Page 67 of The Fated Hunter Wolf
“This is ridiculous,” Sable muttered.
“You’re being ridiculous,” I shot back. “Admit it helps and stop making this harder than it has to be.”
“I’m not making anything harder. You’re the one who—” She cut herself off, mouth snapping shut like a steel trap.
“Who rejected you,” I finished helpfully. “Yeah, I remember. Fun times. Question is—do you remember why?”
The words hung between us like a blade waiting to fall. Her face went blank, emotions shuttering behind walls I was starting to recognize as her default defense mechanism.
“I remember,” she said quietly. “Which is why this is temporary.”
She moved closer anyway. One inch. Then another. Until she perched on the edge of my bed, close enough that her knee almost brushed my thigh.
The relief was overwhelming—like someone had just turned off a fire alarm that had been screaming in my head for days. Every ache, every hollow space knitted itself back together. My wolf stretched contentedly, no longer clawing at my ribs to escape. The world brightened, sharpened, became real again instead of some pale imitation of existence.
I could tell she felt it too. Her shoulders dropped. Her breathing evened out. The mask slipped enough for me to see the bone-deep exhaustion underneath.
“Better?” Logan asked.
“No,” we both lied in chorus.
Logan exchanged a look with Eve that probably contained entire conversations about how screwed we all were. “We’re stepping outside. Test how separation affects you withoutsupervision. We’ll be discussing security arrangements for the journey.”
As they moved toward the door, fragments of what happened at the border flickered through my mind. My wolf carrying her. How she didn’t protest. The way she’d felt small and broken against my back, like something precious that might shatter if I moved wrong.
“Don’t go far,” I said before I could stop myself.
The door clicked shut, leaving us alone with enough tension to power a small city.
Silence stretched between us, heavy with all the things neither of us wanted to acknowledge. I could hear her breathing, feel heat radiating from her skin. She sat close enough to touch, and the urge to do so was becoming overwhelming.
Especially knowing what touching her felt like. How she’d responded to my hands, my mouth. The sounds she’d made when I?—
“This doesn’t change anything,” Sable said. Her voice held about as much conviction as a campaign promise.
“Obviously not.”
Her breathing steadied. She looked more alive, and seeing that eased something in my chest that had absolutely nothing to do with supernatural dependency. Nope. Completely unrelated.
“When this is over?—”
“When this is over, we find a way to make the severance permanent,” I cut in, though the words tasted like ash.
She nodded. I could tell she was about as convinced as I was. Which was to say, not at all.
Voices echoed from down the hall—urgent, worried tones that made us both tense like animals scenting predators.
“Security meeting in the hospital means they’re desperate,” I observed.
“More like damage control.” She turned to look at me, her gaze traveling over my face, inspecting injuries with the thoroughness of someone who gave a damn. When her eyes lingered on my mouth, something hot and dangerous unfurled in my chest.
“You’re staring,” I said, my voice rougher than it had any right to be.
“You’ve got blood on your lip.”
She reached out and brushed her thumb across the corner of my mouth. The contact sent shockwaves through every nerve ending I possessed, and probably a few I didn’t know I had. My wolf surged forward, desperate for more of her touch, more contact, more everything she was willing to give.
Memory flooded back—her taste, the way she’d felt on top of me, the sounds she’d made when I’d used my tongue on her in ways that probably violated several public decency laws?—
