“Yes. This is a strategic arrangement. We agreed to clear boundaries.”
“We agreed to share a bed.” His smile widened a fraction. “Our agreement didn’t specify what condition I’d be in when I woke up.”
“That’s—” I searched for the right word. “Semantics.”
“It’s biology.”
My face was absolutely on fire now, heat sliding down my neck.
He sat up, the blankets pooling around his waist, and tilted his head in a way that was pure predator. “You’re welcome to solve the problem yourself if it bothers you that much.”
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Tried again. “I will do no such thing.”
“Such a shame.” He stretched, all casual strength and deliberate provocation. “Guess I’ll have to take care of it myself.”
“You—” I sputtered. “That’s inappropriate.”
“You’re the one who brought it up.”
“Because you’re sitting there like it’s perfectly normal to stiffen in that way in the morning.”
“Itisperfectly normal.” His voice dropped lower, warm with suggestion. “Especially when I wake up with a beautiful woman draped all over me.”
My brain short-circuited somewhere around “beautiful woman.”
He bares his teeth but not in threat,Acorn said from the sitting room.I think the wolf enjoys your fret.
I turned on my heel and stalked toward the bathing chamber with as much dignity as I could manage, which was considerable.
Right up until my foot caught on the fur rug and I tripped, nearly sprawling across the floor.
I caught myself on the doorframe, didn’t look back, and slammed the door behind me.
His low chuckle followed.
After filling the tub, I climbed in and let the hot water work some of the tension from my body.
The bathing chamber was one of the few truly private spaces in the suite, carved into the living wood with the same careful attention as the rest of the tree. Spelled heating kept the water at a perfect temperature, and someone had left a bar of floral soap on the edge of the tub that smelled like home.
I closed my eyes and allowed myself one moment of complete honesty.
Feral was a problem.
Not the shifting sickness, though that remained concerning. Not the political alliance or the pack dynamics or any of the logical, manageable challenges I’d prepared myself to handle.
Him.
The teasing. The way his arm had felt around me while we slept. The fact that he’d called me beautiful with that rough edge to his voice that made my chest pull tight.
I’d curled into him at some point during the night. That much was clear. But had he been asleep when I did it or had he let me?
The question sat in my mind, revealing possibilities I had no business considering.
I shoved it away and focused on washing, on the practical steps of preparing for the day. Research. Investigation. I wanted to visit the northern creek tributary and see if I could discover if environmental factors might be causing the shifting sickness.
My plan was manageable. It made sense. I could handle mystery illnesses and contaminated water sources. What I couldn’t handle was my husband’s morning erection and the way he’d looked at me when he called me wife.
I dried off and dressed in a practical blue gown with enough pockets for sample vials and my notebook. Not my laboratory clothes, but nicer. The kind of thing that said I was taking this seriously. Not that I was trying to look nice for anyone in particular.
