Chapter 5
Jack
Three days.
Seventy-two hours of purgatory.
That’s what this was. I was trapped in a five-hundred-square-foot cabin in the middle of a frozen wilderness with the one person on earth my biology was screaming at me to devour.
And she was annoying.
"You’re doing it wrong," Eloise said, not looking up from the book she was reading. She was curled up in the leather armchair by the fire, wrapped in one of my hoodies that was five sizes too big for her. It hung off one shoulder, exposing the smooth, pale curve of her neck.
I gritted my teeth, gripping the ax handle tighter. "I am chopping wood, Mouse. There is no 'wrong' way. The wood splits, or it doesn't."
"You’re using all arm," she critiqued, flipping a page. "It’s inefficient. You should be using your core and the momentum of the swing. It’s basic biomechanics. Kinetic chain."
I lowered the ax, staring at her through the window. I was outside, ankle-deep in snow, sweating through my thermal shirt despite the ten-degree weather. She was inside, warm, looking like a dissertation on temptation.
"If you know so much about swinging an ax," I called out, "feel free to come out here and demonstrate."
She looked up then, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "I would, but I’m busy."
"Doing what?"
"Reading about how to survive a wolf attack," she deadpanned, holding up the book. It was an old survival guide she’d found on the shelf.
I snorted, driving the ax down into the log with a violent crack. The wood split cleanly in two. "If a wolf wants you, Eloise, reading a book isn't going to help."
"It says here I should make myself look big and make loud noises," she said, raising her voice. "Does that work on you?"
"Only one way to find out," I muttered, stacking the wood.
The last three days had been a blur of domestic torture.
We had established a routine. I woke up at dawn, checked the perimeter for tracks (none so far, thank god), chopped wood, and tried to burn off the excess energy that was buzzing under my skin.
Eloise woke up an hour later, looking sleepy and soft, and made coffee that tasted like battery acid.
We ate together. We talked.
That was the worst part. The talking.
I expected her to be a brat. I expected the Dean’s daughter—the Ice Princess—to complain about the lack of indoor plumbing (well, the finicky plumbing), the lack of Wi-Fi, the cold.
But she didn't.
She was resilient. She was funny. She had a dry, biting wit that kept me on my toes. She asked questions about the Pack, about hockey, about me. And she listened. She didn't look at me like a monster anymore. She looked at me like I was a puzzle she was determined to solve.
And every time she laughed, my wolf paced a little faster. Mate. Mate. Happy. Keep.
I finished the woodpile and stomped the snow off my boots on the porch. I walked inside, the warmth of the cabin hitting me instantly. It smelled like woodsmoke and coffee... and her. That vanilla scent had permeated everything. The rugs, the furniture, the air. It was maddening.
"Coffee’s in the pot," she said, not looking up. "It’s probably sludge by now."
"I like sludge," I grunted, walking into the kitchen. I poured a mug, the black liquid steaming. I leaned against the counter, watching her.
She was chewing on the end of a pen, frowning at the book. Her hair was in a messy bun, strands escaping to frame her face. She wasn't wearing makeup. She looked... real.
"So," she said, closing the book. "According to this, you are an apex predator with a pack hierarchy based on dominance and aggression."
"Accurate," I said, taking a sip.
"But you’re also... domesticated?" She tilted her head. "You go to college. You play hockey. You pay taxes?"
"I don't pay taxes yet," I smirked. "But yes. We integrate. We have to. The world isn't wild anymore, Eloise. We adapt."
"And the... mating thing?" She asked, her voice dropping a little. "Is that instinct or choice?"
The air in the room shifted. It got heavier. Hotter.
I set the mug down. "Both."
"Explain."
"The instinct tells me who," I said, my voice low. "The choice is... whether I act on it."
She looked at me, her gaze dropping to my mouth, then snapping back up to my eyes. "And why haven't you acted on it?"
It was a challenge. A direct, bold challenge.
I pushed off the counter and walked toward her. Slowly. Predatory.
"Because you’re human," I said, stopping in front of her chair. "Because you’re fragile. And because if I start, I won't stop."
Her breath hitched. She didn't shrink back. She leaned forward, just an inch.
"Maybe I don't want you to stop," she whispered.
My control snapped.
Eloise
I didn't know why I said it.
Maybe it was the isolation. Maybe it was the fact that for three days, I had been watching Jack chop wood, watching the muscles in his back bunch and flex under his shirt, watching the sweat glisten on his neck.
Or maybe it was because, for the first time in my life, I felt safe enough to be reckless.
Jack stared down at me, his eyes darkening to that dangerous, muddy brown that preceded the gold. The air around him seemed to vibrate.
"You don't know what you’re asking for," he rasped.
"Then show me," I challenged, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. "Stop treating me like glass, Jack. I’m not going to break."
He let out a low growl—a sound of pure frustration. He reached down, gripping the arms of the chair, caging me in. His face was inches from mine. I could feel the heat radiating off him.
"You have no idea," he muttered. "You think this is a game? You think this is just... attraction? This is hunger, Eloise. It’s starvation."
He leaned in, his nose brushing against my neck. I gasped, my head falling back against the leather. He inhaled deeply, shuddering.
"You smell so good," he groaned. "It’s killing me."
"Jack," I breathed, my hands coming up to grip his biceps. They were rock hard. "Please."
He pulled back, looking at my face. He searched my eyes, looking for fear. He didn't find any. He found want.
"Stand up," he ordered.
I stood. My legs were shaky, but I stood.
We were toe-to-toe. He towered over me, a wall of muscle and intensity.
"Turn around," he said.
I hesitated. "Why?"
"Because if I look at your face right now, I’m going to lose it completely," he admitted, his voice rough. "Turn around. Brace your hands on the back of the chair."
My stomach flipped. A dark, heavy thrill uncoiled in my belly. This was it. The danger I had been craving.
I turned. I placed my hands on the cool leather of the chair back. I bent forward slightly, looking over my shoulder at him.
He was watching me. His eyes were glowing now. Bright, molten gold.
He stepped closer. His chest brushed my back. He reached around, his large hands settling on my hips. His thumbs dug in, possessive and firm.
"You want to know what it’s like?" he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. "To be with a wolf?"
"Yes," I whispered.
"It’s not gentle," he warned, his hands sliding up my waist, his fingers splaying over my ribs. "We mark what is ours. We bite. We bruise."
One hand moved up to my throat. His fingers wrapped loosely around my neck. Not choking, just holding. Claiming.
"I could snap you in half," he murmured, his thumb stroking my pulse point. "You’re so small. So soft."
"I’m stronger than I look," I said, my voice trembling.
"We’ll see."
He pressed his body against mine. I could feel him. Every inch of him. He was hard—rock hard—pressed against my lower back. The evidence of his desire was undeniable.
He buried his face in the crook of my neck. And then... he bit.
Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to sting. Hard enough to leave a mark.
I cried out, a sharp, shocked sound.
"Too much?" he asked against my skin, his voice guttural.
"No," I gasped. "More."
He groaned, his grip on my waist tightening painfully. He nipped at the sensitive cord of my neck, soothing the bite with his tongue, then biting again, lower this time.
His hand on my stomach slid lower. Down the front of my jeans.
"Jack," I whined, my hips bucking back against him instinctively.
"Patience," he growled. "Good girls wait."
The praise hit me again, melting my knees. I slumped forward, supporting my weight on the chair.
His hand didn't go inside my jeans. Not yet. He kept it flat against my lower belly, pressing down, grounding me.
"Tell me you want this," he demanded into my ear. "Tell me you want the monster."
"I want it," I sobbed. "I want you."
"Say my name."
"Jack. I want Jack."
He spun me around.
The movement was so fast I barely registered it. Suddenly I was facing him, and he was lifting me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist, clinging to him.
He carried me to the wall, slamming me against it. The impact knocked the breath out of me, but I didn't care. I was kissing him. Finally.
His mouth was demanding. Hot. Wet. He kissed me like he was drowning and I was oxygen. He tasted of coffee and desperation. His tongue swept into my mouth, claiming it, tangling with mine.
It wasn't a sweet first kiss. It was a collision.
I buried my hands in his hair, pulling him closer, needing to be closer. I ground my hips against him, the friction maddening.
Jack let out a roar into my mouth. He broke the kiss, gasping for air, his forehead resting against mine.
"Eloise," he panted. "Stop moving. Or I’m going to take you right here against this wall."
"Do it," I challenged, breathless.
He looked at me. His eyes were wild. He looked like he was warring with himself—the man vs. the beast.
"No," he said, his voice straining. "Not like this. Not the first time. You deserve a bed. You deserve... slow."
"I don't want slow," I argued, nipping at his jaw.
"Too bad," he growled. "Because I don't have condoms. And I am not breeding you in a cabin in the woods like an animal."
The word breeding sent a shockwave through me.
"Breeding?" I squeaked.
Jack froze. He looked at me, realizing what he’d said. The wolf had slipped.
"Biology," he said, his voice tight. "The instinct is to procreate. To knot. If I go inside you now, without protection... I won't pull out. I can't. My body won't let me."
He lowered me slowly to the ground, his hands lingering on my waist.
"I can't risk that," he said, stepping back. "You have a life. You have a future. I’m not going to ruin it with a pup."
I stood there, leaning against the wall, my legs shaking, my lips swollen, my neck throbbing where he’d marked me.
"You wouldn't ruin it," I whispered.
Jack looked at me with a sadness that broke my heart. "Yes, I would. You’re the Dean’s daughter. I’m a shifter from the wrong side of the tracks. A baby would destroy your world."
He turned and walked toward the door.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
"Outside," he said, grabbing his coat. "I need to cool down. Before I do something we can't take back."
He slammed the door behind him.
I slid down the wall until I hit the floor. I touched my neck. It was tender.
I was in trouble. Big trouble.
Because the terrifying part wasn't the biting. Or the growling. Or the talk of breeding.
The terrifying part was that when he said he wanted to give me a baby... I didn't hate the idea.
Jack
The snow was cold. The wind was brutal. It didn't help.
I ran. I shifted mid-stride, my clothes shredding (another hoodie ruined, dammit), and let the wolf take over.
I was a massive grey beast, paws thudding against the frozen earth, tearing through the underbrush. I ran until my lungs burned. I ran until the image of Eloise—flushed, panting, begging me to take her—faded slightly from the forefront of my mind.
Mate. Want. Breed.
The wolf was relentless.
She wants us, the wolf argued. She said yes.
She doesn't know what she’s saying, the human side countered. She’s caught up in the moment. She doesn't understand the knot. She doesn't understand that if we mate, it’s for life. There is no divorce for wolves.
I reached the ridge overlooking the frozen lake. I stopped, panting, steam rising from my fur.
I looked back toward the cabin. A tiny speck of light in the darkness.
I had to protect her. From Rurik. From the cold.
But mostly, I had to protect her from me.
I howled. A long, mournful sound that echoed across the valley.
It was a warning. To Rurik. To the world.
She is mine. Come and take her if you dare.
But deep down, I knew the real danger wasn't outside the cabin. It was inside. And I was running out of willpower.
I shifted back, shivering as the human skin returned. I walked back to the cabin, naked and freezing, punishing myself for the weakness.
When I got back inside, Eloise was gone.
Panic spiked.
Then I saw the note on the table.
I’m in the loft. I’m safe. Don't come up unless the house is on fire.
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.
I grabbed a blanket and curled up on the rug in front of the fire.
I closed my eyes, but sleep didn't come. All I could hear was her heartbeat upstairs. Steady. soothing.
Soon, the wolf whispered. Soon.
And for the first time, I stopped fighting it.
Because I knew, with a terrifying certainty, that I was going to lose this war. And I couldn't wait to surrender.