Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Lucas
It’s too early for alcohol, but here I sit, alone in my office, staring at the cup of coffee I dosed heavily with liquor but haven’t touched.
I didn’t sleep last night, and even now, my thoughts are heavy. Every time I close my eyes, I see her. Feel her hands fisting in my collar. Taste her lips. Hear her voice drop to that provocative tone that shattered every defense I had.
Seeing her with another man made me snap. So much for my legendary self-control. I kissed her before I even realized I was moving.
I didn’t intend to. I fought against it with everything I had.
But that woman is so forward, so demanding, so relentlessly confrontational that she continually leaves me in shock. I was sure she’d back off once she realized I was not interested in her. I underestimated her persistence. I don’t know why I’m surprised; female shifters don’t like the word “no.”
I groan. I knew I shouldn’t have let her come here.
I could taste the champagne on her tongue. Her scent was overwhelming, filling my senses until I couldn’t think straight. I was already on the edge of going feral, and seriously considering banning everything citrus and jasmine from the territory…And then, she said those infuriating words…
The kiss was everything I’d been denying myself since the moment I first set eyes on her. Her mouth, soft and demanding under mine, her supple body pressed against me, the mate bond pulsing between us like a living thing.
And then, Lydia walked in, and reality crashed down on me.
Once I got my senses back, I panicked. Not because Lydia had seen us—though that was bad enough—but because I was terrified of what I might see when I looked at Sienna.
She didn’t notice how distraught I was since she was looking at Lydia, but I desperately scanned her body while she was distracted, searching for any sign of harm. Any indication that kissing me, touching me, had triggered something.
But there was nothing. No marks. No changes. No sign that physical contact had harmed her at all.
I bring the cup of coffee that is basically alcohol to my lips and drink it all in one go. The mixture burns in my throat, and then farther down in my chest as its warmth spreads through my entire body. I lean back in my chair, rubbing my thumb along the outside of the empty cup.
I guess this means physical touch alone doesn’t trigger anything.
But I should be careful not to take things any further.
What happened last night doesn’t change anything; being with her is still impossible.
I wish I could tell her the truth, but I know it won’t work.
I can’t speak the words—not to her, not to anyone.
I close my eyes and sigh. This would be easier if Sienna weren’t so hardheaded.
Despite the situation, the corner of my lip rises.
She’s a feisty firecracker, bold and determined.
I can’t help but want to watch her all the time, just to see what she’ll do or say next.
Her energy is contagious, all that ambition and drive packed into one small body.
I open my eyes slowly and stare blankly at the ceiling.
What’s the use of admiring a woman I can never have?
But if I let things go on like this, I won’t be able to maintain control.
That kiss proved it. Simply ignoring her isn’t going to work.
My wolf is too desperate to get to her. There has to be something I can do.
I set the cup down, stand up, and pace to the window. The morning sun is just breaking over the estate grounds, gilding the manicured lawns in soft gold. The world looks peaceful. Untouched. A stark contrast to the mess inside my head.
I’m about to turn away when movement catches my eye.
A figure crosses the lawn in long, purposeful strides, heading away from the estate house. I know that walk before I even let myself register who it is.
Sienna. Dark hair loose around her shoulders, a thin jacket pulled over her clothes.
I frown, stepping closer to the window. She’s heading straight for the tree line.
The forest that borders the estate isn’t off limits, exactly.
Pack members walk it all the time. But we’ve had trouble on the outer perimeter—last night being a perfect example—and Lydia specifically told me she gave the Moonvale team a full briefing on estate safety.
They were to inform her or me if they wanted to leave the grounds, especially alone.
Did she tell Lydia? I already know the answer. I check my watch; it’s barely past seven. The household is just beginning to stir. No way Sienna cleared this with anyone.
My wolf surges to attention, suddenly wide awake. She shouldn’t be out there alone. Not after yesterday.
I’m out of my office before I realize what I’m doing. Through the corridor, down the back staircase, out the side door. My strides eat up the distance across the lawn until I reach the edge of the trees.
I catch her scent immediately—jasmine and citrus tangled with the damp morning air—and follow it into the forest.
I see her, but I stay well back. She doesn’t seem to be heading anywhere specific, just walking. Putting distance between herself and the estate.
Between herself and me.
I trail her at a careful distance, staying on the soft moss to keep my footfalls silent. Luckily, I am upwind, so my scent drifts away from her instead of toward her. Decades of running these woods have taught me every shortcut, every vantage point. I could follow her blindfolded.
Her muttering starts about five minutes in.
“…absolute jackass. Who does he even think he is…”
I stop dead behind a thick oak, my eyebrows rising.
“…like I’d want to kiss him anyway. Arrogant, avoidant, emotionally constipated…”
My mouth twitches in spite of myself.
“…and he had the audacity—the audacity!—to kiss me like that and then throw me out as if I’m the problem…”
A breath hisses out of me that I struggle to conceal.
“Jerk. I hope he breaks a toe today…”
She trails off, kicking a stone so hard, it ricochets off a tree.
A hot and unwelcome sensation twists in my chest. Not guilt—I’ve been marinating in that for a week. Maybe the opposite? A thread of pleasure that she’s thinking about me at all. That she’s this worked up, this invested.
I shouldn’t be pleased. I should be relieved that she hates me. That’s what I want. It’s safer. And yet…
My wolf preens inside me. She’s thinking about us.
Shut up.
Sienna stops in a small clearing, running a hand through her hair and exhaling hard at the sky. For a long moment, she just stands there, shoulders rising and falling, and all I can do is watch her. Even furious, even hurt, she is beautiful in the dappled morning light.
My eyes widen when she begins to strip. She tosses her shirt to the ground.
Her jeans follow. Then her bra. She turns away from where I’m hidden as she hooks her thumbs into her underwear and steps out of them.
I watch her crouch down to tie her clothes around her leg with a string she produces from the pocket of her discarded jeans.
She looks up and scans her surroundings. When she faces my direction, I see her eyes sharpen, her wolf coming into them.
She’s going to shift. I step forward, ready to announce myself, to stop her. She can’t run alone out here, not after yesterday, not after—
She shifts.
The change is fluid and practiced, her human form folding seamlessly into wolf.
Her fur is a rich, russet brown, streaked with lighter cream along her chest and belly.
Lean, long legged, elegant in a way I didn’t expect from an office-bound strategic advisor.
She’s smaller than me, smaller than most alphas, but there’s nothing delicate about her. She is built for speed and precision.
She stretches, shakes herself out, and takes off.
My wolf snarls to life, pacing the inside of my skull. Follow. Follow. Follow.
I try to hold on to reason for about three seconds. Then, I strip out of my clothes, tie them to my leg, and shift.
The change crashes over me in a wave of heat and bone and fur, and when it settles, I drop onto four paws and inhale the forest around me.
I catch her scent instantly, laced now with the earthier musk of her wolf form, and I run.
I don’t follow her directly. I sweep wide, circling around to run parallel to her path, staying a good fifty yards off to her left through denser brush. Careful to keep the wind cutting across us sideways so my scent never drifts into her nose. She won’t know I’m here.
She’s fast. Faster than I expected. Her paws barely seem to touch the ground, the blur of her body weaving through trees with an ease that speaks of a lot more running than I would have guessed a corporate executive gets to do.
She’s happy out here. I can see it in the way she runs—not like she’s going anywhere but running for the sake of it, for the joy of it, for the burn in her muscles and the wind on her face.
I pace her easily. My wolf is much bigger, has longer legs, and I’ve run these woods my entire life. But I find myself matching her pace rather than overtaking her, content to watch.
She’s magnificent.
Don’t, I tell myself.
I watch her anyway.
She runs for nearly an hour. Across the ridge, down the valley, along a deer path I’ve known since I was a pup. She never slows, never seems tired, and when I finally see her stumble to a halt, I realize she has found the lake.
Not the big one on the western boundary. The little one tucked into the hollow between two rises, fed by a cold spring, ringed with birch trees. My private place. The one I used to come to as a boy to escape my father’s endless lectures. I haven’t been here in years.
Of course she found it.
I slow down, drifting into the trees at the edge of the clearing, my paws silent on the pine needles. I stay low, hidden behind a thick cluster of ferns.
Sienna shifts back.