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CHAPTER 2

LUCAS

T he wind carries the last traces of Sophia’s scent long after she’s disappeared into the night, something wild and infuriatingly enticing. I shouldn’t still be thinking about her, shouldn’t be standing at the edge of the trees, my hands curled into fists, my pulse not quite steady.

This is a problem.

I’ve been around plenty of defiant she-wolves, plenty of strong-willed females who thought challenging authority made them untouchable. Sophia McKenna isn’t just challenging me—she’s daring me to push back.

And damn if I don’t want to.

I roll my shoulders, trying to shake the way she looked at me, chin tipped up, all stubborn defiance. The way her scent lingered when she walked past, as if she knew exactly how to bury herself under my skin without even trying.

This isn’t about her. The Windriders are a disruption we don’t need. Sophia is a complication I can’t afford, but I don’t walk back toward the lodge. Instead, I follow her.

Her tracks are fresh, cutting through the damp forest floor, deliberate but not hurried. She’s moving with purpose, as if she knows exactly where she’s going. I keep to the shadows, staying downwind, my wolf stalking just beneath the surface, restless in a way I don’t like.

The sound of moving water reaches my ears before I see it, a soft ripple against the stillness of the night. I move closer, steps instinctive, cautious, until the trees part just enough to reveal the scene before me.

She’s standing in the stream—naked—her neatly folded clothes setting on a rock.

Moonlight filters through the canopy, glinting off the rippling surface of the water, casting her in silver and shadow. Her bare skin glows in the dim light, droplets tracing the sharp planes of her shoulders, rolling down the curve of her back. She moves like she’s part of the water itself, dipping beneath the surface before reappearing, slick and untamed.

I shouldn’t be here. I should turn around before she catches my scent, before I make a mistake I can’t take back, but I don’t.

My hands tighten at my sides as she turns, running wet fingers through her hair, her eyes half-closed, unaware of the fact that she’s not alone. There’s something about her—something dangerous—not in the way of an enemy, but in the way of a storm you see coming and walk straight into, anyway. The movement is slight. The briefest turn of her head, her shoulders stiffening just enough to tell me she’s sensed me.

Her gaze flicks toward the trees, toward where I stand, hidden but not hidden enough. For a second, neither of us move. Her lips part, a slow realization settling over her features. Then, instead of reaching for something to cover herself, instead of looking away like any other sane person caught in this situation, she smiles.

"See something you like, Stone?"

Her voice is low, husky, not at all startled. The arrogance in her tone should make me turn on my heel and leave her to her moonlit bath. But I don’t move.

I step forward, slow, deliberate, letting her see that I’m not ashamed of looking. "You should be more careful where you decide to strip down, Windrider."

She leans against a partially submerged rock, stretching her arms out along the edges, watching me with those too-perceptive, too-bold eyes. "Should I?"

I cross my arms, leveling her with a stare. "You’re not in your territory."

She arches an eyebrow. "I don’t have a territory." She tilts her head, assessing me in that way she does, as if she’s deciding what to do with me rather than the other way around. "You tracked me," she says after a beat. "Why?"

That’s the question, isn’t it?

I force my voice to stay even, my control razor-thin. "Making sure you’re not up to anything."

Sophia grins, slow and sharp. "Liar." She runs a hand down her arm, lazy, teasing, watching for my reaction like she knows exactly what game she’s playing.

Arousal surges through my veins before I can stop it. My wolf stirs, watching her the way a predator watches something it doesn’t know whether to chase or sink its teeth into.

"If I didn’t know better, I’d say you wanted to be here."

My jaw tightens. "You don’t know better."

She hums, pushing off the rock, wading toward the edge of the stream. The water skims her waist, licking at the edges of her body, tracing over curves I shouldn’t be looking at, shouldn’t be noticing.

I step back. "Get dressed."

Her grin widens. "What’s the matter, Stone? Don’t you enjoy seeing me naked? Does it bother you, Lucas?"

My name on her lips does something. Something I don’t like.

I turn away, giving her my back. "I’m on patrol. Stay out of Nightshade business."

She laughs softly. "Don’t you mean stay out of your way?"

"Same thing," I mutter, walking off before I do something I’ll regret.

Her voice follows me, wrapping around me like a damn invitation I know I shouldn’t accept, and I already know—I’m going to see her again, whether or not I want to.

I walk away, ignoring her—her laughter following me—or at least I was, before Sophia’s voice wraps around me like a challenge I can’t ignore.

"Didn’t think you were the type to run, Stone," she calls, amusement laced through her voice.

I stop, my back still to her, hands curled into fists. I should keep going. I should let this go. But I do none of those. Instead, I turn.

She’s still in the water, standing now, droplets tracing the curves of her bare skin, silvered by the moonlight filtering through the canopy. She should look vulnerable, caught like this. She doesn’t. There’s nothing vulnerable about Sophia McKenna.

She tilts her head, watching me like I’m the one caught instead of her. "You can pretend all you want, but we both know you didn’t track me down so you could patrol your borders."

I keep my expression unreadable. "You’re in my territory. I needed to be sure you weren’t up to something."

That makes her laugh out loud, bending forward, which results in her luscious breasts jiggling temptingly. "And do you consider me a threat?"

She has no idea. I don’t answer, because every response that comes to mind is a mistake.

She takes a step toward the edge of the stream, water lapping at her thighs. "You’re still looking."

I should force my eyes away. I should tell her to get dressed and leave. I don’t.

Instead, I meet her gaze, steady and unflinching. "You want to play games, Windrider? You will not like how this one ends."

Her grin widens, slow and knowing. "I don’t know about that. Given the size of the bulge in your jeans, I think I might enjoy myself a great deal."

The challenge hangs in the air between us, electric, like a storm building on the horizon. My wolf watches her just as intently as I do, torn between the instinct to dominate and the knowledge that Sophia isn’t the kind of woman who submits easily—if at all.

She reaches for the rock where she folded her clothes but doesn’t bother covering herself. Instead, she stretches her arms overhead, unapologetically baring herself to the night, like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me—daring me to do something about it.

"You don’t like losing control, do you?" she muses.

I let out a slow breath, my patience wearing thin. "And you do like testing limits you don’t understand."

Her gaze locks onto mine, sharp and deliberate. "You think I don’t understand you?"

"I think you don’t know what you’re asking for," I say, my voice lower than I intend.

She steps out of the water, still drenched, still glistening with moonlight, her hair clinging to her bare shoulders, curling around her nipples. She doesn’t rush to dress. She just stands there, watching me, like she’s waiting for me to break first.

Something inside me snaps. One second, I’m holding the line. The next, I’m in front of her, so close I can feel the warmth radiating from her damp skin.

Sophia doesn’t flinch, doesn’t back down. She lifts her chin, eyes burning with something dangerous and reckless.

I grab her wrist, slow but firm, giving her one last chance to walk away. "Get dressed Sophia. You don’t want this fight."

She lets out a soft laugh, husky and full of something wicked. "Oh, but I think I do."

Then she moves.

I don’t know who starts it, but suddenly we’re on each other, the space between us gone in a clash of heat and instinct. My mouth slants over hers, demanding, taking, daring her to push back—and she does.

She fists a hand in my shirt, pulling me closer instead of shoving me away. Her other hand slides up my chest, nails scraping just enough to send a pulse of fire through my veins. I fist her hair, tilting her head just the way I want before biting down on her bottom lip, pulling a sharp breath from her throat.

She presses up against me, forcing me to meet her halfway, her kiss a battle neither of us wants to lose. Her teeth graze my lip, answering my bite with one of her own, her body arching against mine like she’s already claiming me right back.

My control, already razor-thin, shreds into nothing.

I lift her, her legs wrapping around my waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world as I carry her away from the stream and pin her back against the tree behind us. The rough bark scrapes against her skin, and she laughs into my mouth, like she likes it.

"You’re going to be a problem," I mutter, dragging my lips down her throat, feeling the wild pulse beneath her skin.

Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me back up to meet her mouth again, hungry and unrepentant. "So stop pretending you don’t like problems."

I growl, crushing my mouth to hers again, deepening the kiss until we’re out of breath and out of excuses. Damn her. Damn me. Damn, whatever this is between us.

Sophia tastes like fire and storm, wild and untamed, the way the air crackles before a lightning strike. Her body is tightly wedged between me and the rough, unyielding bark; she grips my hair like a lifeline and her warm breath mingles fiercely with mine. Instincts roar for more, obliterating my self-control, but a desperate fragment of sanity claws its way out, dragging me back from the precipice.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not with her. Not with such intensity, but halting seems an insurmountable task. I crash my lips onto hers—one arm braced beneath her, holding her up, while my other hand clutches her hair with fervor. I have her completely ensnared between my body and the tree.

Her nipples, hard like diamond shards, pierce through the fabric of my shirt. I devour her mouth until we are both gasping for air, yet my hunger remains insatiable. The relentless ridge of my erection grinds against the apex of her thighs, brushing her clit and drawing a raw, primal moan from her lips.

I force myself to stop, pulling back just enough to put space between us. My grip on her hips tightens before I set her on her feet, letting go completely and stepping away as if distance alone will erase what just happened.

It doesn’t.

Sophia blinks up at me, still flushed, still breathing hard. Still watching me like she knows exactly what’s running through my head.

"You’re going to act like that didn’t just happen?" she asks, voice husky.

I scrub a hand through my hair, taking another step back. "It shouldn’t have."

She huffs a quiet laugh, shaking her head. "That’s not what I asked."

I grit my teeth, my pulse hammering in my ears. This—whatever the hell this is—was a mistake. She’s a Windrider, a disruption my pack doesn’t need. A distraction I don’t need.

And yet, my damn wolf is still growling and stalking the edges of my control, furious that I stepped away.

Sophia tilts her head, studying me. "Let me guess. You’re going to tell yourself this was just lust. Some base instinct. Nothing important."

"It isn’t," I snap before I can stop myself.

She looks at me skeptically, still standing there completely bare under the moonlight, completely unapologetic. "That’s adorable," she muses. "Really. Keep telling yourself that, Stone."

I narrow my eyes. "Don’t."

"Don’t what?" She steps forward, closing the space I just put between us, and I curse my own stupidity for not looking away.

Sophia isn’t just beautiful. She’s dangerous. She’s the kind of woman who doesn’t just set a fire and walk away. She burns until there’s nothing left.

"I don’t play games," I grind out, jaw tight.

She leans in just enough for her scent to wrap around me again—only this time, it is heavy with arousal. Her lips hover near my jaw. "Neither do I," she murmurs.

My fingers twitch with the urge to grab her again, to pull her back against me and remind us both of how real that kiss was. But real or not, it changes nothing. This isn’t fate. This is a mistake waiting to happen.

I force myself to turn away, to walk, even as my wolf fights me every step of the way.

Sophia doesn’t stop me. She just watches, a knowing little hum of amusement under her breath, as if she already knew I’d run—that only pisses me off more.

I don’t look back. I force my feet to move, my muscles locked with restraint as I push through the trees, away from her, away from the mess I just made.

Every step feels wrong. Every inch of distance a mistake. But I keep going, because if I don’t, I won’t stop.

Sophia McKenna is the kind of problem I won’t survive.