Page 10 of Anders
The thought made his chest ache.
Tactical assessment first, he told himself firmly.Evaluate the threat.Protect the pack.Everything else is secondary.
But as he turned to head back to his command center, Anders knew he was lying to himself.
Nothing about this situation would ever be secondary.
He forced himself to run, to focus on the tactical aspects of what he’d learned.
The house’s vulnerabilities.The sight lines that needed to be blocked.The security measures that needed to be implemented, the new cameras he needed to install.
Not the way his mate’s scent still filled his nose, making his wolf want to howl in frustrated need.
Not the way his entire body hummed with the urge to turn back, to go to her, to claim what his wolf knew was his.
Focus.Plan.Protect.
Those were the words Anders repeated to himself as he ran through the desert night, his wolf’s agony a constant counterpoint to his forced discipline.
He would do his job.He would protect his pack.
Even if it meant denying his own mate.
Even if it killed him.
The Old Packhouse came into view, its familiar bulk a stark reminder of his duties.Anders paused at the tree line where he’d left his clothes but didn’t shift back immediately.Instead, he allowed himself one long moment to feel everything his wolf was experiencing—the pain, the longing, the bone-deep certainty that he’d found his mate.
Then he locked it all away.
He had a report to prepare for Malcolm.Security measures to implement.A pack to protect.
Everything else would have to wait.
No matter how much his wolf howled in protest.
CHAPTER 3
THE NEXT MORNING, ETTAawoke to bright morning sunshine streaming through the window of her new bedroom.
It had taken longer for her to fall asleep than it should have, the memory of those eyes combining with the unfamiliar sounds of a new house to keep her awake well into the night.
Thankful the house had come furnished, Etta had made up the bed with the sheets and blanket she’d found in a linen closet and finally, after hours of tossing and turning, managed to fall asleep.
Despite the sense of being watched that had plagued her.
Now she mentally thanked her landlord for having had the foresight to include a small container of instant coffee in the cabinet.
Sipping the bitter liquid—the meager supplies in the cabinet hadn’t included any sugar, and the refrigerator had been totally empty, so she didn’t have any milk or creamer to add either—she stepped out onto the small concrete square that made up the front porch in front of the doorway and examined the property the company had rented for her.
Immediately, she cataloged its boundaries, noting the property lines as if they’d been marked in invisible ink only she could see.
That territorial instinct struck her as odd—she’d never been particularly concerned with property boundaries before.After forcing down the rest of the bitter coffee, she gathered her laptop and notes, determined to make progress on getting the newspaper up and running again.
The drive into town was short but enlightening.She noticed three different types of delivery trucks making their morning rounds, cataloged which businesses were already open, and noted the steady stream of people heading to the diner for breakfast.
Good information for planning distribution routes, she told herself, ignoring how her heightened awareness felt more primal than professional.
As she parked her car and stepped onto the sidewalk, she was immediately assaulted by the town’s morning scents wafting past her.Sage and other botanical fragrances intensified by the morning sun.Motor oil from the auto shop two blocks over.Coffee and bacon from the Desert Sunrise.
