“It’s really not.”
Owen just looked at him.
“I... deprioritized talking to her. I’ve been busy.”
He’d rather take a punch than expand on that. Obviously, Owen picked up on it. “Oh, that’s what we’re calling it now?”
“Calling what? There’s nothing tocall. Between—” his jaw tightened, “—Alpha duties, ranger work, Letha making so many shifters crazy, and the pack being chaotic, I have been busy.”
“So you’re avoiding her. Got it.” Owen’s tone was casual, but the edge was there. “Which lends itself to the next question: why?”
The growl was out before he could even think of containing it, low, vicious, and laced with Alpha compulsion, meant to bend the strongest will and scare the bravest heart. And it slid over his Beta’s indifference like the tiniest ripple of water.
“Really?” Owen looked at him, closed his water bottle, and got to his feet. “Look, man, I don’t know what is happening with her, but whatever it is, you need to stick it way up your ass and leave it there. I’ll go talk to her if it’s such a problem for you, but if she’s involved, if she’s fighting on our side, she’ll be around.”
He knew. He fucking knew. He’d ghosted a necessary follow-up because he got rattled by something he didn’t understand, and now Owen was poking at the professional consequence. Ashamed, mad, and worried, he closed his eyes to center himself.
He was the Alpha. His pack depended on him. His forest depended on him. He couldn’t be stupid.
So he wouldn’t be.
He stood. “I’ll go talk to her tonight, before she closes her shop.”
“Are you sure? I don’t mind going.”
“No. No. I’ll go.”
And the sudden lightning bolt of excitement terrified him like few things ever had.
THE BELL OVER THE DOORjingled while she was rearranging samples on a side table. Her back was to the door, but her hand froze midair.
She knew.
She didn’t knowhowshe knew, only that as soon as the door swung open, her senses snapped into high alert, every nerve started humming. For him. Rex.
Okay, Zoe. Deep breath. You decided this reaction was ridiculous, remember? Especially after he didn’t show up all week. So not only ridiculous, but also an avalanche of unreturned, unrequested feelings of horniness.
Yeah, well, all that very reasonable, smart internal debate she had had—several times—since the hike day evaporated the second she saw him.
He was in his uniform, worn from a day in the forest. Dirt streaked the knees; one sleeve was rolled once, the other twice. The sun had kissed his face, softening the darkness of his eyes and making them seem lighter. His attention locked on her, zeroed in on her, and her stomach did a somersault she couldn’t stop.
She couldn’t even pretend not to notice the space he claimed, not just physically in the room, but the way his presence made the air bend around him. The easy confidence of his stance, the authority of someone used to being listened to, the faint scent of outside and dirt clinging to him—it all wrapped around her and twisted her tight and warm and completely out of control.
“Hey,” he said easily, a little growled.
The sound brushed on her skin and called a shiver.
“Oh, hello.” She turned back to the table, pretending to finish whatever she was doing, her hands suddenly clumsy and nervous.
He walked closer. It didn’t matter that she didn’t turn immediately; she knew where he was. Shefelthim. She tried to focus on anything else: the lavender bundles, the jars of pressed leaves, the tiny golden flecks of pollen in the sunbeams. It didn’t work. Her body leaned toward him before she even realized it, every part of her pulled to him and impossible to ignore.
She resisted the urge to just drop everything and go to him. “I’ll be with you in just one second,” she said, hoping it sounded light and professional.
By some miracle, she didn’t knock anything over. Every jar stayed upright, every sample intact. But now... she had to turn and face him. Adult. Professional. Right?
Right.
She did. Plastered a smile on her face, clasped her hands at her waist. “What can I do for you?”
