Chapter 13
He was such an asshole. That much was clear. He could have shut things down more elegantly. But it was better this way. Better if his little witch wanted nothing to do with him.
Made it easier to keep his distance. Because his self control was hanging by a thread. He’d snapped when she’d tackled him.
The feel of her body on his?
Instant need.
He’d claimed her mouth, been ready to claim all of her. To knot her and fuck her and bite her and mark her. There was no going back after something like that. She would have belonged to him. Tied to him permanently.
His.
Fuck.
That sounded good.
Mine, his wolf growled, trying to push back to the front of his mind. Pawing at him restlessly as the witch in question set off through the forest, her map in hand.
He followed at a safe distance, lugging the tote holding the remains of their picnic. A fucking picnic. Like this was a romance movie or some shite.
His jaw tightened.
Thank fuck she’d bitten his lip—like a little kitten. It had snapped him out of his haze. Otherwise, he’d have been balls deep inside her. And she would have welcomed it.
Because there was no mistaking the scent of her arousal. The sounds of her little moans. The way she squirmed against him.
Everything about her made him want to taste her. Want to slide those tight fucking leggings down her legs and lap up every drop of her. Then make her come so he could lap that up too.
“You know, you don’t need to follow me around, Wolfie,” she called over her shoulder. “Perfectly capable of doing this myself.”
He grunted but said nothing. Didn’t rise to her bait.
The truth was, he couldn’t leave her calming presence. Not when he was feeling this volatile. There was a chance he’d return home and snap. That wasn’t a risk he could take.
So he followed her instead.
“What segments are you looking at today?” he found himself asking.
“Does it matter?”
He sighed, biting his tongue.
Eventually she reached a rocky outcropping. She made her way around it, investigating. He’d been here numerous times. Knew there wasn’t a cave opening.
So he simply watched her as she assessed.
The way she unconsciously tucked the same strand of hair behind her left ear every few minutes.
How she chewed the corner of her bottom lip, worrying it until it was pink and slightly swollen.
She had a habit of talking to herself under her breath.
She probably didn’t realize she was doing it.
He wasn’t going to tell her either, because it was fucking adorable.
He loved seeing her here, moving through his forest, stepping over roots and ducking under branches. The sight made his wolf rumble with satisfaction. He intended to soak up every moment.
Because once she got her magic back, why would she want to stay with him?
A broken wolf with an expiration date? She’d be powerful enough to stand up to Ambrose Blackthorn.
Brilliant enough to go on to whatever physics career she wanted.
She’d have no reason to tie herself to him, live in isolation, count down the remaining days until he cracked.
Which was why he needed to keep his distance.
That didn’t mean he was going to pass up the opportunity she presented. He would use these days, as many as he could, to be close to her. To let his wolf be at peace, if only for a little while.
“So…” He cut through the silence. “How’d you come by the little snacks?”
“Basil and Sage.” She ran her hand along part of a rock. No cave entrance in sight.
“Basil and Sage,” he said, prompting her.
She didn’t answer.
“How did you come by Basil and Sage?” he repeated, trying to break the ice that had frozen between them.
“Adopted them,” she finally answered. Then she pulled out her map, made a note, tucked it away, and left him standing there.
His nostrils flared in irritation. Not that he had any reason to be. She had every right to give him the cold shoulder.
He stomped after her, moving less fluidly than was usual.
They continued like this the rest of the afternoon. Him asking her little questions. How long had she owned the bunnies? Three years. How were her classes going this semester? Fine. Was she going back home for the holidays? No.
She answered every question with a single word to shut him down. He did his best not to let his irritation get the better of him.
When he finally suggested they turn around, the afternoon sun was falling fast. While he could find his way back in the dark without issue, he didn’t want her getting hurt.
Not because he’d have to carry her. In fact, he liked that idea very much.
But because the thought of her injured made his stomach roil.
He set the pace, taking the lead given that he intimately knew the lay of the land.
It was full dark by the time they entered the cabin. “I’ll start on dinner,” he jumped in to say.
“Sure.” That she didn’t argue illustrated just how hurt she was.
“See to the little snacks.”
“Planning on it.”
He sighed. It was on the tip of his tongue to try and better explain his reasoning. But… He needed this. Needed her to keep the distance between them. Which meant he needed to stop pushing. To stop trying to get her to warm to him again.
Which was why he made himself scarce after dinner, taking another run through the wilderness. Returning in the wee hours of the morning to sleep on the sofa in the loft. Tossing and turning knowing she was cuddled in his bed. Just imagining her there…
Luckily, sleep wasn’t as imperative in his old age. With each passing century he needed less of it. Which was why he still managed to rise before dawn, set a pot of coffee on and assess his options.
It was Sunday.
Did she like waffles? Or perhaps pancakes? Cinnamon rolls? Damn it.
He stood in front of the pantry, his thoughts jumping through options. “Fuck it.” In the end, he decided on pumpkin bread—because he happened to have a jar of unopened pumpkin puree from last year—omelets, and diced fruit.
The bread took an hour to bake so he started that first. Then he did the fruit, putting it in the fridge to chill afterward, and the omelets. He loaded them with diced ham and cheese and placed them on the warmer.
While the bread was finishing up, he washed and cleaned four types of lettuce, a bunch of cilantro, and sliced a few carrots into small pieces, loading it together in a fancy arrangement. Then he went to greet the little snacks. It wasn’t quite seven yet. But they were eager.
“Bet she never spoils you with early breakfast, huh?”
They were still wary of him, darting into their hiding holes when he opened the enclosure.
He set about tidying things up and left the gate open.
She hadn’t allowed them to free roam yet, so he decided to give it a try.
Sure enough, they ignored their salad entirely and cautiously slipped past him as he cleaned out their boxes, refilling them with some of the pine pellets she kept in a container nearby, then topping them with hay.
He discarded the mess in the garbage bin outside.
When he returned, the little snacks were slipping and sliding their way from rug to rug.
Not hopping, but walking comically on all fours, sniffing and then rubbing their chins all over everything.
Claiming each piece of furniture as their own.
He watched for a moment, amused. “Just because you mark it doesn’t make it yours,” he said, his voice a low, teasing growl.
“What…?”
He smelled her enter the room. But he waited a moment before looking up. It was good that he had, because his gaze immediately honed in on the oversized shirt she was wearing. His shirt. And from the looks of it—
“I’ve got shorts on underneath,” she warned him, tugging up the side of the shirt to show off something he barely considered shorts. Black panties, mostly. He wasn’t sure the small bit of fabric counted as more than that.
Her legs. Her creamy thighs. Generous enough to hold on to. Something he could anchor himself to as he rutted into her—
His cock chose that moment to swell. He clenched his teeth, forcing it to calm, but it was no use.
She was wearing his fucking shirt.
“Before you get angry—”
“I’m not angry—”
“The way you just growled when you said that—”
“I’m not,” he bit out. He was a lot of things, but angry wasn’t one of them. Possessive. Hungry. Desperate.
“I had a bad dream. Woke up with night-sweats. I usually wear my pajamas a few times before washing them but I only brought two pairs and the other night I ruined those too and haven’t had a chance to wash them yet and—”
He closed the distance between them. “You were having nightmares?”
“I…just bad dreams. Yeah. I might need to wash your sheets. Luckily your bed’s big so I was able to move to the other side. I hope you don’t mind. I swear I didn’t go through all your drawers. It was just the first one I opened and so I put it on, that way I wouldn’t—”
“What were your nightmares about? Fuck. Is it Blackthorn? Did he—” His vision was tunneling. He took her face in his hands. Just the feel of her skin against his palms was immediately calming. “Did he hurt you? Tell me what he did. I will fucking end him.”
“Axel.”
“You’re right. You probably shouldn’t.” He dropped his hands and began to pace. “Because if you do, I’ll break half the things in here first. Then I’ll have to build more. And it would scare the little snacks. They’re only just getting brave enough to venture out.”
“Axel.”
“Maybe you could write it down for me. Then I can drive into town and read it there. Then I will find him. Then I will end him.”
“Axel!” she cried.
This time he whirled, then stalked back over to her. “What is it? Tell me what he did. Was it bad?”
“He…” Something flashed in her gaze—an old hurt. Then she pulled her head back, out of his reach. “It’s nothing you need to concern yourself over. My past is not your business or your responsibility.”
He didn’t like that. “Rebecca.”
“No.” She backed up another step. “I’m sorry about the shirt.
I should have dressed first before coming out.
I just wanted to check on the bunnies. I’ll go change.
And if you direct me to your laundry room, I can get everything washed.
I won’t invade your privacy again. I’ll…
I just need to go by my place again today and I can get more stuff. ”
A low growl built in his chest. “No.”
“No?”
“You can keep wearing my shirts. No need to make a special trip to your place.”
“Axel. I don’t know what this is with you. This hot and cold. But you will drive me to my place and I will get more of my things. Unless you don’t want me living here anymore?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. She was right. He was being a right bastard.
“Fine. But you’re eating breakfast first.”
She hesitated. “I’ll go change and then—”
“Now, Rebecca. There’s no need to change.”
Because he was a masochist and wanted to see her in his clothes just a little longer, even if it hurt to know he’d never have her.
“Axel. Why are you being like this?”
“Because I’m lacking in the people skills department, remember?”
She sighed. “Something tells me that’s not the whole truth of it. And maybe if you wanted me to be more open about things, you ought to lead by example.”
She had him there.
Stomping over to the island, she finally took a seat. He relaxed at her compliance, then went into the kitchen and began dishing up breakfast. Knowing it was best if he kept quiet, he tried his best to eat without staring at her the whole time.
He had to shift multiple times to get comfortable.
Her eyes darted to him every time he did. He wondered if she noticed the raging hard on beneath his sweats, but her eyes hadn’t dropped to his crotch. Hopefully.
Otherwise, what? Would he give another winning explanation? Something else to do with biology?
“Thank you for breakfast,” she said when she was finished, rinsing her plate in the sink before disappearing. He cleaned everything else up while she showered, then went up to the loft and changed into jeans and a long sleeved flannel.
The drive into town was quiet. Tense.
“I need to drop by the market,” he said, if only to break up the silence.
“Don’t you usually do that Thursdays?”
“Usually. But I have a craving for pizza and I need some pepperoni.”
“We could just pick up—”
“Don’t say it,” he warned, keeping his voice teasing.
The corner of her lips twitched and it felt like the biggest fucking victory. “Say what?”
“You were going to say we could just pick up carry out.” She lifted a shoulder. “Have you ever had home made pizza?”
“Is there much difference from that and the stuff you get at The Slice House?”
He groaned. “You’re breaking my heart, little witch.”
“Well… I mean. It’s just dough, sauce, mozzarella and toppings, yeah?”
“Fuck my life. You’re getting pizza. Tonight.”
This time, her grin was out in full. The sight of it, the knowledge that he’d made her smile, made his chest feel tight.
Which only made him more determined than ever.
He was going to make her the best fucking pizza she’d ever tasted.