I settle against the trunk of a large tree, the bark rough through my shirt, and watch her to settle my bear’s craving. I linger there as the light fades, and she settles into the deep sofa with a book and a hot mug of tea in her hand.
An hour passes. Maybe two. My bear paces restlessly, urging me toward the cabin, toward our mate. I close my eyes, allowing myself to rest, just for a moment, knowing she’s still here, unharmed.
But I jolt awake when the porch light flicks on, and Emma steps outside.
Her scent carries to me on the breeze, and just like before, a wave of need threatens to overwhelm me.
I groan, closing my eyes to let my bear pine and bury the ache deep inside me.
She settles into one of the porch chairs and tips her head back, staring up at the stars.
“Come out, Bodhi.”
She knows I’m here.
She’s been waiting for me.
32
EMMA
The bond tells me he’s out there. An invisible thread is tugging me toward the treeline.
“Bodhi. I’m not going back inside until we talk.”
More silence. I count to thirty, listening to my pulse and feeling the bond thrum in time with it. The trees stand dark and still, their branches creaking in the night breeze. An owl calls somewhere in the distance.
Fine.
I cross the porch and descend the steps, the frozen grass crunching beneath my feet. The cold bites into my soles, but I keep walking in the direction my gut tells me to go.
“Emma.” His voice comes from my left, low and rough. “Go back inside. It’s cold.”
I turn toward him. He’s leaning against a tree trunk, arms crossed, dressed in dark clothes that make him nearly invisible. Moonlight illuminates half his face, carving shadows beneath his cheekbones, highlighting the exhaustion in every line.
“Come inside with me.” I demand.
“I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
He doesn’t answer my question. His jaw tightens, and his gaze slides away, fixing on the cabin, the trees, anything that isn’t me.
I close the distance between us before he can retreat, pressing a finger into the middle of his massive chest and backing him against the rough bark.
His eyes widen, his body going rigid, but he doesn’t push me away when I flatten my palms against his chest and feel the heat of him through his shirt, and the rapid pounding of his heart beneath my hands.
“Emma…”
He smells so good.
“No.” I press closer, eliminating the space between us until I’m flush against him.
His breath catches, and his hands come up to grip my shoulders, fingers digging in through the fabric of my hoodie.
“You don’t get to do this.”
Guilt flashes in his eyes. He knows what he’s doing to me.
