After dinner, he’d led me upstairs—and instead of leaving me at my room, he’d opened his door and waited, a question in his eyes. I’d answered it by slipping past him and pulling my shirt over my head.
We’d finished what we started in his office, and we hadn’t talked about mating ceremonies or the future or my job with the Dispatch. In the quiet sanctuary of his bedroom, those problems had seemed distant and unimportant.
But the morning had a way of bringing all those things hurtling back. Hugh had risen early, saying he had Council business to take care of, but I had a feeling he was giving me space so I could make a decision about our bond.
That meant making a decision about everything. No matter how nicely I tried to dress it up, the facts were these: being with Hugh meant abandoning the life I’d built for myself. Giving up dreams I’d nurtured since I was a little girl interviewing Barbies in my bedroom.
What would Hugh be giving up? His life would go on as normal. Mine would be nothing but upheaval. And maybe it was worth it. But I didn’t have a crystal ball. I didn’t trust my instincts like he did. For one thing, mine were brand new and largely untested. He’d said himself the mate bond made us crazy about each other. But there was a difference between amazing sex and the everyday grind of living with another person.
He was giving me time to decide, but under that promise was the expectation that I would decide the way he wanted me to. And when I was tempted to give him the benefit of the doubt, all I had to do was imagine his reaction if I announced I was returning to Seattle.
I didn’t have to think in hypotheticals. If push came to shove, he wouldn’t hesitate to go full alpha.
So was I truly making a choice, or was he just humoring me?
Part of my brain—a larger part than I cared to acknowledge—told me none of this was a big deal. I’d landed a financially stable hottie who adored making me come. What was there to complain about? That same part whispered that it was pointless to insist on returning to work. I was a werewolf now, a member of a species that prized secrecy. Investigative reporting was about unearthing secrets, not keeping them. In the age of social media, it wasn’t unusual for reporters to become targets of trolls and disgruntled keyboard warriors. I’d risk exposure with every byline.
The easy, practical thing to do would be to shrug my shoulders, pack up my apartment, and start planning the mating ceremony. It would make Hugh happy. But what kind of precedent would I be setting if I completely rearranged my life to accommodate his? Growing fangs and fur was a major obstacle to my career, but that didn’t mean I was prepared to slip into my role as werewolf trophy wife. As I’d pointed out to Hugh yesterday, he wasn’t just asking for a relationship. He was asking for everything—possibly eternity.
I wasn’t ready to make that kind of commitment. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be ready.
“Deep thoughts again?”
Tanner’s low voice jerked me back to the present. He was staring at me, a knowing look on his face.
I flushed. “Sorry. Just having a small existential crisis.”
He rose from his crouch and dusted his hands. “You’re not the first turned wolf to have one.” He slanted me a look. “I’m sure it doesn’t help that fate matched you with the alpha.”
“It’s…complicated, yes.” That was another problem with dating—mating—Hugh. Our lives would be under a microscope. Relationships were hard enough without that kind of pressure.
A breeze rustled the trees around us, bringing a rush of cool air. The sky was overcast, and the forest was eerily dark for noon. I was glad I’d had the foresight to throw a hoodie over my T-shirt. Still, goosebumps prickled down my arms and legs.
“Maybe we should head back,” I said. “I don’t think I have it in me to shift today.” I was also starving for lunch, but what else was new.
“No problem.” Tanner jerked his head toward a break in the trees. “This way.”
We walked for a bit, and my head was so consumed with thoughts of Hugh that it took me a while to realize we were headed in the opposite direction of the house. I stopped. “Hey, are we going the wrong way?”
“Shortcut.” Tanner kept walking.
I frowned. But he was the tracker. Goodness knew I was sorely lacking in those skills. I’d also been zoning out during his lessons for the past few days, so I was hardly in a position to argue.
But when he splashed into the creek, I couldn’t ignore the sense of foreboding tugging at the corners of my mind. Something was off.
A few steps into the water, I stopped. “Just how long is this shortcut?” I gave a halfhearted smile at my own joke. It died a quick death when Tanner turned around.
His eyes were yellow, his expression cold. “Keep moving.”
Cold sweat broke out across my back. Rapidly, I considered my options. I couldn’t outrun him. I couldn’t fight him off.
My options sucked.
I could talk, though. Reason with him. Stall for time, maybe, until someone back at the house noticed we’d been gone too long.
I swallowed against a suddenly dry throat. “Where are we going?”
“I told you to move.” As he spoke, power licked over me. It was nothing like Hugh’s. More of a pale imitation. But it still made me wince and take a step back.