Page 40 of Enemy Wolf

He started to relax then, sitting on a rock and stretching his long, jean-clad legs. “Wasn’t that hard.”

“Oh yeah? Are you humble-bragging?”

“Nah, just bragging.”

I laughed, genuinely surprised by his wit. “At least you’re honest.”

“Usually,” he said so low that I almost didn’t hear.

I snorted. “Well, that’s a loaded answer if I ever heard one.”

Orson stared into the fire, his icy gaze a pale backdrop for the flames’ reflection. “It’s not that I’m dis-honest. There are just things about me I’d prefer people to not know.”

“Like that you were feral?”

He shook his head and shrugged. “Pretty much everyone knows that. Not much I can do about it.”

“Well, I think it’s totally fair that you want to keep some things private. Some things are just better kept to yourself, you know?”

He lifted his gaze to stare across the fire at me, mouth pulling into a smirk. “Are you telling me the most popular witch in Vargmore has deep, dark secrets?”

“No.” I hoped the simple word came out as casual and not defensive. “But privacy is really important to some people, and I respect that.”

“It is.” Orson rubbed his arm, going back to looking at the fire. “Sometimes keeping certain knowledge away from people actually protects them. Even if they wouldn’t see it that way.”

Don’t I know it, I thought. It wasn’t like I felt the safety of the entire territory rested on my keeping this potion project under wraps or anything.

“Are you secretly mated or something?” I asked on a whim.

Orson sat straight up, his eyes narrowing. “No. Why would you ask me that?”

“Just trying to guess what your big secret is.” I gave a small smile. “And to push your buttons just a little.”

He relaxed again and let out a huff of breath that sounded very similar to his wolf’s. “Are you mated?”

“Me? No, of course not!” Finished with the plucking, I retrieved my knife to make quick work of gutting the bird. “I could never keep a secret like that. The whole territory would be talking about it since I’m so popular.”

“Any male would be a fool to keep you a secret anyway,” Orson muttered. He was quiet for a while and then said, “So, you and that angel from the bar…”

“Not an item,” I said quickly. “He supplies me with beer from his brewery. We have a professional relationship, nothing more.”

“He’s attracted to you,” Orson said, a low growl edging his voice. “I could smell it that night.”

“Yeah, you see…” I raked my hand back through my hair. “He’d asked me out earlier that day. I turned him down but said he should hang out while we were open. I guess after a couple drinks, he had enough liquid courage to try again. He was very embarrassed about it and has been nothing but professional since. I trust Kaz, he’s not a creep.”

“Okay, that’s good to hear.” Orson stood from his rock and held his hand out to me. “Let’s find you a stream to wash up in.”

“Wash up? I’m not done yet.” I gestured down to the half-cleaned bird.

“Yes, but you’ve been touching your hair and face while you talk.”

I froze, horrified. “Oh my God, are you serious?” As a reflex, I started bringing my hands up to my face before remembering and stopping short.

Orson was trying to hold back a laugh as he gestured at me. “It doesn’t look bad, kind of like war paint. But it doesn’t seem like your style, so…”

“Shut up.” I stood up, holding my bloody, gut-smeared hands away from my body. “Help me find some water.”

“You can’t smell it?”

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