Being near him was torture. Every time he looked at me with those gray eyes full of regret and longing, every time he spoke to our children with infinite patience and gentleness, every time he existed in my space smelling woodsy and perfect, I wanted to scream. Or kiss him. Or both.
Tonight’s torture session involved teaching the twins enhanced hearing control in Noah’s living room. I sat on the worn carpet, pretending to read while actually watching Knox work with our children. He knelt between them, voice soft and encouraging.
“Focus on my heartbeat,” he instructed gently, placing Rowan’s small hand on his chest. “Feel the rhythm first, then listen for it. Now push everything else away until that’s all you hear.”
“I hear it!” Thea exclaimed, bouncing slightly. “Boom-boom, boom-boom!”
“Good job, little wolf. Now Rowan, you try.”
My son’s face scrunched in concentration, and I had to bite back a smile at how much he looked like Knox when he was thinking hard. “It’s fast,” Rowan observed. “Why is your heart fast?”
Knox’s eyes flicked to me for just a second. “No reason. Hearts just do that sometimes.”
Liar. I could feel the tension radiating off him from across the room. The bond he’d forced on me meant I could sense his emotions whether I wanted to or not, and right now he was nervous. Good.
“Can we play sardines?” Thea bounced up, apparently done with hearing exercises. “Please please please?”
Noah grinned from his spot on the couch where he’d been working on his laptop. “I haven’t played that in years. I’m in.”
“What’s sardines?” I asked suspiciously. Any game that made Knox’s eyes light up couldn’t be good for my sanity.
“It’s the best game ever!” Thea explained with enthusiasm. “One person hides and everyone seeks and when you find them you hide with them until everyone’s squeezed in together!”
“Like sardines in a can!” Rowan added, clearly excited by the prospect.
“It’s like reverse hide and seek,” Knox explained, and damn him for using his gentle dad voice that made my ovaries want to explode. “One person hides, everyone else counts, then they search. When you find the hider, you squeeze in with them quietly. Last person to find everyone loses.”
“Please, Mama?” Both twins turned their puppy eyes on me, and I was doomed.
“Fine,” I sighed. “But no using enhanced senses. That’s cheating.”
“Deal!” They high-fived each other, then started arguing about who would hide first.
Noah produced a deck of cards from somewhere, and we each drew. I got the ace of spades, making me the first hider. Perfect. At least I’d get a few minutes away from Knox’s presence to regather my defenses.
“Count to one hundred,” I instructed, already scanning the house for hiding spots. “And no peeking!”
They covered their eyes dutifully, starting their count. I crept through the house, evaluating options. Behind the couch? Too obvious. Under the dining table? Too exposed. The basement door caught my eye, and I slipped down the stairs into the cooler darkness below.
The basement was filled with storage and old furniture. I spotted a closet tucked into the corner, partially hidden by storageshelves. Perfect. I slipped inside, pulling the door almost closed behind me. The space was cramped with just me in it, sporting equipment and boxes taking up most of the room. I wedged myself toward the back, settling in behind some hanging coats.
“Good luck finding me in here,” I whispered to myself, settling in for what I hoped would be a long wait.
Five minutes later, the closet door opened. Knox’s ability to find me was getting annoying.
He grinned at me in the darkness. “Found you.”
“Fantastic. Now go hide somewhere else.”
“That’s not how the game works.” He squeezed into the already cramped closet, forcing me to press harder against the back wall. The space that had been tight with just me became impossibly small with him in it too. “You find the hider, you hide with them. Those are the rules.”
“Did you cheat? Use your wolf senses?”
“I played fair. You just hide in predictable places.”
His body heat filled the small space immediately, making me hyperaware of every inch between us. Which wasn’t many. We were pressed together from shoulder to hip, his knee brushing mine, no way to maintain distance in the tiny closet.
We sat in tense silence, listening to footsteps above us. Noah, by the sound of it, still searching upstairs. Knox shifted to avoid hitting the door with his knee, pressing closer in the process.
