I rap three times on the door, waiting with one arm bent behind me. I’d given this much thought and decided that, as much as Yvonne is clinging to walls she’d built—walls that I was only able to break through years ago before she fled the pack—I have to do something to chip away at them so that she lets me in again.
Curiosity may have killed the cat, but I am an alpha werewolf who trained tirelessly to earn my position in this pack.
I refuse to spend another restless night like last, tossing and turning and wondering how Yvonne could replace me so quickly. Had our passionate night in the library opened her up to another world of opportunities, allowing her heart to burst open so she could find her mate elsewhere?
Why had I felt so strongly about her to the point that I would have claimed her as my mate if not for Elder Garret?
There’s a reason why fate led me to her, finding her in the midst of danger in the pack she’d chosen—the pack her former mate was from.
As much as I will not question fate, having a strong belief in whatever the Moon Goddess ordains for Her creation, I have so many questions.
Questions that Yvonne can only answer.
The metallic drag of the latch on the opposite side of the door signals the response to my knock, prompting me to straighten up and prepare for Yvonne’s coldness. It’s more bitter than the biting cold of the Alaskan air, and even though I’d braced myself for impact, it comes as a shock to my system when she opens the door and sighs despondently as if she’s disappointed to see me.
“Hi, Yvonne,” I chirp eagerly, hoping to lift her spirits with a charming smile.
But it falls on blind eyes when she steps closer and folds her arms.
“What do you want?” she asks coldly, but the flicker of disappointment sparking in my chest isn’t strong enough to dampen my own spirit.
“Ah, not even a ‘good morning, Dawson?’” I chuckle lightly, but my lighthearted taunt falls on deaf ears.
“Good morning, Dawson,” she says flatly. “What’s up?”
I clear my throat and take one step forward, narrowing the distance between us, but it only works to my detriment when I’m consumed by a sweet, floral scent that arrests my airways and hauls me into memories of the past.
“Yvonne…” I whisper, holding my breath to relish in the scent she exudes.
She lifts her eyes timidly, staring at me through the elegant tresses of thick, dark lashes. Her silver eyes slice throughmy chest when they meet mine, and my breath catches in my throat.
Beautiful…
The word echoes in my mind, hanging on the tip of my tongue and stopped from falling out when Yvonne clears her throat and takes a step back.
Internally, my inner wolf protests the loss of the close proximity, but then I’m reminded of Yvonne’s discomfort when she hesitantly tucks her hair behind her ear.
A pang in my chest ignites the sudden urge to reach out and help her tuck back the other side, but when my arm involuntarily stretches out, I produce the box I’d been hiding behind my back.
“Oh … er … I brought this for little Gio,” I say nervously, pushing the box forward until Yvonne takes it from my hand. “He told me he likes elephants. So, I got him something he might like.”
“Yeah, he—um—he has this stuffed elephant he can’t live without,” Yvonne hesitates as she keeps her eyes firmly on the box. For a moment, her softer voice betrays the cold front she keeps clinging to, but then she looks up with a frown, her eyes narrow, a suspicious glint passing through. “He has enough toys. Luna Aurora arranged—”
“Can you just accept the gift?!” I cut in abruptly, the hint of aggression in my voice catching Yvonne off guard when she gasps.
The soft, tender sound strikes me, and I realize that my rudeness was out of place. Yvonne lifts confused, weary eyes at me, and again I have the sudden urge to reach out and console her with a hand on her creamy cheek.
I fold my hands into tight fists, stifling the urge because I don’t want to frighten her. I know I shouldn’t feel this way, like I’m responsible for her emotions, but I do feel it. Deep down, my inner wolf chastises me for what I did to her in the past, and weighed down by the heaviness of that remorse, I spin on my heels and bolt away from the small cottage in my backyard, deciding to forego breakfast.
What I need is a run to clear my head.
Another Day Later
“No! It’s enough of this, Yvonne! Can’t you see what you’re doing to me?! I’m a madman!”
My hands curl into fists at my sides, my chest heaving uncontrollably. Huffing and puffing and wildly out of breath, I stare at my reflection in my bedroom mirror.
I’ve spent most of the evening yelling at the mirror as if it were Yvonne. I just can’t seem to get her out of my mind, and I’ve been practicing what I might tell her when I see her tonight.
