Page 10 of Wild Games
The cool evening air kisses my heated skin, and I tilt my head back, eyes closed. Exhausted.
That’s when I feel it. Him.
The air changes, becoming charged with his intensity.
My wolf stirs, caught between anger at his reappearance after abandoning me last night, and desperately hoping that this time, he won’t run. I don’t open my eyes but don’t acknowledge him yet. Letting him watch.
“What do you want?” The words come out sharper than I intended. “Or do you just like to watch?”
Silence answers me, but I can hear his breathing now, closer than last night, harsh and uneven, and edged with a growl. The sound arrows straight to my core, and my thighs clench involuntarily.
I open my eyes, turning toward the tree-line. “Going to run away again?”
Golden eyes gleam from the shadows. He’s shifted, his wolf firmly in control. The sight should frighten me. Instead, liquid heat pools between my legs.
“Either come and talk to me, or leave,” I continue, anger giving my voice an edge. “You’re ruining my buzz.”
A snarl rips from the darkness, full of frustration and warning. But he moves closer, drawn in despite himself. I can see him better now; his thick, dark coat, and massive, powerful frame. His wolf’s chest heaves with each breath, muscles rigid with strain.
His wolf’s nostrils flare, and a shudder runs through his entire frame. The hunger in his expression as he catches my scent, tasting it on the breeze, makes my breath catch.
He stops at the edge of the porch, gaze locked onto something behind me. I’d draped a scarf over the chair earlier, unable to stand the fabric against my skin any longer. Jax’s wolf is now eyeing it with interest.
He moves with inhuman grace, padding closer on silent paws. This close, I can see the war in his eyes, the wolf inside battling with whatever remains of the man’s consciousness. His massive head swings toward the scarf again, a low whine escaping.
“That’s mine,” I say, though my voice lacks heat now. I raise an eyebrow, hoping to taunt him to the surface. “You could always shift and ask me for it.”
There’s something mesmerizing about watching him hesitate, the way his muscles bunch and release as he fights some internal battle.
He takes another tentative step forward, close enough now that I could touch him if I dared. The wolf’s attention fixes on the scarf with laser focus. Then, moving slowly as if in a trance, he leans forward and delicately takes the fabric between his teeth.
The sight shouldn’t affect me like this, my scarf dangling from a wolf’s mouth, but my heart melts away at the careful way he handles it, barely clamping down on the fabric, like its something precious. While the man in him might be holding back, fighting the bond, his wolf is a simpler beast, and he isn’t being shy about what he wants.
“I’ll eventually want that back,” I tell him, my tone soft, trying to keep my voice light despite my racing pulse.
The wolf’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I swear, I see recognition there, maybe even an apology that he’s taking it without permission. Then he backs away, my scarf still held gently in his jaws.
“Seriously?” I mutter to myself, considering whether to follow him or not, demanding some explanation about what the hell is going on. “That’s it?”
He pauses at the forest edge, looking back once, before he’s gone, melting back into the shadows, my pale scarf glowing like a ghost, as he trots off with his prize.
I sink back into the chair, equal parts frustrated and intrigued, and left with a gnawing certainty that there’s more to this strange wolf than meets the eye.
My wolf settles slightly, pleased that he reappeared and took something of ours. It’s a good sign, she insists.
Unless, of course, he just stole something to remember me by.
6
JAX
Iwake up, hard and aching. Her scent fills my nose, and my cock throbs as fragments of dreams scatter. In the dream, she’d been beneath me, back arched, as I drove into her, my name breaking from her lips. When I walked up her porch steps, into her cabin, she’d said nothing, just opened the door wide for me, took my hand, and led me to bed.
Like she was just waiting for me to come home.
In reality, the last clear image I have is of volunteering for border patrol at dusk, desperate to get away from the compound. Away from her.
I’d watched her all day yesterday from various vantage points, hating how she laughed with the competitors at the training ground, and how they circled her like eager pups. Ryan was the worst, leaning too close, touching her arm when he made her laugh. None of them recognized who she really is, or what she’s here for.