Page 20 of Unbearable Attraction (Hollow Oak Mates #4)

LUKA

B y the time Luka reached Leenah's cottage that evening, his bear was practically clawing at his ribs with agitation.

Three days of careful avoidance, of missed coffee dates and conversations that ended the moment he entered a room, had finally pushed his protective instincts past the breaking point.

But it wasn't just her withdrawal that had him prowling her garden path like a territorial predator. It was the scent.

Magic hung thick around her cottage, but not the gentle residual energy that usually followed her necromantic work.

This was sharper, more volatile, carrying undertones that made his shifter senses recoil with instinctive warnings.

Whatever she was planning required components that had no business being anywhere near someone with her limited experience in advanced magical workings.

He knocked on her front door with more force than strictly necessary, his patience finally exhausted.

"Leenah," he called when no immediate answer came. "We need to talk."

The door opened after a long moment, revealing her in an oversized sweater and jeans, her dark hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. She looked tired, stressed, and distinctly guilty about something.

"Now's not a good time," she said, stepping into the doorway to block his view of the interior. "I'm in the middle of research."

"What kind of research requires blessed salt and silver dust?" he asked bluntly, watching her expression shift from defensive to alarmed. "Because that's what I'm smelling, along with about six other magical components that could level half the town if they're not handled properly."

Her jaw tightened with stubborn determination. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't lie to me." The words came out gruff, his bear's agitation bleeding through his human composure. "I may not be a practitioner myself, but I've lived around magic long enough to recognize the scent of a dangerous working."

"It's not dangerous if you know what you're doing."

"And do you? Know what you're doing?" He stepped closer, close enough to see the faint shadows under her eyes that spoke of sleepless nights and obsessive research. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're planning something reckless and stupid without bothering to ask for help."

"I don't need help," she snapped, her blue eyes flashing with defensive anger. "I've been handling supernatural complications alone for years. I don't need you or anyone else telling me how to do my job."

"This isn't your job, it's your life." The distinction felt crucial, though he could see from her expression that she didn't appreciate the difference. "And if you're planning what I think you're planning, you're about to risk it for answers you might be able to get another way."

"There is no other way." Her tone held exhausted certainty that suggested she'd already explored every alternative. "The Council gave us one week, remember? I don't have time to waste on safer options."

"So you're just going to throw yourself into some experimental ritual without even telling me what you're attempting?" The accusation came out loaded with hurt he hadn't meant to reveal. "After everything we've been through together, you still don't trust me enough to share your plans?"

Something flickered in her expression, vulnerable and quickly hidden. "This isn't about trust."

"Then what is it about?"

"It's about not wanting to argue with someone who thinks he gets a vote in my decisions." Her chin lifted with defiant pride. "I've had enough people in my life try to control my choices, Luka. I won't accept it from you too."

The comparison to whatever family members had hurt her in the past hit him like a slap. "I'm not trying to control you. I'm trying to keep you safe."

"Same thing, different packaging." Her laugh held no humor. "At least you're honest about the motivation."

"How is caring about your wellbeing the same as trying to control you?"

"Because caring gives you the excuse to override my judgment whenever you decide I'm making the wrong choice.

" She stepped back into her cottage, but left the door open in clear invitation to continue the argument inside.

"Because it means my autonomy only matters when I'm doing things you approve of. "

Luka followed her into the living room, his temper fraying as her accusations struck closer to uncomfortable truths than he wanted to admit. "I've never tried to override your judgment."

"Haven't you?" She turned to face him, arms crossed over her chest in a defensive posture. "What do you call showing up here to confront me about my research? What do you call demanding to know my plans when I've made it clear I want to handle this alone?"

"I call it giving a damn about what happens to you,” he said loudly, frustration finally overwhelming his usual restraint. "I call it not wanting to watch the woman I care about destroy herself because she's too proud to accept help."

"The woman you care about?" Her voice dropped to dangerous quiet. "Is that what this is? You've decided you care about me, so now you get to have opinions about my life?"

The dismissive tone, the way she made his feelings sound like an inconvenience rather than something precious, finally snapped the last of his control.

"Yeah, I care about you. More than I should, probably more than you want me to.

But that doesn't give you the right to shut me out when you're planning something that could get you killed. "

"And it doesn't give you the right to demand I change my plans to make you feel better." She moved closer, anger radiating from her small frame like heat from a forge. "I didn't ask you to care about me, Luka. I didn't ask you to appoint yourself my protector."

"Maybe not, but here we are." He stepped closer too, close enough to see the pulse beating rapidly at the base of her throat. "You can push me away all you want, but it won't change the fact that what happens to you matters to me."

"Why?" The question came out as barely audible, loaded with vulnerability she was trying to hide behind anger. "Why does it matter? We barely know each other."

"Because you're brave and brilliant and stubborn as hell," he said roughly.

"Because you face down ancient spirits without flinching and make terrible coffee and argue with me like I actually have a brain in my head.

Because every time I look at you, I remember what it feels like to want something more than just surviving another day. "

The confession was more honest than either of them had been prepared for. Leenah's expression cycled through surprise, uncertainty, and something that might have been longing before settling back into defensive anger.

"That's not fair," she said quietly.

"What's not fair?"

"Saying things like that when you're trying to change my mind about something important." Her voice carried a tremor that suggested his words had affected her more than she wanted to admit. "That's emotional manipulation."

"No, that's honesty." He reached for her, his hands settling on her shoulders despite her obvious tension. "Something you might try sometime."

"I am being honest."

"Are you? Because it seems to me like you're planning this ritual alone because you're scared of what might happen if you let someone else matter enough to influence your decisions."

The accusation struck home with enough force that he saw her flinch. "That's not... I'm not scared."

"Then trust me," he said simply. "Trust me enough to tell me what you're planning and let me help."

"I can't." The words came out broken, carrying the weight of years of disappointment and abandonment. "Every time I've trusted someone with something important, they've either tried to control me or they've left when things got complicated."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"You say that now." Her blue eyes held the kind of pain that came from being let down too many times. "But what happens when you realize that caring about me means accepting choices you hate? What happens when protecting me conflicts with doing what's right?"

The questions revealed depths of hurt he'd only glimpsed before, wounds left by people who'd treated her gifts like burdens and her independence like defiance. Before he could find words that might reassure her, she was pulling away from his touch.

"I need you to leave," she said, her voice steady despite the tears threatening in her eyes. "I need to finish what I started."

"Leenah—"

"Please." The single word carried enough raw emotion to stop his protest. "Just... please go."

But as he reached for the door handle, something snapped inside him. The thought of walking away while she prepared to risk everything alone, the memory of all the people he'd failed to save because he hadn't fought hard enough to keep them safe, finally overwhelmed his respect for her autonomy.

He turned back, crossed the room in three quick strides, and pulled her into his arms.

The kiss was desperate and angry and full of everything they'd been dancing around for days. Her initial resistance melted into response that was just as fierce, just as needy, her hands fisting in his shirt while his arms tightened around her waist.

When they finally broke apart, the air between them crackled with new tension.

"That changes nothing," she said, but her voice lacked conviction.

"It changes everything," he replied roughly. "And you know it."

For a moment, he thought she might agree, might finally admit that whatever was building between them was worth more than her fierce independence. But then her expression shuttered, walls slamming back into place with almost audible finality.

"Get out," she said quietly. "And don't come back until you can respect my right to make my own choices."

Luka left because staying would only make things worse, but the taste of her kiss and the memory of her response followed him through the cold November night. As he walked back to his workshop, one realization cut through his anger and frustration with devastating clarity.

His fear of losing her was making him act exactly like the controlling family members who'd driven her away before. The very people whose mistakes he'd sworn not to repeat.

If he wanted to keep her, he was going to have to find a way to care about her without trying to cage her.

The question was whether he was strong enough to love someone and let them go at the same time.