Page 22 of Craved By the Werewolf
THORNE
"Perfect! Just a little closer together," the photographer called out, gesturing for us to move. "We want to capture that natural chemistry." My arm brushed hers as we shifted, and the spark was instant—an echo of the kiss that neither of us acknowledged.
Two days since the Lookout. Two days since I'd felt her lips on mine, then pull away with talk of LA. No calls. No texts. Just silence and the memory of her scent. Now we stood shoulder to shoulder, playing our parts for the cameras while my wolf paced restlessly beneath my skin, wanting to claim what it considered mine.
"Can I get a big smile?" A rapid series of electronic clicks followed as the camera captured multiple shots in succession.
Cameras flashing. Teenagers watching with barely contained excitement. Nothing natural about any of it. But I kept my expression neutral, my stance controlled. Haven House needed this. The fundraiser mattered. My discomfort didn't.
"Try to look like you don't want to murder the camera," Vala murmured beside me, her voice carrying just enough humor to take the edge off. But there was something different about her today—softer somehow, more genuine than the sharp-tongued radio host I was used to sparring with.
"This one's good," Lana Martin said from her spot near the Haven House sign, reviewing the shots on the photographer's digital display. "You both look natural."
"Natural," I repeated under my breath.
"As natural as a Greek statue," Vala said quietly, and when I glanced down at her, I caught the hint of a smile. "But a friendly Greek statue."
"I can be friendly."
"Evidence suggests otherwise," she said, but there was warmth in her voice that made something ease in my chest.
"Okay, let's try a few with the kids," the photographer suggested. "This is about community, after all."
The teenagers needed no encouragement. They swarmed around us with the kind of enthusiasm that only came from being the center of attention, and suddenly the formal photo shoot became something else entirely.
"Alpha Thorne!" Lily called out, nudging in next to me. "Is it true you can take down a rogue vampire with just one look?"
I raised an eyebrow at her. "Who told you that?"
"Instagram," she said with absolute seriousness.
"Should I be worried you're trying to steal the spotlight in these photos?"
"Only if it gets me standing this close to you," I said, letting just enough of a smile tug at my mouth to make it clear I wasn't entirely joking.
Her fingers brushed my sleeve as she shifted, light as a whisper but enough to make my pulse spike. She gave a soft huff of amusement, the kind that made her eyes warm, and moved to stand beside me.
For half a second, our arms touched—an accident, maybe, but neither of us stepped away. That's when her scent pulled me in again. It slid under my skin before I could brace for it, sparking through my blood and making my wolf go still in the way it did when prey stepped into view.
The next hour revealed a side of Vala I'd never expected. Photo after photo, she was patient with the photographer's requests, gentle with the kids' teasing, and completely in her element talking about Haven House.
"You know," Lily said during a break between shots, "Vala's the one who convinced the Council to fund our art therapy program."
"Really?" I looked at Vala, who had gone slightly pink.
"It wasn't just me," she said quietly. "I just... asked the right questions at the meetings. Got people thinking about why creative expression matters for kids figuring out their newfound abilities."
"She fought for it for months," Theo added. "Did this whole series of interviews with art therapists and former Haven House kids. Made the Council look like jerks if they said no."
The photographer gestured for us to move closer together for another shot. This time, when Vala placed her hand on my arm, there was nothing hesitant about it. Her fingers lingered for a second too long, and my wolf caught the hesitation in her eyes—like she was wondering if the contact meant more than it should. The touch was warm, natural, and my wolf practically purred at the contact.
"No one ever mentioned that," I said, low enough that only she could hear.
"It's not about me," she replied simply. "It's about them."
This wasn't just a cause she supported from a distance. This was like her family, her home, the place that had shaped the woman standing beside me. The realization settled into my chest like a weight.
"Okay, I think we have enough photos," Lana said after another few minutes. "Why don't you two do a quick Q&A session with the kids? They've been working on questions all week."
