Page 8 of Forcing Fate (Wildheart Pack #1)

Cole

She’s been in there too long. It’s too quiet.

I’m not the only one pacing right now, my concern growing by the second.

I feel the wolf in my head. He’s restless, demanding I go after our mate.

Ours to protect. Ours to protect. Those words repeat in my head like a song I can’t get rid of until I finally stop fighting and go to the door.

“Nora?” I knock gently so she won’t be startled, but there’s no answer.

It doesn’t make me feel much better. Knocking again, I raise my voice a little. “Nora, are you all right?”

Fuck this. I want her to know she has space, but I can only go so far. She didn’t lock the door, and the knob turns freely under my hand.

Still, I ease it open so she doesn’t get spooked. I don’t know what I expect to find—her hair floating on the surface of the water with her body underneath? Maybe long gashes down her arms?

Instead, her head rests against the back of the tub, eyes closed, lips parted to allow her soft, slow breathing. She’s asleep. Now I’m glad I came in when I did. What if she slid under the water?

She’s the steel, and I’m the magnet being drawn to it.

I couldn’t help it if I tried, not that I want to try.

I would much rather kneel down next to the tub, moving slowly and silently, watching her.

So peaceful. She can’t hate me when she’s asleep.

Maybe that’s what gives me the balls to reach for her, to take her face in my hands.

How is her skin this soft? There’s so much about her I was never able to discover.

Too many layers of hate stood between us.

Now, there’s nothing but tenderness. Protectiveness. All I want is to take care of her. The question is, will she ever let me?

I would swear she hears my silent question, since she turns her face toward one of my palms and nuzzles it in her sleep.

The part of her that knows this is inevitable is reaching out, trying to make contact.

All I can do is soak it in, filled with gratitude.

That’s new for me. Gratitude has never been a big part of my life.

That’s all that fills my soul as she accepts my touch and even leans into it. It’s humbling, being trusted. It’s more than I deserve after what I put her through.

My wolf insists on more, not that I have to be convinced. Nothing in the world could stop me from leaning in now, touching my lips to hers. Rose pink and full. Like they’re waiting for my kiss.

And sweet. So sweet. For a moment, this is enough. Frozen this way, feeling the way her lips yield under mine. The air crackles around us, charged with pure magic. The bond hums between us .

She’s kissing me back. My heart swells, ready to burst. My breath catches in my chest as the kiss deepens, my tongue parting her lips, testing the warmth inside her mouth. Stroking her tongue until a soft moan stirs in her throat and gets me hard in an instant.

I see myself doing this for the rest of my life. Kissing only these lips. Sharing breath with one person and one person alone. If this is all I have—this sweetness, this completeness—that’s fine with me. I can’t imagine ever wanting anything more.

It’s perfect… until it isn’t.

I feel it when she wakes up and realizes what’s happening.

The instant she goes still. Her moan turns into a gasp, and an invisible wall between us drops into place before she breaks the kiss.

“What are you doing?” Her voice is thick with sleep and confusion, but she’s aware enough to shove me away.

Her smooth, pale skin isn’t so pale anymore. It goes red all at once, and her big, blue eyes flash fire that I would swear singes my hair. “What is wrong with you? What gives you the right? I was sleeping!”

I would tell her what gives me the right—my wolf, and hers, the bond we share—but I don’t think she wants to hear it.

That means having to ignore the indignation that flares in my chest, but I manage to murmur, “Sorry.” I think that might be the biggest lie I’ve ever told.

I’ve never been less sorry for anything as I get up and reach for a towel.

“I don’t need your help,” she mutters, remaining in the tub, as she crosses her arms over her chest, covering her perky tits.

“Don’t be stubborn. I’ve already seen you naked, remember.”

She rolls her eyes, an annoyed huff falls from her lips before she pushes herself up to stand.

The sight of her perfect body sweeps away every thought, every need but the singular desire to mate with her again.

To feel her body under mine, to find pleasure and release in her.

That union. I need it the way I need air and water.

I envy the water running over her bare skin as I help her out of the tub, the towel wrapped tightly around her.

Close. So close. The temptation is all-consuming. I’m trembling, covered in a sheen of sweat as my heart pounds almost painfully and my wolf whines, frustrated and yearning.

Ours. Ours. I need her. I can’t believe how much I need her. And she’s so close, and her scent is so strong, and she belongs to me. She always will.

There is no resisting the pull she has over me.

Not until she turns and glares up at me.

“Excuse me.” Her small hands press against my chest before shoving me away.

She might use all the strength in her body, but all she manages to do is move me a few inches.

That’s enough, though. It snaps me out of this fog she puts me in and gets me moving back to the bedroom so I can resume my pacing while she gets dressed.

I don’t know how long I’ll be able to live like this. Being rejected by my mate. I’m just as surprised by all of this as she is. Instead of trying to get through it together, it’s like we’re on opposite sides in a war. Eventually, she’ll have to come around. Fate won’t let it go any other way.

It feels like an eternity before she almost tiptoes out of the bathroom. “How are your feet?” It seems like the safest question, and I do care.

“I think they’ll be okay,” she mumbles, lifting one to show me the sole. “I guess I won’t be dancing at the ballet anytime soon. ”

She’s funny, though I get the feeling laughing would be the worst thing to do right now.

Still, that would probably be safer than staring at her in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt so worn, so thin, I can almost see her skin through it.

She needs better clothes. She needs her own toiletries. She needs so much.

She also needs to get out of this room. This is her home now. I want her to get used to it. “Why don’t we go downstairs and watch a movie?” I ask.

The energy in the room changes all at once, crackling with uncomfortable tension. “I don’t think that would be a good idea, do you?” she asks before her bottom lip disappears under her teeth. Her taste lingers in my memory, and I have to look away or else risk losing myself to the temptation.

“Don’t worry,” I tell her, guessing at what has her so nervous.

“We’re the only ones here now. Everybody went out while I was making lunch.

” I sort of told them to leave, but it didn’t take much convincing.

They’re as uneasy about all of this as she is, though the reasons are different.

My family knows she must carry a lot of doubt and suspicion and dread.

They also know I’ll kill them if they ruin this for me.

“How did you know that’s what I was worried about?” She shakes her head, cutting off anything I might’ve said. “Never mind.”

“You can’t stay locked up in this room forever,” I tell her, moving toward the door. “We’ve got a big TV down there with a great sound system, and a huge sofa I’ve spent hours napping on.”

“I’m not sure. I…” She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, and I feel what she’s going through. I can almost hear her thoughts. Her questions. Can I trust him? Is this all a trick? Should I let him get closer to me? Torture. That’s the word for it. And I’m the reason why.

“I promise I won’t bite.” Holding my hands up, I add, “You can even pick the movie. Even a girly movie if you want, like comedies and romance and stuff like that. If that’s what you’re into.”

“I told you before, I don’t?—”

“You don’t have any preferences one way or another,” I conclude for her, and she nods.

It’s so damn unfair. She doesn’t even have a favorite type of movie.

There’s so much lost time to make up for, and not only between us.

She has missed so much. And there I was, content to hate her and blame her and torment her for years.

Like she wasn’t already being tormented enough.

It’s sort of a shot in the dark, but I blurt out, “How can you find out what you like if you don’t try? This is your chance to try. Come on, pick a movie, any movie.” Because I’m sure she was never given a choice before. I want her to know she can choose for herself.

Light flickers in her eyes before she nods a little. “Fine. Sure.” Not enthusiastic, but it’s something, anyway.

Once we get downstairs, it’s obvious she’s curious about her surroundings, but doesn’t want to be rude.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch her studying everything, taking it in.

Her eyes almost bulge when she takes a look at the TV—and once I turn it on, she gets a look at all of the movies we’ve either downloaded or can stream from one of the platforms we subscribe to.

“Just about anything you could ever want to watch,” I say, handing her the remote so she can scroll through. “Take your pick. ”

“I could probably sit here and look through all day and never go through everything,” she decides with a shaky, soft laugh that lights up the room. “Are you sure I can choose anything I want?”

“Absolutely, go ahead.” I watch without saying another word as she lands on a movie made about ten years ago, one of those predictable comedies with a cute girl and a handsome guy falling in love in some charming little town. Not the kind of movie I would ever choose, in other words.

She slides an almost apologetic look my way from the corner of her eye. “Mom took me to see this when it came out,” she explains. “My first non-cartoon, non-superhero movie. I felt so grown-up.”

It’s very sweet, and I’m almost proud to be able to give her the chance to watch it again. “Let’s take a look,” I urge, settling down on the sofa, giving her a little room even though my wolf wants anything but. There’s no such thing as being close enough.

And unfortunately, there’s no such thing as relaxing with my wolf urging me on.

I can’t pay attention to anything on the screen when her legs are so lean and smooth, when she twirls a golden strand of hair around one finger.

Every once in a while, she smiles, and I wonder if she’s smiling at the movie, or at the memories it brings back. Maybe a little bit of both. I hope so.

Still, that does nothing for the urge to be close to her. “What are you doing?” she asks when I stand up once the restlessness is too much to fight.

“I need to shift.”

“Oh. Okay.” She gets up, most likely ready to disappear back into my room. “When are you coming back? ”

“I’m not going out for a run.” How do I explain this in a way that won’t spook her? All I can do is be honest. “My wolf needs to be close to you.”

Her delicate brows draw together over an equally delicate nose. “What does that mean?”

“It means what I said. You don’t have to do anything,” I tell her, already stripping off my shirt, unbuttoning my jeans. “But I need to be near you as my wolf.”

She still looks worried, but lets out a shaky breath before nodding without a word.

She sits back down. It’s not like I was waiting for permission, but having her acceptance means more than words can say.

Letting go is a relief, letting the wolf take form once my clothes are off.

It’s incredible, the way everything changes around me, even though I’m what’s changed.

I could already smell her before the shift, but now? The air is heavy with her addictive scent. There is no such thing as breathing deeply enough, inhaling enough of her. I can try though, and I do as I inch toward her. Slowly. I can’t spook her.

She is so beautiful. My wolf’s eyes see what my human eyes can’t.

Flecks of gray and green in her blue depths, wide and shining as they study me.

The fluttering of her pulse in her slim throat.

Every single strand of hair floating around her angelic face.

The fine hairs on her arms. She’s a feast, and I’m starving for every bite.

Finally, I’m standing at her side, near enough to touch. I watch as every muscle in her face twitches while she tries to decide what to do now. Will she run? Shove me away again? Curl up in a ball to protect herself, like I’m a threat ?

Instead of any of that, she reaches out and runs a gentle hand over my fur. The contact is slight—I hardly feel it. Just a little stirring… until she does it again, and this time her hand is heavier. Her touch is more confident. Her fingers run through my fur and warm me all over. It’s bliss.

I look at the sofa, then at her. Can I? She hesitates, but not for long, nodding. I climb up, relieved and excited. She isn’t afraid. She knows this is right. She doesn’t even slide away when my head touches her thigh once I rest it on my paws.

For the first time all day, I’m truly content.

I only hope the feeling lasts.