The thought made the wolf growl low in his throat.
Ours.We protect what is ours.Whether she wants it or not.
Turning, I ran back, following my own tracks through the snow.The shift back was easier, faster.Naked in the clearing, I stood, breathing hard, steam rising from my skin in the cold air.The rage had banked to something manageable.Something I could control.
I dressed quickly and walked the rest of the way to the manor, snow melting in my hair.
The house was too quiet when I arrived.
Her scent lingered in the hallways, telling me where she’d been.The library.The kitchen.Her room, briefly, before she’d left for the hotel.I could track her movements through the house like following a trail of breadcrumbs.Here she’d paused by the window.Here she’d run her hand along the banister.Here she’d stood in the doorway of my study, looking at something.
Looking at me, maybe.While I slept.
But she wasn’t here now.
I ended up in my study, a glass of whiskey in hand, staring at the collar still sitting on my desk.It sat there like an accusation, a symbol of everything between us that remained unfinished.The silver chain gleamed softly in the firelight, the diamonds catching the dancing flames.
Alice appeared in the doorway.“She left quite early this morning.Before breakfast.”
“I know.”
“She seemed determined.”
Determined.Running from me, more likely.Running from the kiss I’d given her and the mess I’d made of the aftermath.
I drained the whiskey and poured another.Outside the window, snow continued to fall, blanketing the world in white.Somewhere in town, she was handling the aftermath of a crisis.Proving she didn’t need me.
Both facts gnawed at me.She was supposed to need me.That was the point.She was supposed to be desperate, dependent, broken down until she had no choice but to submit.Instead she was out there solving problems and earning the respect of her staff while I sat here like some lovesick fool, tracking her scent through the hallways.
Not lovesick, the wolf corrected.Possessive.There’s a difference.
Was there?
She’s strong, the wolf insisted.That makes her more worthy, not less.Stop running.
I wasn’t running.I was being careful.Strategic.The mate bond was a trap, a biological imperative that would make me as stupid and dangerous as my father had been.If I claimed her, if I let the wolf have what it wanted, I would destroy her the way my father had destroyed my mother.
You’re not him.
But I could be.I felt it sometimes, the rage that lived beneath my careful control.The violence that wanted out.During the consummation, when I finally had her beneath me, would I be able to stop?Would the wolf let me?
Or would I become the monster I’d been born from?
I heard her car on the driveway before I heard her footsteps.The engine cutting off, then silence.A door closing.Her heartbeat, rapid from exertion or anxiety, growing closer with each step.
The wolf surged toward her like a compass finding north.
Mate.Home.Ours.
I stayed where I was.Forced myself to remain still as her scent grew stronger, but layered now with other things.Exhaustion.Stress-sweat.Cold from the winter air.And something new.
Pride.
She appeared in the doorway of my study, snow melting in her dark hair, her cheeks flushed from the cold.There were shadows under her eyes, evidence of a day spent in crisis.But she stood straight, her chin lifted, meeting my gaze with something that hadn’t been there before.
Confidence.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.The kiss hung between us, unaddressed.The promise I’d broken.The collar on my desk.Everything we hadn’t said.
