“Will you be okay today?” he asks, same as every morning. But his voice is rougher, deeper.
“I’ll be fine.”
I focus on washing dishes, needing the distraction. The water is too hot, but I barely feel it. Everything seems muted compared to the burning under my skin.
“Maya might stop by later.”
He sets his mug down with deliberate care. I hear him move closer, feeling the heat of him behind me, but he stops just out of reach.
“I should bring more clothes over. If that’s still...”
“Yes.” The word bursts out. “I mean, that would be practical.”
A smile tugs at his lips. “Practical. Right.”
The air crackles between us as he takes a half-step closer.
I grip the edge of the sink.
He takes another step.
My breathing quickens.
“I should go.”
“You should.”
Neither of us moves. His eyes drop to my neck, and heat flares through me so intensely, I sway on my feet.
“Billy...”
“I know.” He backs toward the door like I’m dangerous. Maybe I am? His hands clench and unclench at his sides. “I’ll see you tonight.”
“Be safe.”
He pauses at the door, looking back. The hunger in his eyes makes my knees weak. “Carla? This thing between us... we’ll figure it out. Together.”
After he leaves, I collapse against the counter. My skin feels too tight, like I might burst out of it. Every heartbeat sends the message through my body:unmated, incomplete. Find him, claim him.
I try to distract myself with normal tasks. Laundry. But his scent on the sheets nearly brings me to my knees. Cleaning. Butevery surface reminds me of him. Reading. But the words blur as my wolf paces, agitated about our unmarked mate being out there, away from us.
By noon, I can’t stand it anymore. My hands shake as I grab my keys.
I dress carefully. Jeans that hug my curves, a soft jade green sweater that Billy once said brings out my eyes. I catch myself dabbing perfume at my pulse points and freeze.
What am I doing?
Going to our mate, my wolf answers.
The drive to town feels endless. My hands grip the steering wheel to keep them from trembling. Not from fear. From need.
The brewery hits me with a wall of scent. Hops and malt and yeast. But underneath it all, I catch his, and my wolf surges forward.
I find Billy in the back, checking gauges on one of the fermentation tanks. He’s pushed up his sleeves, flexing his forearms, as he makes notes, concentrating hard. A bead of sweat trails down his neck.
I want to lick it off.
He looks up as I enter, and his entire body goes rigid. “Carla.”
