an awkward attempt at a signature - in this world’s letters - on its surface. But he doesn’t seem to care too much about the ugly scrawl, just glances at it and submits it.

"Anything else you need help with?"

"No, thank you. What you’ve done already is enough."

"Okay. Hope you have a good day, Miss Lomdi."

"Yeah, you deserve to have a good one, too! All pretty ladies do!"

The younger man with the wandering eyes gives me a thumbs up before the customer facing one turns - and palms the far side of his head, all but dragging him out backwards down the hallway with his neck locked in the other man’s bicep.

> Well, that’s... someone that is going to get a talking to. <

When I close the door and stand there... looking at the four boxes and four trips to the warehouse - actually five, because I have to go free the stash up first... I finally allow myself to look at my phone instead of think about that.

Anise - 4 messages about interview details and styling suggestions for what to wear to it based on what she knows I bought from her. A helpful reminder not to wear ’anything with patterns or logos’ to look more professional.

I save the number she sent as a contact under the provided name... and set alarms to remind me to travel to the downtown photography studio in the afternoon tomorrow.

Claire - 7 messages with even more research links and commentary about my "romantic development" last night. Apparently she can see pictures that are sent to me. Should I warn Kyrie?

As I think so, I get yet a few more.

BK: [Portfolio examples attached - notice the poses that work best for critics of winter formal wear]

BK: [Also found supplier for solar generator systems - can have delivered to warehouse when you pick the design. I have a guy that can affix it all, no questions asked.

BK: [Well, maybe a few asked, like where, when, and how much am I getting paid. But not ’why’!]

"And she can see my search history and decide to help on my own. I should really tell her to stop, she’s starting to become valuable to me."

And of course, 1 single message from that woman that had me thinking I’d better be around food than open and see what it says in full. Because the small part I can see is asking if she can call me again...

Updat𝒆d fr𝒐m freew𝒆bnov𝒆l.c(o)m