Page 35 of Clashing With The Grumpy Wolf

“Just rest for now.” I tell her as we lock eyes. “I’ll take care of everything.”

I glance over to find her eyes closing, her body finally surrendering to exhaustion. She looks vulnerable in her sleep, the lines of tension around her mouth softening. Something protective and possessive coils in my chest.

By the time I pull up to my cabin, she's fully asleep, her breathing deep and even. The windows glow with the automatic timer lights I'd set, making the place look welcoming against the darkening forest. I circle the truck and open her door carefully, gathering her into my arms again.

"Hmm?" She stirs slightly as I carry her up the porch steps.

"We're here," I say softly.

She blinks in confusion at our surroundings but doesn't protest as I carry her inside. I settle her on the sofa, wrapping her in the thick wool blanket that lies across its back.

"Stay here," I tell her. "I'll get a fire going and get you something warm to eat."

I move to the hearth, arranging kindling and logs with practiced efficiency. Within minutes, flames leap upward, casting warm light across the room and beginning to chase away the chill. Julia watches through half-lidded eyes, the blanket pulled tight around her shoulders.

"How long were we down there?" she asks, her voice rough with fatigue.

"At least twelve hours," I answer, moving to the kitchen. "You need food and something warm to drink."

I pull homemade chicken and vegetable soup from the freezer and set it to heat on the stove, then slice bread from the loaf I purchased at the bakery yesterday morning.

My movements are automatic, practiced from years of caring for myself, but there's something different about doing these tasks for Julia. My wolf preens at being able to care for her, to provide for her.

Double shit. The beast is way too attached to her. But there’s nothing I can do to prevent it from happening.

It’s the mate bond. I know it. I’ve known it since the moment I caught her scent.

But it doesn’t mean that Julia will accept it.

When I return to the living area with a tray, Julia has shifted to sit closer to the fire. The flames highlight her profile, the elegant curve of her neck, the curl of her lashes against her cheek. Something tightens in my chest at the sight of her in my space.

She belongs here. She belongs by my side.

"Eat," I say, placing the tray on the coffee table before her. "You'll feel better."

She doesn't argue, accepting the bowl of steaming soup with grateful hands. Her hunger becomes apparent once she starts eating, and I watch with satisfaction as some color returns to her cheeks.

"Thank you," she says between spoonsful. "This is really good."

"My mother's recipe," I admit. "One of the few useful things she gave me."

Julia's lips curve in a small smile.

"Besides the glowing eyes and fangs?"

"Those are from my father's side," I reply, surprised to find myself joking. "Mom just contributed the charming personality."

Her laugh, though quiet, eases something tight inside me. We sit in companionable silence as she finishes her meal, the crackling fire and occasional pop of settling logs the only sounds.

"Do you think the thief planned it?" Julia asks finally, setting her empty bowl aside. "Locking us in the cellar?"

I consider this, leaning back in my chair.

"I don’t think so. I think they set up the alarm to draw us away while they went to the cellar, but I don’t think they planned on you noticing them. That’s why they locked us in. Because they didn’t want us seeing them run away."

"The question is why did they go down to the cellar?" Julia pulls the blanket tighter around her shoulders. "If we figure this out, then we’ll be one step closer to retrieving the tiara."

"We'll figure it out," I assure her. "But not tonight."