Page 13

For the fifth time that hour, I read Samson's text and wondered if I was making a mistake.

'We'll be outside. Dress accordingly.’

Blunt. Bossy. Annoying. And worst of all, an Alpha. Why in the hell was I going on a date with Samson again?

Oh yeah. Because I was stuck here, and he was my husband, and apparently, we needed to 'get to know each other.'

I'd told him no this morning after failing to do so the night before. But then he'd gone and mentioned Kit. Said it was good for our son to see us getting along, and that he expected me to show up tonight.

As much as I hated to admit it, I knew he was right. Kit was so happy now that we were living under one roof that I couldn't bear to make him sad again by refusing to cooperate. So, here I was. Sitting in my room, staring at my closet, and trying to figure out what the hell you wore when your husband took you out on a date. An outdoor date.

Shaking my head, I dressed, hoping like hell I had the right impression. Leggings, hiking boots, and a fitted long-sleeved shirt wouldn't be fitting for a candlelight dinner, but this was Samson we were talking about. I'd be lucky if he used utensils during dinner. I wasn't about to get caught in the woods unprepared, and I had a distinct feeling that Samson had something adventurous in mind for us.

By the time I'd finished lacing my boots, I heard Samson's Jeep outside. I stood, smoothing my shirt, then gave myself a little nod in the mirror. "This is okay," I told myself. "Just two people who are trying to get along, going on a date together. You still hate him.”

I didn’t.

He sucked. He kidnapped me. He thought that he owned me. And I was only feeling so into him because my heat was almost on me. But it was too late to back out now. Dammit.

I hugged Kit goodbye, telling Gwen to make sure he didn't stay up too late, and headed out to meet my date, bitter and excited all at once.

Samson looked...incredible. He always did, but tonight, he looked specifically sculpted to break down all my walls. The muscles in his arms strained the sleeves of his simple black t-shirt, his hiking pants perfectly fitted around his thick thighs. His hands were in his pockets, his stance easy and relaxed.

"Ready?"

No, but I wasn't going to say that. I'd already told him I was coming, and any more argument was just another chance for him to get me worked up. I swallowed, forcing a small smile. "Yeah, I'm ready."

His eyes flicked over me, a look of approval in his eyes, before he turned and headed for the forest. "You'll want to leave your jacket in the car. It's a hot night."

I frowned. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

He didn't look back at me as he spoke, which just frustrated me even more, but I did as he asked, tossing my jacket back into the Jeep. We drove in silence, the road winding through dense trees, the scent of salt and pine filling the air. When he finally pulled off at the entrance of a narrow trail, I hesitated.

“You’re not taking me into the woods to murder me, are you?”

His lips quirked. “Not tonight."

I snorted but climbed out, following him up the trail. It wasn’t long—just a short incline that opened up to a rocky overlook. The sea stretched wide before us, the sky painted in warm streaks of orange and pink as the sun dipped toward the horizon.

I turned to Samson, who had removed his backpack. I was expecting him to pull out some kind of gear—maybe a thermos of coffee or some bottled water for us to share while we watched the sunset. I was already surprised by how genuinely sweet the entire thing was, but when he took everything he'd packed out of his bag, I almost gasped out loud.

No freaking way was Samson Jones actually this romantic.

He spread a thick blanket on the ground, setting out pillows and blankets to make a comfortable spot. A bottle of wine sat in an ice bucket, two glasses waiting beside it. He even had a basket of fresh fruit and cheese set aside.

I couldn't stop the smile from spreading across my face. "Samson, this is amazing."

He grunted. "I'm not doing this to impress you."

"You could have fooled me.”

He gave me a look that was just shy of a glare, but didn't say anything else. We settled onto the blanket, sipping our wine and watching as the sky turned deep purple.

The silence between us was surprisingly comfortable, the tension from before melting away the longer we sat together. After a while, Samson cleared his throat, his eyes on the sunset.

"So...why do you stay?"

I swallowed the bite of cheese I had in my mouth. "What?"

"Here," he clarified, gesturing around us. "You told me at least a dozen times a day in the beginning that you were going to run the second I turned my back."

I hesitated, unsure how much of the truth I wanted to reveal. "I...well, I know it'd be impossible to escape you, first off. I couldn't leave Kit, and this place is...surprisingly good for him. I don't know why I didn't consider it, but he's a boy, and pack life is always easier for boys. Don't get me wrong, I still want to go back to Portsmouth, but I'm trying to balance what is right for my son. You're his father. If he's going to be here, I should be too."

Samson considered that. "You are a good mother."

"I try to be." I glanced down at my wine, swirling honey-colored liquid in the glass. "But there's also...you."

His eyebrows lifted. "Me?"

"Yeah. You are surprisingly a good father for Kit. And you're not the same man that I thought you were."

Samson leaned closer, his hand covering mine where it rested on the blanket. I sucked in a breath. The touch was unexpected, and so was the way his eyes softened when they met mine. "You're not the same girl you were either."

I swallowed, fighting back the fluttering in my stomach. "You're not wrong."

Samson came closer, "You were such a skittish little thing back then. But now you're a firecracker, full of magic, a power in your own right."

I couldn't breathe, his hand still warm on mine, his scent all around me. I was burning alive inside, and I grasped for any subject that would give me a second to catch my breath before I jumped him. "Still a pathetic shifter, though."

"I don't know. If Kit can do it, so can you." He leaned back on his palms, stretching his legs out in front of him, and I almost cried from relief at the tiny bit of distance between us. “I’m glad I got to be there when Kit shifted. I wanted to make sure it was a good memory for him.”

I nodded, keeping my gaze on the horizon. “You did. He was so happy.”

Samson exhaled, “My father wasn’t like that. He was cruel about it. Tried to force it out of me too soon.” He shook his head. “Took me out into the woods when I was eight, told me I couldn’t come back until I figured it out.”

I turned to him, startled. “What?”

“Yeah. Left me out there all night. I was scared as hell, but I wasn’t about to let him see that.” He let out a humorless chuckle. “Took me two days to finally shift. By the time I made it back, I was half-starved and so exhausted I passed out the second I got inside.”

My stomach twisted. I’d never liked Samson’s father, but this? This was worse than I’d ever imagined. “That’s… that’s awful.”

He shrugged, like it didn’t matter anymore. Maybe it didn’t to him. But I felt a surge of protectiveness for the boy he used to be, just like I had for Kit.

I hesitated, then forced myself to speak. If he was going to open up, maybe I could give a little, too. “It wasn’t easy for me either.”

Samson turned his head toward me, waiting.

I took a slow breath, keeping my voice even. I never spoke about my shift, or lack thereof, and it felt unnatural to do so. “My shifting has always been tied to my magic. I could never separate them enough to make the change happen properly, and my magic never properly manifested until...until we knotted that first time...so every time I tried to shift before that it felt impossible. Unreachable. When I was fourteen, I pushed myself too hard during a harvest moon, trying to force it.” I hesitated, my fingers curling into the blanket. “I got three-quarters of the way through before I had to stop.”

Samson went still. “You got stuck?”

I nodded, the memory pressing against me like an old bruise. “It was… unbearable. I made it back to human, but I passed out from the pain. I don’t remember much after that.”

He stared at me, something unreadable in his expression. “That kind of pain—” He broke off, exhaling sharply. “And you still tried?”

I let out a dry laugh. “I was a stupid kid.”

“No.” His voice was firm. “You were strong.”

That wasn't what I expected him to say. No one ever called me strong. Always weak, weak, weak. The way he looked at me made my heart pound—like he saw me, really saw me, in a way no one else ever had.

I tore my gaze away, swallowing down the sudden rush of feeling. I wasn’t sure I could handle whatever was happening between us. But I couldn’t deny that it was happening. Fire skated across my nerves, my core pulsing with how badly I wanted him. God, to feel his knot again, to belong to Samson fully, this time as his mate...

“You should use your magic to shift,” Samson said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. Like I hadn’t spent my entire life struggling with exactly that. It shocked me out of my horny thoughts like a bucket of ice water over my head.

“You think I haven’t tried?” My voice came out sharp, but I didn’t care. Anger was welcome after the confusion of lust. More familiar. Easier to control.

Samson didn’t seem fazed. “Not like this.” He turned to me, his expression intent. “You’ve always fought against it, but what if you worked with it? Your wolf is there, Kiera. You just have to stop holding back.”

I pushed to my feet, my pulse hammering in my ears. “You think I don’t want that?” My voice rose, my emotions bubbling too close to the surface. “You think I haven’t spent years trying? Do you have any idea what it’s like to feel like you’re not enough for either half of yourself? That no matter how hard you try, you’ll never be good enough?”

He stood too, towering over me, his presence like a force of nature. “That’s not what I meant.”

“No?” I let out a sharp laugh, shaking my head. “Then what did you mean? That you need your mate to be powerful so I can be useful to you? So I can be an asset instead of a burden? That you're embarrassed your Omega can't shift?"

His face darkened, and I could see the anger flare in his blue eyes. “That’s not what this is about.”

“Isn’t it?” I snapped. “You’re an Alpha, Samson. You only see strength. Power. I will never be the kind of mate you want.”

The truth of my words burned in my throat, and I hated how raw I felt. How exposed.

Samson paused, and I saw it—the moment the argument shifted, the moment he caught something in my scent, something I’d been desperately trying to hide.

Shit.

The heat was worse now. So much worse. I’d kept it at bay for years, suffering through it alone, forcing myself to endure it without relief. But now, standing here with him, his scent wrapping around me like a damn vice, it was unbearable.

I had to have him, or I was going to die. I couldn't let myself have him, because that might kill me, too.

His nostrils flared, his entire body going tense.

“Kiera,” he said slowly, his voice dropping into something low and dangerous.

I turned away from him, forcing myself to breathe through the crushing need clawing at my insides. This couldn’t be happening. I would not let this happen.

“I want to go back to my cottage,” I blurted out, my hands shaking with the effort it took to keep my distance. “Away from the pack. Away from you.” It was only a half-truth, but I was fumbling around for any subject that would piss him off enough that he would forget whatever trace of my heat he could smell on the wind.

Samson’s brows furrowed, his confusion cutting through the sharp edges of his irritation. “What the hell are you talking about?”

I crossed my arms over my chest, needing some kind of barrier between us. “I never asked for any of this. I was fine on my own before you dragged me back here.”

“Fine? You call barely surviving, hiding all the different parts of yourself, fine?"

"Yes!" My scream was too loud, too raw, and I hated it. "Because at least I was free! I didn't have to justify myself to you or anyone else."

"You're not a prisoner, Kiera." Samson stalked a circle around me, nostrils flaring, "But I think you're hiding something from me, aren't you?"

A lie formed at my lips, but I found I couldn't do it. I couldn't outright deny my heat right to his face. Instead, I went with, "Fuck you."

His eyes narrowed. "Maybe I should fuck you, Kiera. Is that what you want? Are you hungry for my knot, Omega?"

His words broke me down, and I could already feel the slickness forming between my legs at the thought of his knot. "Samson, I—"

He stepped closer, so close I could smell the spice of his scent. He lifted a hand, brushing the backs of his knuckles against my cheek. I tried to jerk away, but his other hand wrapped around my waist, holding me in place.

"You're burning up for me, aren't you?" he asked, his voice low and rough. "That's what this is all about."

"Please—"

I might have let him fuck me right there on the picnic blanket. Hell, I might have begged for it. But I would never know, because the wind shifted, and instead of the cloying scent of my heat in the air, we both scented something much more ominous.

Fear skittered down my spine. We weren't alone.

Figures burst from the treeline, dark and swift. I barely had time to react before Samson was in front of me. His body tensed like a shield, a deep growl rumbling from his chest.

“Stay behind me,” he ordered, his voice deadly calm.

But the fight had already begun.