Page 78 of Wolf's Reckoning
It wasn’t gentle.
It was aclaiming. A challenge. A dare wrapped in fire and frustration.
I tried to speak, but he didn’t give me the chance. His hand slid from my wrist to the back of my neck, fingers tangled in my loose hair, holding me there, angled perfectly for him to deepen the kiss. His tongue swept in with ruthless precision, tasting, teasing, taking.
My thoughts shattered.
Because dammit, I wasreacting. My fingers fisted in the front of his shirt, not to push him away—but to hold on. My knees buckled under the weight of the kiss, molten and merciless, my body arching toward him despite every single logical reason not to, feeling his hand press against my lower back.
Wolfe broke the kiss just enough to speak, his breath hot against my lips. “What were you saying, princess?”
I hated the smug twist of his mouth. Hated the sound of hooting and hollering from the pack. Hated that he had regained the upper hand so effortlessly.
Hated how much I wanted him to do it again.
“Say something now,” he murmured, voice thick with heat, lips brushing over mine once more, tongue tasting mybottom lip, “and I’ll make you forget your name. Right here.”
Wolfe let me go, the gleam in his eyes victorious as the pack reacted to hisshow.
“I’m going to spit in your soup,” I told him under my breath as I fixed my shirt. I looked up at him as the bastard tilted his head back and let out a roar of laughter.
“Adds to the flavor,” he said when he looked back at me, grinning widely. He walked past, slapping me on the ass as he did so, making me jump, much to my pack’s delight. “I’ll see you at dinner,wife,” he called over his shoulder. “Save me a seat.”
I made my way to the kitchens, forcing a laugh out as people called out to me, commenting on ourplayfulness, and halfway across the clearing, I realized with bittersweet clarity that my pack waslaughing.
Happy.
Wolfe wanted to show them a united front, wanted them towantto fight what may be coming for them, and what better way to do that than to show a leader and his wife asunited. The worst part wasn’t that he was right. It was that part of me—deep down, clawing at my ribcage—wantedhim to be.
I’d intended to go to the kitchens. My mourning period was over, and while it pained me that I seemed to be the only one who mourned, I knew I needed to get it together, because Wolfe wasn’t hanging about. Threats didn’t wait until it was convenient for you, and Wolfe knew that.
Wolfe.
What the heck was that kiss? I knew I’d provoked him, but…I could still taste him. I had to stop myself from looking back over my shoulder like a lovesick pup. With a slight shake of my head, I knew the kitchens could wait; I needed a moment. I’d only been out of my rooms for twenty minutes max, and my world was spinning.
I didn’t go far. Just to the outer path, where the trees gave a sense of peace, and the wind through the branches sounded like voices from a time when my world wasn’t getting more and more out of control.
I couldn’t breathe inside the Hollow anymore. I couldn’t settle knowing my father was no longer here with me. Seeing his memory being erased in front of me was so hard.
Everywhere I looked, Wolfe’s fingerprints were etched into the bones of my home—subtle, sure, spreading like frost under the door.
And the worst part? The packwelcomedit.
How could I blame them? This is what packs did. An alpha died or was replaced and the pack moved on. That’s what we were meant to do.Evolve.
Wolfe looked like an actual alpha. Spoke like one. Moved like one. The kind that brought order out of chaos. The kind they’d follow into fire…and I resented him so much for it.
Not because he was unworthy—but because hewas. He was who my father chose, and he was every bit the leader my dad had seen in him.
And it hurt.
It hurt so much that my dad didn’t get to see him meet the challenge my dad had given him. It hurt that my dad would never see his pack laughing again, free from the burden of sorrow.
I sat on a moss-covered boulder and pulled my knees tomy chest, fists clenched in the fabric of my pants as I fought back my tears. I missed him so much. It wasn’t fair.
Life was seldom fair.
I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. I could still smell the smoke from the Binding rite in my hair, even though I’d washed it three times. Still feel the weight of it—of expectation, of grief, of the Goddess’s unseen hand pressing on my back.
