CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
VICTORIA
Iset down my pen and stared at the notation I’d just made for the third time.
The words blurred together. My mind kept circling back to last night instead of staying focused on compound interactions and magical residue patterns.
Feral hadn’t come to bed until I was asleep.
I’d lain in the dark, listening for his footsteps or any sound from the sitting room that suggested he’d join me. The absence had registered acutely. That empty space beside me where he’d been the night before. I’d thought… Well, I wasn’t sure what I’d thought he’d do after what we’d done together, though it wasn’t this.
Fear had crept in during those long minutes. I worried he’d regretted what happened. He could be pulling back behind his alpha walls, the ones that kept everyone at a careful distance.
Except the evidence didn’t support that conclusion.
Fresh flowers sat in the urn this morning, in water this time. He’d brought me breakfast and tea just the way I like it. He’d stayed close all day without demanding anything. Sat in hisfather’s chair beside me and offered help when he thought I had need.
Those weren’t the actions of a male with regrets.
So what did he want?
The question sat in my chest, poking painfully at my ribs. I’d ask him directly when the right moment came. No more waiting for things to resolve themselves through proximity and careful avoidance.
My pen lifted, waiting for dictation I wasn’t giving.
I couldn’t stop thinking about his hands. His mouth. The way he’d looked at me after, like he’d discovered something he hadn’t expected to find.
The witch who counts each breath and beat,Acorn said from the windowsill,who measures what her eyes can’t see, forgets to look at what stands plain before her feet.
I huffed at him. “Mind your own business.”
He stretched, arching his back in a long curve, tail high and bushy, completely unbothered by my tone. His tail flicked once before he settled back in his patch of sun.
I closed my notebook and stood. The office had gone dim, late afternoon light filtering through the windows at a slant that suggested evening wasn’t far off.
Walking into the sitting room, I spotted Feral on the balcony, sitting on the bench, facing the forest. His shoulders had that particular set to them that meant he was working through something in his head.
I strode in that direction.
He glanced back, and for one moment his face showed pure want, before he controlled it and his expression smoothed into something more careful.
My breath escaped my lungs in a whoosh.
As I joined him on the balcony, he rose and turned to face me, towering over me.
“Join me for dinner with the pack,” he said. It was nearly an order, though not quite. The words came out like he’d been working up to them. “Tonight’s special. Everyone’s eating together.”
Before I could answer, he took my hand. And then he was moving, taking me back through the suite.
I let myself be led, trying to memorize the feeling of his hand holding mine, the calluses at the base of his fingers, and the way his grip stayed firm without being too tight.
Behind us, Acorn scurried to catch up.The wolf who leads without a word, knows well the path to what he’s earned, the squirrel’s voice sang in my head.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
It means you’re both ridiculous, and I’m enjoying the show.
Feral stopped at the top of the stairs.
