“He’ll be back,” Irene said quietly.
“I know.”
“But you worry.”
“It’s a full moon,” she said, trying for a lightness she didn’t feel. “He said his control is frayed. What if he… finds someone else? “
“The full moon doesn’t create something that isn’t already there,” Irene said calmly. “It simply amplifies it. No other female would satisfy him.”
Some of the tension in her shoulders relaxed.
“How long will they run?”
“It varies. Some of them simply want a brief run to satisfy their wolf.” Irene shot her a quick glance. “Those who are… fighting themselves may run for many hours.”
“Like Adrian, you mean?”
“Yes. I’m not sure he’ll trust himself to return before daybreak.”
“Then I suppose I should go to bed.”
“You mean take your laptop to your room and pretend to work?” Irene said dryly and she laughed.
“I guess I’m kind of predictable.”
“Indeed. But come along. I’ll escort you to your bedroom.”
“That really isn’t necessary,” she argued but Irene ignored her. They returned to the main house and collected her laptop, and then the older woman accompanied her all the way to her bedroom door, even going so far as to sniff the air before allowing her to enter.
“Did you really expect someone to be hiding in my room?”
Irene gave a half-shrug. “Not if they value their life. But I’ve learned never to underestimate the stupidity of a male wolf on the night of a full moon.”
She laughed, then gave the older woman a quick, impulsive hug, startling them both.
“Thank you.”
Irene patted her back a little awkwardly. “You’re welcome, dear. Now get some sleep. You look exhausted.”
She was. As soon as she was alone, the adrenaline drained away, leaving her hollowed out. All the emotion of the last few days—the professional challenges, the political maneuvering, the frustrating, terrifying, wonderful kisses—had taken its toll.
Her room was quiet. Too quiet after the energy of the party. Outside, the distant howls continued, a wild, lonely sound that seemed to call to something deep within her. She closed her balcony doors and drew the curtains, blocking out the moonlight and the reminder of what Adrian was doing out there in the forest.
She changed into a t-shirt—another one from her vast collection of band shirts, this one a faded tour shirt for The Cure—andcrawled into bed. Her body was exhausted, but her mind refused to shut down.
She kept replaying the scene in the great room—Adrian’s possessive anger, Jared’s easy charm, the raw, primitive energy of the pack. She thought about what Adrian had said about claiming, about not being able to give her what she deserved when he was fighting for control.
Her body was achy, restless, and she finally climbed back out of bed and opened the curtains. The brilliant moonlight called to her and she quietly opened the balcony doors and stepped outside. The forest was much quieter now, only an occasional howl still echoing across the mountains, and the silence felt heavy and portent. And then she saw them, a pair of familiar golden eyes glowing from the shadows under the trees.
“Adrian?” she whispered, barely audible in the night, but she knew he heard her. The wolf stepped out into the moonlight, the darkness of its pelt making it almost invisible, except for the gold flecks in its fur that shone like a treasure trove of stars.
It was him. She knew it with a certainty that bypassed all logic.
The wolf padded silently across the lawn, its movements fluid and powerful. It stopped beneath her balcony, looking up at her with those golden eyes.
She sank down next to the railing, her knees suddenly weak. She was wearing nothing but her t-shirt and a pair of panties, the cool night air raising goosebumps on her exposed skin. She should have been scared, a human female alone at night with a predator. But looking into those intelligent golden eyes, she felt nothing but a bone-deep sense of safety.
Adrian’s wolf was breathtaking. Up close, she could see the muscles rippling beneath his dark fur, the raw power coiled in his frame. He was enormous, perhaps even taller than her, and every line of his body spoke of wildness, of freedom, of a nature that could never truly be tamed.
