Page 18

R owan

It’s about half past midnight when I jolt awake in the driver’s seat of my truck. The glowing clock on the otherwise dark dashboard is the first thing I take note of, confirming that I’ve only been asleep for an hour or so.

After leaving Alina’s house, I shifted into wolf form and did a methodical sweep of the woods within a two-mile radius of the property.

Then, under the cover of night, I shifted back and then drove into town, using scent to find my own way to the house where Noah is currently enjoying time with his friends.

I didn’t go inside. I didn’t even slow down when I passed by the house.

All I did was confirm that he was, in fact, safe and sound.

I returned to Alina’s shortly after that, but instead of sleeping in the driveway, I parked on the side of the road just beyond the end of it.

In spite of my screaming instincts, I wanted to give her a little bit of space after the heavy conversation that we had earlier.

At first, I’m not entirely sure what’s tugged me out of sleep. I narrow my eyes and scan the dark road ahead and behind me, then sweep my senses through the surrounding woods .

All is well. All is quiet.

And yet, there is a loose thread unraveling under my sternum. Something is yanking me toward the house.

Hopping out of the truck, I step into the cool night air and make my way up the driveway. Alina’s house is glowing a dull, grayish-white in the moonlight. It’s completely silent and dark within.

But when I get closer, her scent hits me with such devastating force that it rips the breath from my lungs. That heady lilac aroma is more potent, the subtle hint of spice so much sharper than usual. The scent is enticing and rich, thickened with a telltale sweetness.

Alina is sleeping, if the faint sound of her slow heartbeat and steady breathing is any confirmation.

But she is clearly having a very good dream.

I nearly fall to my knees when I realize what’s happening.

And then I’m moving, my exhausted body and even more drowsy mind allowing the wolf within to take over. Instincts have me stalking across the dewy grass, then halting at the edge of her porch steps.

I look up, locating her bedroom easily on the second floor. There’s a window above the sloped porch roof that will give me much more efficient access than storming through the locked front door.

It’s no effort at all to jump up and grip the edge of the roof, then swing myself onto the shingles, which are thankfully rough enough that my boots don’t slip.

I maneuver up the gentle slope, then crouch in front of the window, peering inside.

My shifter sight kicks in, allowing me to see the outline of Alina’s body sprawled across the mattress on the other side of the room.

She’s a restless sleeper, having kicked the duvet and sheets halfway off the bed.

Her perfect skin is covered in a scrap of silk that barely passes for a nightgown, and suddenly the front of my jeans are uncomfortably tight.

And her scent…

I breathe in deeply, going lightheaded with desire at the same time that I feel a little ridiculous for being such an unashamed voyeur. I should snap out of it and walk away, but I can’t seem to drag my gaze away .

She thrashes in her sleep, twisting onto her stomach.

The curve of her pale thigh catches the moonlight, and the hem of her nightgown is so dangerously close to exposing her bare bottom.

I stumble slightly, clutching the edge of the window to balance myself, but it causes my knuckles to knock against the glass.

I freeze, holding my breath.

This is the part where I’m supposed to remember that I’m a human before I’m a wolf. I’m an adult man living in a society where peeping through someone’s window is definitely frowned upon, even if the scent of her arousal beckoned me like a siren song.

Before I can recalibrate my mind and recall how normal people are supposed to act, Alina lets out a sharp gasp and bolts upright in bed.

As if she knew that I was here, even while unconscious, her gaze locks with mine across the dark expanse of her bedroom.

Really, she should probably be screaming. Or at least hollering expletives. Reaching for her phone to call the cops. Preparing to throw her bedside lamp at my head.

But there is a bond between us that takes only a few seconds to inform her that it’s me, not an intruder.

I watch through the glass as Alina hurls herself out of bed and stumbles toward the window. In one smooth motion, she hauls it open.

Up close, I can see how pink her cheeks are, can sense how feverish her skin is. Not to mention, with her suddenly so close, it’s like I’m drowning in her scent.

“Rowan?” Her voice is hoarse.

She blinks blearily at me, but she doesn’t look horrified that I’m kneeling on the roof of her porch right outside her window in the middle of the night. She doesn’t even look annoyed.

“You…” I clear my throat, trying to remember how to form completely sentences. “Your scent.”

Alina bites her lip, squeezes her thighs together. I bite back a moan.

“I was dreaming.”

“Dreaming.”

“About you.”

This time, I can’t stop the quiet groan that slips out of me. Right now, we’re both animals. Too caught up in the shadows to be anything other than ravenous and primal.

Alina moves closer, leaning against the windowsill. A cool breeze ruffles her hair, and her eyes flutter shut. I reach out and brush her golden hair off her bare shoulder. Her breath catches. Her scent shifts into something deeper. Insistent.

“Alina.” I’m barely in control right now. “I need you to tell me what you want.”

Her lips part in something like awe. “What I want?”

“Do you want me to go away? Do you want me to slip back into the night and let you go back to sleep? Or is there something else you want from me right now? Because, whatever it is, I’ll give it to you.”

To my utter shock, she doesn’t hesitate. “I want you to touch me, Rowan.”

That’s all I need to hear.

I reach for her through the open window, wrapping an arm around her waist and protecting her head with my other hand as I tug her out onto the roof.

She lets out a squeak of surprise as she tumbles into my arms, but I’m quick to rearrange us into a reasonably comfortable position.

I sit with my back against the siding and pull Alina into my lap.

She straddles my waist, hands braced on my shoulders, and stares down at me like she’s not sure if she’s still dreaming.

“Tell me what happened in your dream, beautiful,” I whisper.

Her breath stutters on an inhale. She places her hand over mine where it’s resting on the curve of her hip and guides it further down her thigh.

I let her take the lead, swallowing a growl when she moves my hand between her legs, and I feel how slick her skin is.

She is soaking wet for me, and I think I might be losing my mind.

Is this real? Is this a dream? Is the Mating bond finally gaining sentience and taking over my perception of reality?

Do I even care?

Despite the chilly night, Alina is hot between her thighs. Even hotter when I brush my fingertip against her clit.

Her reaction is instantaneous. She cries out, slumping against me and dropping her forehead onto my shoulder .

“P-please, Rowan. Please.” Her voice is shaking. I think I’m shaking, too.

I tilt my head to press soft kisses against her throat as I shift the angle of my wrist and plunge a finger inside her.

She lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a moan and a sob.

My other hand strokes up and down her spine, soothing her as she whimpers and whines through a rapid, immediate orgasm.

“Don’t stop,” she begs.

“I wasn’t going to,” I assure her.

I slip a second finger inside. She’s so tight that it turns my thoughts to little more than useless radio static. I need her. All of her. If I don’t have her, I think I might die.

But I can’t have her like that. Never again. It might heal the Mating bond, and even though that sounds like the best possible outcome right now, I know that it would fuck everything up.

She hates me, I remind myself. This is just the Luna–the wolf queen–inside her rearing its head, and I am happy to appease it.

I’ll give her anything she asks. There’s no point in denying it. She could refuse to come home with me to Greenbriar territory over and over, and I would still come crawling back for just a morsel of her attention.

Screw the prophecy that claims she will ruin me. I would let her.

Alina grinds her hips against my palm, fucking herself on my fingers with such unapologetic disregard for the fact that, just hours ago, she was snarling in my face down in the kitchen.

My erection is painful at this point, but all I care about right now is her pleasure. That’s what coaxed me awake, after all. My Mate needed release, and the bond urged me to help her.

When a second orgasm barrels through her, Alina melts into me and grows still, save for her panting breaths and the raucous hammering of her pulse. I remove my hand from between her thighs and rest it on her leg, still rubbing her back with my other hand.

Several minutes pass until she comes back to life again. With lazy, languid movements, she sits upright in my lap and stares down at me. Her lower lip is swollen where she’s bitten it too hard, and her brown eyes have turned an inky black in the star-speckled night .

“Do you want to come inside?” she asks, so quietly that I’m not sure I’ve heard her correctly.

Yes, howls the wolf within. Yes, you do. Go inside. Take her to bed. Claim her again. Heal the bond.

But, just like the first time, the prophecy bellows louder than my instincts.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I breathe.

Deep down, I know if she says yes, I’ll go with her. Right now, I’ll do whatever she wants.

But Alina blinks in confusion. Then blinks again, as if coming out of a daze. Her gaze slides down to where our hips rest against each other, then back up at my face. She tips her head back and frowns at the moon.

When she finally meets my gaze again, her scent has dulled, and I know it’s over.

“Maybe it’s not a good idea,” she murmurs.

I nod. “Maybe not.”

“But, you…” She trails off and, in explanation, brushes her fingertips against the zipper of my jeans.

My head drops back painfully against the siding at just that barest touch. I want her to touch me so badly that I know it’d take nothing at all for me to beg on my knees for it.

She pulls her hand away, noting my reaction, and whispers a breathy, “Sorry.”

“I’ll be fine,” I assure her. “I have a hand.”

Alina frowns. Her eyes flick between me and the open window.

“We could…”

She’s right. We could. It would be so easy to drag her into that room, rip off our clothes, and make her mine all over again.

But I’m an honorable man, and she’s a confused young woman.

“I can’t,” I tell her gently. “I can’t make love to you when you hate me, Alina.”

“I don’t—I don’t hate you.”

My stomach swoops. “So, you want to be with me? You want to find a way to be together that won’t trigger the prophecy? You’re willing to try to be a family? Because that’s what I want with you, Alina. And we both know it can’t happen. We both know there’s no way forward.”

“But, I…” She swallows hard. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It was—the dream was—I wanted it to be real.”

“I want it to be real, too.”

We’re at an impasse, then. Physically speaking, we want each other.

In every other way, we can’t have each other.

She shivers as another breeze sweeps over us.

Then, without another word, she shifts away from me. I help her off my lap, then guide her back through the window until she’s standing barefoot on her bedroom carpet again.

“Sleep well, Alina,” I whisper.

There is so much confusion and sadness in her gaze that it makes me want to kiss away those troubled emotions. Instead, for fear of triggering another frantic, reckless moment between us, I keep my hands to myself.

“Goodnight, Rowan.”

Slowly, Alina closes the window.

I stay up there on the roof until she falls back asleep.