Page 14 of The Alpha's Temptation
“Good luck,” they call.
The forest greets me like an old friend.South of town, the trail narrows, pines shouldering closer.It smells like sun-warmed sap, damp earth, and rabbit trails.Beneath all that is the thrum of home.
My pace is brisk as I run around my Pack’s land.My wolf is on high alert for any signs of danger or anything out of the ordinary that might need our attention.I’m trying to distract myself.It works for about an hour.
Then the wind shifts, and every plan I have burns to ash.
Vanilla sugar and something like summer rain on flagstones.Sweetness I could find blindfolded.My head snaps up.My wolf lunges.
Mate.
I don’t run to her.I stand very still until the first stupid surge of need dulls enough that I won’t do something reckless like scoop her up and throw her over my shoulder.Then I go down the trail because not going would be worse.
She appears around the bend a breath later, a splash of red hair and flushed cheeks, a backpack slung over one shoulder.She sees me and stops, as if we planned this, as if the path was always meant to bring us together.
“Hey,” she says, her blue eyes wide.
“Hey.”My voice is rough.It always is around her now.“You okay?”
She laughs without humor and looks toward the canopy like the trees might have advice.“I thought a hike might help.Clear my head.”She tips her head.“You?”
“Border check,” I say, because admitting I was also trying to outrun my need for her feels too honest.“Mind if I walk you?”
She hesitates for a fraction of a second.Not because she doesn’t want me there; I can smell the want on her skin and the answering throb in my bloodstream.No, it’s because she’s brave enough to keep making the hard choice.
“Yeah,” she says finally, her smile lighting up her face.“I’d like that.”
We fall into step like we’ve been doing it all our lives.The trail narrows and widens, the forest playing its usual games with light.Our shoulders brush once when the ground tilts, and we both freeze, the way you stop after lightning strikes too close.
“Sorry,” she breathes.
“Don’t be.”My hands are fists at my sides, so I don’t reach for her.
We walk.We don’t talk much.That’s new for her.Selena is quiet, but she’s not empty.She has a knack for noticing wildflowers I’d never see and frogs whose throaty croaks rise in a steady rhythm from the reeds.
“Penny texted me,” she says finally.“She’s acting like everything is normal, but if I mention you, she gets kind of cold.”
My heart aches.“Same.”
We go quiet again.A jay scolds us from a tree above.A chipmunk darts across the trail in front of us.
We continue walking for a few moments, an air of helplessness engulfing us.
“I thought about leaving,” she says after a while, the words thin.“For real this time.Packing a bag and getting on a bus to anywhere that isn’t here.”
Every cell in me snaps to high alert.“Don’t,” I say too fast, too sharp.
She glances up, her chin tilting bravely.“I won’t.Not unless…” She doesn’t finish.She doesn’t have to.But I know what she was about to say.Not unless Penny makes this a life sentence.
“She won’t.”I make it a vow so I don’t have to taste the fear under it.“She’s hurt, not cruel.”
Selena nods.She’s known Penny almost as long as I have.Longer, if you count the way best friends braid a lifetime into an afternoon when they’re six and say forever like it might be true.
We come to the overlook where the trail breaks out of the trees, and the town lies in the cup of the valley.General store, barber pole, the roof of the diner glinting, the tiny square of the bookstore where she works.
We stop.The wind tugs at her hair, splaying it across my shoulder.I resist the urge to turn my head and inhale deeply.This is what restraint feels like: heat under my skin with nowhere to go.
“Do you remember when you taught me to skip stones?”she asks suddenly.“I was terrible.You kept saying ‘Again,’ like a coach.”
