Page 18

18

KAT

I should have known he would follow me out here.

“You realize I wanted to be alone, right?” I call out as the Wolf King flops onto the grass beside me.

It’s early and I’m back sitting beside the creek to watch the sunrise because I’ve seen precious few of those in the city.

I was either working late at Donnie’s , the student bar, and slept in the next morning, couldn’t sleep because of my dorm mate’s loud sex with her boyfriend when he stayed over, or if I was out early, a building blocked my view.

But this …

Sitting beside a beautiful, tranquil creek, with the scent of pine leaves and wildflowers filling my nose, is perfect. Or would have been, if he hadn’t turned up.

I glare at him so he knows I don’t want him here.

“Howl,” he says, blind to my glare.

That’s it. That’s what he came out here to tell me?

Was it stupid to think he might have come out here to actually apologize?

I eye him like he’s crazy. “No. I’m not going to howl.”

“It’s fun.”

He’s flat on his back, head pillowing his arms, staring up at the sky.

I’m trying very hard not to notice his low-slung pants and bare chest.

As if he knows how hard I’m trying not to look, he angles his head toward me. “You’re being uptight.”

And just like that, it is very easy not to notice his chest. The overwhelming urge to roll him right into the creek takes prime real estate in my head.

I scowl at him. “You have a real skill, you know that, right?”

“At?”

I uncross my legs and get up so I won’t give in to the urge to drown him.

“Stay.” He grips my wrist and gently tugs me back down. “I didn’t mean it as an insult.”

I stare at him. “Do you not know what uptight means?”

And to my surprise, he flashes me a boyish grin. “I didn’t mean to offend. I just meant let go for a bit, you know? It feels good.”

Why is the guy who spent the better part of a week growling and snarling at me now sounding like a mellow, so chill, he might as well be horizontal, Californian surfer?

“To howl?” I don’t believe him.

My wolf whimpers in my head, demanding to know why we don’t howl as much as she wants to. And she wants to.

He nods.

I glance at the wrist he’s still holding. “You can let me go now.”

“Ah, didn’t realize.” Reluctantly, he lets me go. “Try it.”

“No.” I sit back down, crossing my legs to get comfortable since I refuse to let him chase me away from one of my favorite places here.

“I’ll try that meditation thing you prefer to howling.”

Back in the cage, I lied and told him I’d been meditating so he wouldn’t see—or know—how scared I was that I would die in that cage. I have never meditated a day in my life, but I figure if anyone would drive me to it, it’ll be this guy.

“I don’t care what you try.”

A frown furrows his brow, suddenly serious. “You don’t let her out much, do you?”

“Let who out?” As if I don’t know what he means.

My wolf.

He’s right. I don’t. Living in a city, surrounded by thousands of students, it just wasn’t safe. Not for her and not for me. The best thing was always to keep my head down and do nothing to attract attention.

Government types would stick me in a cage or experiment on me to death if they knew what I could do. For regular people, werewolves are myth and legend, not something walking among them.

“I’ll close my eyes if you’re shy,” he offers.

“So I can howl?” I raise my eyebrow. “You’re joking.”

His expression is still serious. “It probably doesn’t seem like a big deal, but it is. I don’t know what happened to you before, but we learn it in the schoolroom.”

“To howl ?” I don’t believe him.

“Balance. And yes, that includes howling.”

I look over at the schoolroom. It’s still early. Not even eight yet. But Gregor will be there later to teach the pups again, and he asked me during dinner if I wanted to join another lesson.

Apparently the kids paid more attention in the lesson and seemed eager to show off what they knew, and even Leo wasn’t as disruptive as he can be.

I could ask Gregor to confirm about the howling, because I’m not sure I believe Aren. But maybe that’s because of the cage. Trying to trust—or believe anything he tells me is hard when the first thing he did to me was hurt me.

“Kat?” his voice is soft.

I turn to Aren to find him watching me. The serious look on his face hasn’t left. “You don’t believe me.”

“You want me to trust you? I’m not sure I can do that.”

“So you’d rather get rid of me?”

He was listening to me in the kitchen with Marisa. He’d been quiet, but I seem to have some internal sense when it comes to him, and I’d known he’d been listening.

It’s why I’d stupidly skipped out on sleeping in the bunkhouse and gone up to his room. So I could see what he would do. Force me to stay?

He’d seemed hesitant. He’d given me space. And he had been doing everything possible to attract my attention with his bare chest, low-slung pants, and by squeezing his pecs.

And I had fought really hard to hide my laugh when I heard him arguing with his wolf, and his belief that a dead deer would impress me.

But I had not given in, even if my wolf had wanted to lick his neck.

“Marisa said I couldn’t break the bond,” I eventually say. “And she would have no reason to lie to me.”

He slowly nods. “Which is why you went to ask her.”

“I guess I could kill you,” I admit, curious about his response. “Then I’d be free of you forever.”

He remains flat on his back, arms tucked behind his head, doing nothing to defend himself. “You could.”

We stare at each for the next several moments. My wolf wants to sniff his neck. His eyes are thoughtful and focused.

“But you won’t,” he says softly.

“I won’t.” I agree.

“Because you like me.”

Days ago, I don’t think there would have been the hint of a question at the end of a statement like that. But maybe he’s starting to realize that I will not bend to him as easily as he wants me to.

“Because your pack needs you, even if I don’t.”

A muscle in his cheek jumps.

My heart squeezes at the same time and I’m not sure if it’s because I know what I said just hurt him, or… something else.

He pulls a hand from behind his head and stretches it toward me.

I order myself not to move.

He flips his hand so the palm is facing up and says, “Friends.”

I lift my eyebrow. “You want to be friends ?”

“I want you to trust me, and to like me as well. Maybe we could learn to be friends first.”

“You don’t know anything about me and I don’t know anything about you.”

“So I’ll tell you,” he says simply. “Anything you want to know, I’ll tell you. My favorite color is blue and my favorite food is steak.”

“Knowing those things doesn’t mean I know you.”

“They are pieces of me. Small and maybe insignificant, but they are me. You’ve seen the worst parts of me.” His expression is searching. “I need you to know there are other parts too. Not just the stupid part that refuses to see what’s right in front of him, you know?”

“Did you just call yourself ignorant?” I raise my eyebrow.

“I did.” He stretches his hand a little closer to me, and ignoring the warning blaring in my head, I give it a quick squeeze.

“Mint green and fried chicken.” His hand feels nice. Soft, slightly calloused and warm. Strong.

One corner of his mouth lifts. “Why don’t you like normal green?”

“Because I like the mintier version better.”

My wolf growls at me and I breathe out a frustrated sigh, “My wolf is desperate for you to know she will never turn down a bunny rabbit and she hates that I like sushi.”

His one-corner smile kicks into a grin. “My wolf likes deer. The bloodier the better.”

“This doesn’t mean we’re friends,” I warn him.

“ Yet ,” he says with intensity. “But we will be.”

I pull my hand from his or I will hold it forever. “I should go back inside.”

“Even Finan howls occasionally,” he says before I can make my escape.

I recall the serious beta, and I shake my head. “No, he doesn’t.”

“ Finan !”

I flinch away from Aren’s yell, which threatens to puncture my eardrums.

Finan sticks his head out of a bunkhouse window as I’m glaring at Aren, light brown hair stuck up every which way. “You realize it’s six a.m. I was sleeping.”

Aren points at me. “Tell her you howl.”

I bite the inside of my cheek as Finan stares at him as if he can’t believe he has Aren for a boss. Then he turns to me and sighs. He doesn’t just look like he rolled out of bed. He looks like he fell out of it. Poor Finan.

“I howl,” he admits, and pulls his head back inside and closes the window.

I shake my head at Aren. “I can’t believe you yelled at him just to confirm that.”

“He doesn’t mind.”

“You’re high maintenance.”

His chest puffs up in outrage, like a pissed off cat.

I dip my head, biting my lip so he won’t see my smile.

“I am not high…” His voice trails off, his tone changing as his fingers grip my chin and lift. “Are you smiling ? With me ?”

He sounds… surprised.

And pleased.

“ At you,” I correct him as I tug on his wrist. “You can let go of my face now.”

His grip tightens as he looks at my mouth. “Maybe I don’t want to let you go. Maybe I like touching you and don’t want to stop.”

“I haven’t given you permission to touch.”

His eyes are still on my mouth and I swear he’s leaning toward me. “You’re my mate. I don’t need permission.”

I stick my finger in his ribs right before his lips touch mine. He yelps, and I shove. Hard .

He rolls into the creek with an epic crash.

It is intensely satisfying.

As he shoves himself up, he’s growling as water sluices down washboard abs that so nearly tempted me to let him kiss me. “You pushed me into the creek.”

“An apology, Aren. When I hear one, and it had better be a damn good one after the way you treated me, I might let you kiss me.”

I walk away, back to the house. More and more windows are opening as people stick their heads out and cover their mouths when they see Aren standing in the creek.

“I made you smile, Kitty cat!” He yells after me. “Admit it. You like me. Not because I’m your mate. Because you like me .”

“There are a lot of things I like which aren’t good for me,” I yell, not turning around. “Greasy food is one of them. You are not.”

* * *

Gregor is sitting in the schoolroom. Alone, because the kids haven’t arrived yet and I’m early.

“I was thinking about fated mates this morning,” I say, squeezing myself into one of the tiny kid-size seats. If I put on so much as five pounds, I’d be in serious danger of wedging myself in here for good.

“I heard you were doing a lot more than that this morning.” His voice is dry. Gray eyes, however, are sparkling with amusement.

“He tried to kiss me. He’s lucky I didn’t hold his head down after I pushed him in.” I sniff.

He laughs. “You are having fun.”

“No, I’m not,” I deny.

But I am.

It is not in my nature to have fun. Survive? Sure. Occasionally smile when the moment calls for it? Yeah, why not? But actively play ?

That has never been me, and that side of me is as much of a surprise to me as it would have been to my old foster dad, Robert, who was the only person I smiled at with any regularity.

“Fun is important,” Gregor says, watching me closely. “So is play. It’s how our pups learn best.”

“Through play?”

He nods. “A pup will always learn faster and do best when playing with others. It’s as true with us as it is with most other animals. When more of the pups have their first shift, we take them out for sniff play and explore.”

I can’t help but smile at the mental image of cute wolf pups playing and sniffing everything they encounter, like curious kittens. “Really?”

He nods. “It’s a fun experience for them and the rest of the pack. We corral them as best we can. They let their noses lead the way and don’t always remember to use their eyes.” He smiles slightly. “There has been more than one occasion when someone has tumbled into the creek trying to sniff something too close to it. Then we come back to the house and sleep in a big pile. Helps the pups bond with us as wolves.”

“That sounds like fun.” So cozy, something what my wolf would absolutely love. Her quiet whine adds to my guilt that I’ve always been a solitary person, but she’s always craved connection with other wolves. And a pack.

A pack of one isn’t enough for a wolf.

It wasn’t enough for her, and, deep down, it wasn’t enough for me either.

I desperately wish I had my memories back. Did I do that when I was a pup with my real family in Nebraska?

I want to remember.

He cocks his head as he studies me. “And will you be around for it?”

I hesitate to respond because I don’t know. My wolf wants it, and I’m not a prisoner here. Everyone is being nice to me. They smile when they see me, ask me to join in their conversations, and treat me as if I’m welcome.

It’s like they want me to feel at home, but this isn’t my home. I have one of those waiting for me back in the city, and then there’s my family’s pack in Nebraska.

“If Aren hadn't treated you so badly and you had found us on your own, would you want to stay?” he asks.

Yes .

It’s beautiful here, and for the first time ever, my wolf feels settled and happy.

“But that did happen.”

He nods. “Then you have a decision you need to make.”

I blink at him, surprised. “You’re not going to try to convince me to forgive him?”

“I’m not in a relationship with him. You are. Only you can decide what to forgive and what not to forgive. I’m an ear if you want it.”

“But you’re always so busy,” I say.

His smile is cheeky. “I empty drawers and start counting bandages or jars when someone comes my way. Then, I have the excuse of being busy to send them on their way if I want to avoid a conversation. People soon get the message. The hard seat with no cushion is also effective at chasing people away. Aren, in particular, hates that chair.”

I can’t help but laugh. There are precious few people I’ve genuinely liked right off the bat, but Gregor is definitely one of them.