Page 53 of Hawke

“That’s what I’m doing. I need to check on a few things, and I’ll be back. If I’m not back by dinner, I want you to order some pizza. Do not come out of your room, lock the door, and when I get back we will talk, okay?” I pulled my wallet out, handing her a hundred.

Taking care of her physically wasn’t the only way I would protect her. She would have everything she ever wanted—a house with a picket fence, a place to live when I’m gone, clothes, and food on the table. She would live like the queen I saw her as.

Delilah looked at the money and back at me. Her face, now solemn, shifted to a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Okay, fine.”

The hair on my wolf’s back rose.“Danger, danger, Will Robinson.”

“Who the fuck is Will?”

“Doesn’t matter, he’s dead now, and you will be too if you leave her.”

“She said it was fine,” I replied to my wolf.

“When a woman says fine, she is in fact, not fine. Do you even know how to take care of our mate? Maybe you should let me take over. She sure loved me this morning.”

I gritted my teeth, looking Delilah in the eye. “I’ll be back. I promise.” I traced my thumb over her cheek, giving her a kiss on the forehead. “And we will talk, figure things out between us, okay?”

Delilah nodded, and I patted her ass as she got off the bike. I waited until she unlocked the door and stepped inside. She shut the curtains quickly and an unsettling feeling settled in my stomach.

She only shut the curtains when she was pissed.

“Oh, you fucked up.”

“I told her I was coming back,” I replied, revving the engine. “First, we need to find out about this mystery magic mustache fucker. If he puts too many pieces of the puzzle together, we could be fucked.”

I might spill blood today to keep my Delilah safe.

My wolf stayed silent, knowing exactly what I said to be true.

Chapter Eighteen

Delilah

Thatstupiddouchenoggin.

He left. He left after he knew how I felt about that. I thought he would change, that he would stay. And yeah, I’m childish, thinking he would stay with me after that orgasm wake-up call this morning, but he could have run his “errand” while I was working.

He said we wouldtalklater.

Now I’m stuck with my own thoughts, and that could be a dangerous thing. Especially when my body and my mind were out of sorts.

Because a switch flew on in the bathroom this morning, and I’m not talking about the light switch. I felt myself being connected to Hawke, like a live electrical wire that had sparked to life. It was dead before, still connected to us but now, someone turned up the juice, and the generator was running.

I craved him more than pumpkin pie at Thanksgiving.

The feeling of animosity and admiration mixed together and overwhelmed me. Because I was supposed to be mad and make him work for me. But at this moment, all I wanted was for him to stay close to me. It was like my body felt it was absolutely wrong to be leaving him the moment he stepped away from me. Nausea rose in my throat because I didn’t know where he was.

Panic, pure panic.

Why was I feeling this?

I locked the door, pushing the curtains closed. As the room plunged into darkness, I turned on the light. It illuminated the room and then my eyes darted to the bed.

Although I’m not sure how, a familiar scent lingered in the air, and I somehow knew it was him. It wasn’t just the peppermint, but more of an earthy, musky smell, and it decorated the bed so beautifully.

I wanted to roll in it and be engulfed by our combined smells. We hadn’t even made the bed this morning. In the past, I was well known for always making my bed. It was a routine instilled in me at an early age. But for the first time in ages, I didn’t make it.

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