Page 14 of Runt of the Pack
As she turns to leave, my roving gaze lands on the rumpled blankets piled in the corner—a makeshift bed that can only be Anya’s. I frown, piecing together the truth.
“Wait,” I call out, my voice harsher than I intended. Anya stills but keeps her back to me. “Have you been sleeping here this whole time?”
Her slim shoulders hunch slightly. “It’s alright, really,” she mumbles dismissively.
I stand swiftly, ignoring the spike of pain the motion causes. “No, it’s not. You gave up your bed for me. That’s not right.” I step closer, suddenly desperate to remedy this unfairness. “You should take it back. The studio floor will be enough for me.”
Anya finally faces me, skepticism plain in her delicate features. “Seriously? Look at you—you’re injured. You need the bed more than I do.”
I cross my arms, resolve hardening my expression. “I won’t rest easy knowing you’re reduced to this for my sake.”
Anya fixes me with a piercing stare. “What exactly are you suggesting?”
Reckless words spill from my lips before reason can rein me in. “We could share the bed.”
Anya’s cheeks bloom crimson. She opens her mouth only to snap it shut, at a loss.
I press on in the loaded silence. “Look. It’s practical,” I assure her. “The bed looks large enough for two."
Anya finds her voice, at last, flustered. “That’s... a generous offer. But I couldn’t possibly...”
Refusing to retract my hasty offer, I tilt my chin up defiantly. “Then it’s settled. We’ll share the bed starting tonight.”
I brush past Anya’s stunned form and gather up her makeshift bedding from the corner. Frozen in shock, she makes no move to stop me as I stride purposefully into the hall.
What have I done? How the hell will I be able to resist her? My wolf has been screaming for me to claim her from the moment I laid eyes on her. Curse my reckless tongue. Yet even knowing the line I tread is dangerous, I cannot bring myself to take back my bold suggestion.
13
ANYA
I hover awkwardly in the open doorway of my bedroom, watching as Vlad turns down the quilt on the wide bed. Our bed, for tonight at least. The intimate implications of that small word—our—make my heart flutter with equal parts anticipation and uncertainty.
“There. It’s all ready,” Vlad says, grey eyes crinkling with warmth as they meet my timid stare. He gestures invitingly to the turned-down sheets. “Please, make yourself comfortable. I’ll sleep atop the covers. Don’t worry.”
I nod mutely, still hovering on the threshold. Vlad’s assured manner helps slow my racing pulse. He intends to stay chivalrous—likely realizing how momentous sharing a bed feels to someone accustomed to solitude, like me. I want to trust his good intentions. My she-wolf certainly does, straining eagerly towards his masculine scent. But old fears have me paralyzed, unable to take that first step over the line.
Sensing my lingering reservations, Vlad moves slowly towards me. He lifts my chin with one rough fingertip, compelling me to meet his earnest stormy gaze.
“You have my word, we will go no further than you wish tonight,” he vows solemnly. “Just sleep, nothing more. You set the boundaries.”
Reassured by his sincerity, I exhale slowly and pad into the room on bare feet. Vlad withdraws to give me space as I slide under the covers he just attentively turned down for me. The sheets still hold his earthy scent, enveloping me in a heady embrace. I ache to pull him down into this nest beside me, wolf and woman stirring as one. But I stay centered on my side, listening to Vlad settle atop the covers beside me after dimming the lamp.
Strangely shy now that we’re finally here, I keep my eyes closed and back turned to him. But the awareness of his presence buzzes through me all the same. The mattress sinks slightly under his impressive bulk. I can hear his measured breathing, sense his radiant warmth even with cautious inches still separating us. My frazzled nerves prickle at his proximity, skin flushed as if he’s already touching me.
“Goodnight, Anya,” Vlad rumbles softly. I nearly jump out of my skin at the sound. His deep timbre so close makes me shiver beneath the covers.
“Goodnight,” I whisper back faintly. An expectant hush falls over the room, magnifying each subtle shift and sound. I try to steady my breathing, to find some semblance of my usual composure. But it eludes me, nerves stretched taut as overtuned violin strings.
Turning my mind from the temptation of the man at my side, I focus determinedly on each inhale and exhale. On relaxing every clenched muscle one by one until heaviness seeps into my limbs. I begin drifting at last, despite the circumstances, lulled into drowsiness by rhythmic shared breaths. Vlad’s presence feels natural, comforting somehow. My last waking thought is the realization that I haven’t felt this safe while sleeping in years...
Gradually, I surface to muted early light filtering through the curtains. For once, my sleep was not fragmented by restlessness or bleak dreams—only a profound sense of peace lingers. I feel cocooned in warmth, pressed flush against another’s body heat.
My eyes fly open, meeting the bare skin of Vlad’s shoulder inches from my face. Sometime in the night, we both shifted towards the center of the bed, legs tangling together while his arm cradles me close. His steady heartbeat thuds under my palm splayed on his chest.
I should pull away, rebuild the careful boundaries between us before he wakes. But I cannot make myself break this tender embrace. I want only to nuzzle closer and let Vlad’s strength surround me a little longer, his spicy cedar scent lulling me back to contented oblivion.
As if sensing my waking tension, Vlad begins to stir. He inhales deeply, chin nudging the top of my head as his hold tightens reflexively. I feel his lashes flutter against my hair before he pulls back slightly to meet my startled gaze.
