Page 39 of A Wolf’s Wound

Ryder

“How do you feel about mates?”

If I hadn’t fucked all my brain cells out, I might have waited a bit before asking her. But she looks so beautiful, all dark eyelashes and creamy skin. Her lips are still swollen because of mine, and she’s smiling, and I never want to stop touching her.

I’ve never been a cuddler—usually I just roll over and count the hours until I can leave. But now I see the appeal. I want to keep her close beside me all night and into the morning.

I want to keep her, period.

This is what I want.

Usually, after hooking up with a girl, all I can think of are excuses.

Hell, I usually have them ready beforehand.

I’ve never taken a girl home before I thoroughly explained that I have to work early in the morning or I have an appointment or I have a trip out of town.

Usually, all I can think of are reasons to leave.

Now, all I can think of are reasons to stay.

She’s beautiful and smart, and even her stubborn streak makes me smile.

She’s got a natural talent for judo, her chicken was perfectly seasoned, and I even like her damned raccoon that’s scrounging around for a late-night snack beneath our feet.

She’s not that impressed with pack life, but that doesn’t seem so insurmountable, not when we’re so good together.

But as soon as I say the word “mates,” the smile falls from her lips. She freezes. Slapping her would have gone over better, I think.

Her small hands reach for my chest. For a stupid, foolish moment, I tilt my chin down to kiss her. Instinct. She pushes me back.

“Right.” I clear my throat, pretending there isn’t a giant black hole inside my gut, rapidly devouring every positive emotion I’ve ever felt.

I can’t say she didn’t warn me. Can I? She’s been clear about what she wants in life, and it’s not a wolf shifter. Hannah barely tolerates working for the pack.

She looks miserable, like she’s going to apologize or cry or do something else I can’t stand. I take a few steps back and look anywhere but at her.

Her underwear is on the floor beside a piece of chicken, her shirt is flung over a chair, and Shadow is sitting on her jeans, blissfully unaware of the tension in the room as he sucks on a slice of cucumber.

My jeans are still tangled around my ankles, my shirt still on. Awkwardly, I keep my eyes down as we both straighten out our clothes the best we can.

“I’m going to sleep on the couch.”

Hannah doesn’t argue with that, and the knot in my gut tightens. She hasn’t said anything at all. I should really write a book, I think. How to Move Too Fast and Scare Away the Girl of Your Dreams. It could be a bestseller.

I head out into the living room, sitting heavily on the couch as I hear the shower turn on. She can’t wash me off her quickly enough, I guess. That’s fine. I might have planned a round two for both of us in the shower, but this is probably for the best, anyway.

What if we’re not meant for each other? I’ve seen relationships in my pack implode once one of the couple meets their mate. One guy got married to a girl before she met her mate, and I still remember the messy fights that caused.

I don’t want to think about how I’d feel if someone tried to claim Hannah. The thought of it nearly sends me shifting. I’d rip the man’s throat out, or at least heavily imagine it.

Better to avoid the jail time and the heartache.

It’s not like Hannah’s eager to meet her mate any time soon, anyway. She’s so completely against the idea, and she hasn’t hidden her feelings about how she sees pack hierarchy as archaic at best. Being with me would be like a prison sentence for her.

Hannah takes a long time in the shower, but I don’t dare knock.

I just work up the energy to clean up the kitchen, cursing when my hand slips on a sharp plate.

It doesn’t take long, even in the dark. Gavin and I have had to clean up more than our fair share of messes here while my mom stood in the corner with an eyebrow raised and her arms firmly crossed around her chest.

The shower stops, but I don’t think I can face Hannah right now, even if I do like that shower best. I hop into the guest shower, where the water is ice cold. It’s still dark, but that suits me fine. I stare at my reflection in the dark mirror while I brush my teeth.

Mates. As if there aren’t bigger things to worry about, things I set into motion. While I was buried in Hannah, I didn’t have space for any emotion that wasn’t bliss, but now the guilt comes crashing back down.

She deserves better.

The couch is uncomfortable, and my feet hang off the edge, but I ran nearly ten miles and topped it off with one of the best orgasms of my life. No sooner does my head hit the throw pillow than I sink into a deep, dreamless sleep.

In the morning, I wake without a raccoon on my face, but she’d shut her bedroom door with Shadow inside, so I’m not too surprised. I’m an early riser, anyway, most of the time.

I’m loose-limbed and well-rested. I might have blown my chances with Hannah, but my body is annoyingly sated. Worse, I can’t look at that damned kitchen counter without remembering her legs hooked around my back. God, she just took me inside like I was made for her, no fumbling, no adjusting, no…

Great. Now I’m hard. I just wanted to fry some bacon.

One cold shower and grudging jerk-off session later, and Hannah’s still not awake. That’s fine. She made dinner, and I’ll make breakfast. An easy, strings-free, transactional relationship. We’re practically roommates.

I pinch my nose and sigh heavily. I didn’t think any of this through, not that my lack of forethought is shocking or unusual.

But now we’re going to have to stay together in this cottage while all I’m thinking about is how good it feels to be inside her, and all she’s thinking about is how much she can’t stand me.

This is probably something that warrants a conversation. Instead, I make toast and eggs and cut up some avocado and fuck, it’s almost eleven. Is she waking up anytime this year?

Annoyed, I finally decide to get dressed.

So sue me, maybe I thought the sight of me in my boxers making her breakfast might change her mind.

If not about being potential mates, then about going for round two.

I’m not vain, but maybe I take my time picking out my shirt, opting for the one that looks least wrinkled.

And that’s when I realize her suitcase, stacked next to mine last night, is missing.

“Hannah?”

Maybe she just took it to her room.

“Hannah? Open up.” I bang on her door. “Please.”

No answer.

“I’m opening the door,” I say, but there’s no need for the courtesy.

The door opens wide, revealing a neatly made bed.

Even the throw pillow is deftly tucked into the center of the pillows.

If it weren’t for a trace of raccoon fur on the corner of the bed or the chicken bone sticking out beneath the small writing desk in the corner, I wouldn’t know anyone’s been here at all.

Her scent’s already fading. She must have left in the night while I was sleeping.

Hannah and Shadow are gone.