Page 99 of Wild Games

"That was... different."

"Three times, Jax. The whole pack probably heard."

Heat crawls up my neck. Through the bond, I feel her amusement and something else. Anticipation.

"Just wait until we have our own place," I murmur. "No audience."

"Promises, promises." But her hand finds mine across the console, and the heat in our bond intensifies.

"How much longer?" she asks after a while.

I check the mile markers. "Maybe an hour."

"Good." She shifts in her seat, and I catch her scent changing, warming. "I'm ready to see our new home."

Home. Not just a new pack or territory, but a real home. With her.

The road curves through dense forest, climbing into hills. Riverside territory is beautiful, even shrouded in darkness, all tall trees and clean water.

Perfect for running. Perfect for starting over.

"There." Camille points ahead.

Lights flicker through the trees. The Riverside pack compound waits for their new leadership. Waits for wolves brave enough to help them heal.

I squeeze Camille's hand as we take the final turn. Whatever comes next, we’ll face it together.

Mates. Partners. Pack.

The gates come into view, and with them, our future.

Time to see what we can build.

44

THREE MONTHS LATER

CAMILLE

The walk from the car to our cabin takes longer than expected. Mrs. Hendricks waves from her garden, and I pause to admire her late-blooming roses.

"Beautiful," I tell her, hefting my bag higher on my shoulder.

"Your Jax helped me stake them properly last week," she says, beaming. "Such a good boy."

I hide my smile at anyone calling my mate a 'good boy,' and continue up the path. A basket sits by our door, covered with a checkered cloth. Inside, there are three jars of blackberry jam with a note: 'From the Wheelers—thanks for the help with the pups.'

The cabin smells like home when I step inside. Pine wood, coffee, and underneath it all, the mingling of our scents that marks this as ours. I set the jam on the counter, noticing the new shelves on the kitchen wall. Dark wood, perfectly level, and exactly what I'd mentioned wanting last week.

Paint cans and rags are tucked neatly in the corner by the window. Jax must have finished just before heading to the packhouse. Above the fireplace, a photo from last week's packgathering catches my eye—us laughing at something off-camera, his arm around my waist, looking like we belong.

Three days. It shouldn't feel like forever, but the bond makes every separation ache.

Protection detail for the new prince is prestigious work, and the kind of assignment that usually goes to senior enforcers. Zane giving it to me raised eyebrows. Raven, I heard, was particularly bitter about being passed over.

I consider reaching through the bond to let Jax know I'm home, but I resist.

He's working, probably in the middle of treating someone or meeting with Kain. He'll sense I'm back soon enough. He's due home in an hour anyway.