“Silas.”
“Go to sleep.”
“I just need to say one thing.”
He paused. “Say it.”
“I’m not going to keep running.” The words came out quieter than I’d intended but more certain than anything I’d said in weeks.
He said nothing for long enough that I thought that was the end of it. Then his arm tightened, pulling me more firmly against his chest.
“Good girl,” he said.
The fire cracked, and I drifted off.
* * *
I woke to harsh sunlight streaming through the window and groaned as I rolled over. Silas obviously didn’t believe in blackout curtains, and I was going to need to do something about that as soon as possible, but at least my body felt rested in a way it hadn’t in weeks.
After a quick stretch, I twisted my torso to get a look at my side where I’d been clawed. The gauze Silas had taped there last night was still in place, clean and secure. Peeling it back, I saw only a faint scar that looked like it was weeks old. It was barely eventender anymore, and the soreness in my joints and muscles from my fight with the skinwalker was completely gone.
I felt like I could run a marathon, climb a 14’er, and then ride my mate’s cock at the summit.
But it was only the latter of those on my mind right now.
I turned my head to glance at the spot beside me. I was alone in the bed.
I sat up, letting the blanket pool at my waist, and listened. No movement from the kitchen. No sound of water running or wood being split outside.
Climbing out of bed, I found clothes laid out on the chair by the window. A pair of Silas’ sweatpants with the drawstring pulled tight, a soft T-shirt, and some socks. I dressed and padded barefoot down the hall.
The main room was empty. The fire had burned down to coals. I checked the kitchen. The espresso machine sat dormant on the counter. A note was propped against it in handwriting that was blocky and utilitarian:Hunting. Back soon.
I picked up the note and read it twice, then set it down and crossed to the front door.
The porch was empty. Beyond it, the clearing stretched toward the tree line, and I could see where the grass had been flattened by paws. The trail led north, disappearing into the forest.
Why was he always out doing wolfy things? Would I be like that too, now that I could shift? He’d probably gone to make sure the skinwalker was really dead. That had to be it. He’d said he’d torn its head off, but maybe there was more to do. Maybe shifters had rituals for this kind of thing, some way of confirming forthemselves that an ancient enemy like this was no longer a threat.
I stood on the porch and felt the restlessness build in my chest like pressure.
My wolf wanted him.
Desperately so, with a pull that started low in my belly and radiated outward until my fingers itched and my feet tried to move on their own.
I could go back inside. I could make coffee and wait like a good girl for him to return.
Or…
I looked down at my borrowed clothes, then at the tree line where his trail disappeared.
Yeah, fuck it. It was she-wolf time.
But how did I get this party started, exactly? Did I just need to think wolfy thoughts? Howl at the moon and hope for the best?
The restlessness continued to build, until it turned into frustration. At Silas for leaving when I needed him to be here this morning. At myself for not knowing how to access my new features. I pressed my thighs together. I was just about to go back to bed and take care of my own needs when the shift came without warning.
One second I stood upright, contemplating the speed at which Amazon could deliver a vibrator to an isolated cabin, the next, I found myself on all fours.
