Page 12 of Forcing Fate (Wildheart Pack #1)

Nora

Things almost seem normal. Music plays on Cole’s phone while I read one of the library books he brought back for me.

I keep waiting for somebody to interrupt with some insane demand, or maybe to burst in with violence, but it never happens.

I need to get used to feeling safe. Maybe I need to give myself permission to feel that way.

Even if I do, I’m sure it will take time.

That’s the thing I don’t think Cole understands.

I need time. Fate might have decided in the blink of an eye to put us together, and the mating bond might have taken no time at all to set in, but I’m still half human and life doesn’t always work that way.

He keeps expecting me to just push everything behind me and start fresh.

He doesn’t understand how much I wish I could, because that would mean moving on from everything else dragging me down.

The slightest creak of the floorboards, and I jump, prepared for a punch or a kick or to have my worthlessness screamed at me.

I’d love to forget all about the years of abuse that left me in this shape. What a gift that would be .

The soft chime cuts through the music and draws my attention. A text. Right away, curiosity makes me pick up the phone, even if it isn’t mine and even if it’s an invasion. I’m not trying to unlock his secrets or anything like that. I’m only curious.

Isn’t it funny what we tell ourselves when we’re trying to come up with reasons for doing what we probably shouldn’t?

I recognize the name right away. Connor is one of the guys Cole used to hang out with a lot around school. It got to the point where if I saw Connor in the hall, I knew Cole had to be close behind him—I would usually duck into the girls’ bathroom or the nearest empty classroom, just in case.

When are we going to hang out? Summer is moving fast. We need to take advantage.

I can only imagine what that means. Probably going to the lake, or maybe the pool, and staring at girls in their bathing suits. I don’t even want to think about anything more than that.

There are a lot of threads in his text app. Tara, Zeke, Declan—no surprise, they’re at the top of the list, the most recent exchanges besides Connor. Under Declan’s name, there’s the name Sarah.

Sarah? I guess there were a few girls with that name at school, but it’s not like I knew any of them.

There’s no last name attached to the contact, either.

I shouldn’t look into it, should I? This is a mistake.

I’m almost holding my breath, listening for anybody on the other side of the bedroom door.

Like someone’s going to shine a big spotlight on my face and accuse me of being a snoop.

But nobody does that .

What harm could it do? I just want to know who she is, and who she is to Cole. He’s my mate, right? Shouldn’t I know these things? That’s what I ask myself as I open the thread of messages.

Hey, sexy. When am I going to see you?

A bunch of us are going drinking down at the lake. Will I see you there? I’d better.

You know, I love it when you wear those tight T-shirts. Even if you’re so distracting in them.

You smell good today. My mouth was watering when you walked past in the hall.

My hands tighten on the phone until my knuckles ache.

Who the hell is this girl? The way she’s talking to him…

does that mean… he slept with her? Maybe they even dated.

I don’t know if I would rather go through every last message or stop here and spare myself even more jealousy.

And that’s what it is, too. I’m jealous.

It’s a bitter, burning sensation that slowly spreads from my heart throughout my chest. Infecting me.

The infection is so bad, I don’t hear the footsteps on the stairs until it’s too late.

The door is already swinging open when I realize Cole is coming in.

My heart tries to leave my body through my mouth before I toss the phone down on the bed like it burns. “Hey...” Sure. Very casual. Very smooth.

His gaze moves from my face to the phone and back again. One eyebrow slowly arches, and his lips purse before the shopping bags in his clutches drop to the floor. “What were you doing?” he asks, crossing the room in a few long strides .

This is it. This is when all of his promises to protect me and keep me safe fall flat. “I…” Why did a single syllable come out so shaky?

He reaches over me for the phone, and that’s when it happens before I can think about it. I flinch, drawing my knees up to my chest, ready for whatever happens next. The inevitable pain that’s such an integral part of my life.

“Nora.” He almost sounds disappointed. When I force myself to look up at him, I see nothing but sadness. “I’m not going to hurt you. Is that what you thought I was about to do? No one will ever hit you again.”

Can I believe him? I guess I’ll find out once he figures out I was going through his phone.

He picks it up, scrolls through it, then lifts a shoulder and tosses it back to the bed. “You can read my messages if you want to. I have nothing to hide from you.”

This is almost too bizarre. I should be used to it by now, right? “Really?”

“Sure. You’re my mate. I trust you.”

“Who is Sarah?” I blurt out. He has nothing to hide? Let’s find out.

The corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk. “A friend. Nobody important.” When he tips his head to the side, his smirk turns into a grin. “What are you asking? Whether I’ve slept with her?”

He’s enjoying this. It almost makes me wish he would hit me, instead. “I guess so.”

The rush of relief that comes with him shaking his head is powerful, loosening my chest, clearing some of the storminess in my head. “No,” he replies. “Never. With anyone. I was waiting for my mate.”

He was waiting for me? I was his first? Deep inside, part of me clings to this tiny bit of information and holds it close.

Then he rubs his hands together briskly, like he’s excited. “I want to show you what we bought. Tara went a little crazy, but I think you’ll like it. At least I hope you do.”

He picks up the bags and leaves them on the bed for us to unpack together.

“Oh, my god, look at all of this!” I can’t help but laugh almost in disbelief at everything he brought back.

There are clothes—leggings, shirts, socks, and underwear.

In another, there’s just about every kind of sweet-smelling body wash, lotion, shampoo, and conditioner imaginable.

There are also a lot of things I don’t even know what to do with.

Skin care products mostly, with names I don’t think I could pronounce if I tried.

“Books,” I whisper, running my fingers over the spines. So many books.

“I didn’t know what kind you like, so I went off of what I found at the house.” Then he dips his hand into one of the bags and pulls out a phone. “I got this for you, too.”

A phone of my own. I was too young to have one when Mom was alive. She used to tell me I had to wait until I was twelve. “I think I’m the only person in the whole world who didn’t have a phone until now,” I whisper, staring down at it in wonder. It’s really for me? He thought of everything.

Including what rains down on the bed when he turns the bag upside down. Chocolate, tons of it. Bars, truffles, bags of candy. “I grabbed every kind I could find.”

“I’ll be eating this for a year!” I have to laugh, if only in disbelief. “You’re spoiling me.”

“That was the idea. But there’s one more thing.” There’s a wicked gleam in his green eyes when he ducks back out of the room, reaching for something in the hallway.

I can hardly believe my eyes. This can’t be real. There’s no way he’s carrying a gorgeous, shining acoustic guitar. “Are you serious?” My hands shake a little as I reach for it when he holds it out. It’s so beautiful, brand new.

“Of course. Don’t you think it’s about time you start practicing again? I told you. I want you to have everything you want or need. And if you decide you don’t like playing, maybe I’ll buy a piano. Who knows?”

The idea makes me laugh. It’s kind of absurd, but I wouldn’t put it past him after everything he’s done today. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

“And there you are, thinking you didn’t know what to say.

” Smirking, he clears a spot on the bed and sits down.

“I also got you something else. I visited the pack doctor—he’s a family friend, practically one of us.

He gave me an ointment that should help speed up the healing of your bruises and the wounds on your feet. Can I put it on you?”

A cold chill passes over me at the thought of inviting his touch.

Though the idea of healing quickly is appealing enough to make me reluctantly agree.

“Okay. Sure.” I turn to the side, facing the wall behind the bed, then slowly lift the back of my shirt to expose the ugliness.

I’m sure the most recent bruises are at the peak of their nauseating color by now.

“This will help,” he murmurs, and a moment later, something cool touches my skin .

But it’s his skin that makes me tingle in a dangerous way. Every touch, every gentle caress. The sizzle of heat that travels straight to my core and pools there.

“How does that feel?” His low, deep voice makes my toes curl, and my heart skip a beat.

I’m starting to melt, wishing I could lean into his touch.

Wishing I could give my wolf what she wants.

She’s in there, even if I can’t shift into her.

All those instincts that have lain dormant all these years.

He has woken all of that up, and now I want to explore.

It would be so easy to turn around and kiss him now. He wants me to, I know it. He’s only waiting for me to drop my guard. I’ve stayed strong until now, but I don’t know how much longer I can be strong when it feels so right.

His hand lingers in the center of my back, and for a few breaths, neither of us moves. I can almost taste desire in the air. Wouldn’t it be nice to give in? To forget the past?

A look over my shoulder reveals his darkening eyes, his flared nostrils. He’s in this moment with me, wanting me the way I want him. Just kiss him already. You know you want to. I do, I do so much, but I can’t. I can’t forget.

“Thank you. I think I can handle my feet,” I tell him, picking the tube of ointment up off the bed. The moment is over, and the air isn’t crackling with electricity anymore. I feel his disappointment, but he goes with it, getting up, making space in his dresser for my clothes.

While he does that, I take care of my feet, then sit with them resting on the bed, looking over the books he bought. He was really thoughtful today. Another thing about him I wouldn’t have guessed. His capacity for thoughtfulness .

The rest of the day passes slowly. Mostly because having Cole by my side is becoming more and more difficult without wanting to touch him.

Trying to keep myself distracted, I taste test some of the chocolate he bought and try on some of the clothes.

I use an app on the phone to help me tune my guitar.

I do pretty well until we set up my phone, and he sits so very close to me, even leaning over to show me the screen.

His masculine scent is so overwhelming, I can’t think about anything else.

By the time we eat sandwiches and French fries for dinner, I feel like I’m balancing on a tightrope. I’m about to tip over and fall into something I’m fighting really hard to avoid.

When it’s time for bed, I rush into the bathroom and take a few calming breaths away from him.

I have my own toothbrush now, which I gladly use, before I change into my new nightshirt.

Someday, when I can stomach the thought of speaking to her, I’ll have to thank Tara for picking out my clothes and stuff.

On my way back to the bedroom I force myself to recall the past, to not forget what he has done to me, but it’s becoming harder to do so with this mating bond so strong between us.

“Did you have a good day?” Cole asks in the darkness while I lie on my back, staring up at the ceiling.

I’m so warm, I don’t want to use the blanket that’s covering his naked body.

A body I can’t stop thinking about and remembering and longing for.

I feel like my skin is going to split—like it’s stretched too tightly over my frame.

“I did,” I manage to tell him while clenching my fists and digging my nails into my palms. This way, I can’t reach out and touch him.

“Good. I feel like I did something right. ”

I stare at the ceiling for a few minutes before I finally close my eyes, willing myself not to look at him.

Not like it helps, because now I see him in my head.

The happy smile he wore when he gave me the guitar, now propped up in the corner.

The way we laughed together at a show he streamed on his laptop.

The way my heart kept trying to bust out of my chest every time our eyes met.

I’m going to explode if I don’t touch him now. There’s no way I can lie here like this all night and be alive by morning. The strain I’m under will kill me way before dawn.

Opening my eyes, I turn my head to look at him.

He’s asleep, on his side, facing me. His soft snores make me smile to myself while I admire his stunning body, only half hidden by the blanket.

His scent is intoxicating, drawing me in, making my body hum until there’s nothing left to do but what I’ve yearned for all day in the form of a soft, lingering kiss.