Wanderlust With Wolves (Greetings from Monster Town)

Chapter 5

Chapter Five

NOT LURKING (DEFINITELY NOT)

Ronan

Luna is at the crafting table, cutting ribbons and tying up bundles of dried herbs, fully engrossed in whatever decoration scheme she’s cooked up for the Sweetheart Wilds Festival. The floor is already littered with scraps of fabric and half-finished projects, and I have no doubt the lodge will be covered in rustic charm by the time she’s done.

I barely glance at her setup as I scan the room, looking for?—

“She isn’t here,” Luna says, not even pausing in her cutting.

I scoff, crossing my arms. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She does pause at that, leveling me with a look that sends an uncomfortable chill down my spine.

Luna has our mother’s eyes, and our mother had an unsettling way of seeing through people, like she could sniff out lies before they were even spoken.

I knew better than to say that out loud.

“You’re not subtle, dear brother,” Luna muses, going back to her work. “You could barely keep your tongue in your mouth at her presence.”

My fur bristles. I clench my jaw so tight my teeth ache. “I did no such thing.”

“Of course not,” she drawls. “You were the definition of cool and detached.” She rolls her eyes. “Anyway, she’s not here. She’s moving her van and settling in. And I highly doubt she’d appreciate overprotective wulvers sniffing around her property.”

I catch on one detail and ignore everything else. “She’s moving the van?”

Luna sighs. “She doesn’t need help, Ronan.”

That’s debatable.

“She drove cross-country on her own. She’s a capable woman, fully able to take care of herself.”

I frown. “She’s also wildly independent,” Luna continues, slicing another ribbon clean through. “Don’t get attached. She plans on leaving.”

The words land in my chest like a rock sinking into deep water.

Maya. Leaving.

No. That’s not going to happen.

She might think she’s just passing through, but she’s mine.

“She’s been surviving on sheer luck,” I mutter, unwilling to hear anything else. “You don’t know what kind of creeps are lurking around.”

Luna exhales, clearly done with me. “I’m serious, Ronan. Leave her alone.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say evenly, already heading for the door.

Just as I reach it, Luna calls out one more time?—

“Oh, and dear brother?”

I pause, ears twitching.

“The only creep lurking around her cabin is the one staring back at you in the mirror.”

I huff at that and let the door swing shut behind me.

I’m not lurking .

I’m ensuring the area is secure.

It’s my job to patrol. To protect the Wilding Way Resort & Spa and its guests. I’d do this for anyone .

It just so happens that my current patrol includes checking on Maya’s cabin.

And making sure no other wulvers—or sirens or forest-dwelling opportunists—are sniffing around where they shouldn’t be.

I approach quietly, padding along the worn forest path that winds along the ridge above her site. From here, I can see the glimmer of her silver van parked next to the cabin, settled in comfortably near the utility station.

Good.

I approve.

But then?—

A sound.

A moan.

It’s soft, barely audible, but my ears are highly sensitive, trained to pick up the faintest distress.

My body tenses.

Is she hurt?

I move closer, instinct coiling tight in my muscles, ready to react?—

And then I see through the wide, unobstructed window.

Maya.

In the bathtub.

Head tipped back, eyes closed, mouth slightly open as another pleasured moan escapes her lips.

Oh.

Oh, hell.

Heat slams through my chest, claws digging into my palms as I force myself not to make a sound.

She’s utterly relaxed, stretched out in steaming water, bare skin glistening, dark waves of hair spilling over the edge of the tub like silk.

And the scent?—

Even from here, I can smell her, warm and sweet, laced with something that makes my gut tighten with need.

I want to join her.

That’s insane.

A muscle in my jaw tics violently as I force myself to retreat—wrenching my gaze away and stepping back into the shadows of the trees.

I take a long, steadying breath, my claws digging into the bark of a nearby tree to ground myself.

This is not what I came here for.

I need distance.

I turn and take the path leading back to my own cabin—conveniently just up the ridge.

Halfway there, something small and soft rubs against my leg.

I glance down to find a black-and-white cat weaving around my feet, tail flicking like he owns the place.

I crouch, reaching down to scratch behind his ears. “Well, well. Who do we have here?”

The cat purrs loudly, arching into my touch.

I scoop him up, cradling him against my chest as I continue walking. “You don’t belong to the Wild, little one.”

The cat blinks up at me, unimpressed.

I smirk, rubbing under his chin as I carry him toward my cabin. “Guess that makes two of us.”