Page 94 of Wolf's Reckoning
“I know.” She turned back to her plate and started making her own sandwich.
I didn’t reply. I left before I did something stupid. I left the silence behind, because that silence? It was starting to sound a lot like want.
The door slammed behind me with more force than necessary. I told myself it was the frame sticking again and made a mental note to look at it later.
I knew it wasn’t.
The morning air hit like a slap, but it did nothing to clear my head as I ate my breakfast sandwich in three bites. Damn, even the way she cooked bacon was fucking delicious. Goddess, this wouldn’t do at all. I needed to get my head back in the game.
We didn’t even like each other, why were we both fighting this insane attraction? An attraction that shouldn’t exist.
I stalked toward the woodpile at the edge of the tree line, hands clenched, breathing unevenly. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She was supposed to be distant. Distrustful. Cold, maybe. But manageable.
Instead? She smelled like temptation and need, like every instinct I’d buried years ago was clawing its way to the surface, howling for her, and that shouldn’t have been possible.
There was a constantpulltowards her—a tugging in my gut—that shouldn’t be there. It felt more likewantthan lust, and fuck knows I didn’t need an excuse to lust after her. She felt perfect in my arms.
“Fuck.”
We were faking it.Pretending. Going through the motions for the sake of a pack and a legacy and a dead man’s last wish. But my wolf didn’t give a damn about any of that. Notwhen she touched me. Not when she looked at me with fire in her eyes and defiance in her soul.
I saw a woodpile, and in an act of desperation to clear my mind, I decided to chop wood and get thisaggressionout of my body. I gripped the axe beside the chopping block and slammed it down into the first log. It splintered instantly.
Yes, this is what I needed.
I lifted the axe and went through the methodical routine of chopping wood as my heart pounded. Not from the swing but fromher. From the whisper of her scent on my clothes. From the way my wolf had gone still the second she brushed against me, like he’d just come home.
From something deeper. Something ancient. Something I didn’t recognize butmy wolf did.
“You look like you’re going to punch the forest in the face,” Killian drawled from behind me, arms folded like he hadn’t just materialized out of thin air like some smug little specter. “Want to tell me what she said that made you go full lumberjack rage?”
I didn’t answer. Just yanked another log into place and shattered it with one clean strike.
Killian whistled low. “I’m going to assume this is less about firewood and more about that look on your face. You okay?”
“I’m fine.” Classic lie. Weak.
Killian snorted. “You’re sweating through your shirt, and your wolf’s pacing like he’s about to jump out of your skin, because your eyes are fucking glowing. Try again.”
I set the axe down, jaw locked. “It’s not her. It’s not—” But the words burned on the way out.
Killian stepped closer, gaze sharpening, his mouth dropping open. “Oh, shit.” I didn’t say anything, my silence was enough. He blinked like he couldn’t believe it. “You’re feeling it?”
Silence.
He dropped his voice. “Holy shit, are you feeling”—he looked around quickly, ensuring we were alone—“amatebond?”
I turned my face away. The wind shifted, and I caught the faintest thread of her scent on it—like warm skin and coming rain. And fuck me, my chest ached.
“It can’t be,” I muttered. “We’re just faking it, it’s just…it’s nothing.”
“Unless it was never fake,” Killian said, carefully stepping closer. “Unless this—her—it’s real.”
I hated how much I wanted to agree. How much that possibility made my wolf settle.
“It makes so much sense.” Killian exhaled, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “But, not going to lie, that complicates things.”
I snorted. “Understatement of the year.”
