Chapter 12 Rune
TWELVE
RUNE
Rune stared at his phone long after the call ended, the device warm in his palm from how tightly he’d been gripping it.
The silence of his cabin pressed against him, but for the first time in seven days, it didn’t feel suffocating.
She’d called. After a week of radio silence that had nearly driven him to the edge of sanity, Electra had reached out.
He’d been standing in his living room, keys in hand, about to head to the diner for Millie’s Thursday night special when his phone had buzzed. The sight of Electra’s name on the screen had frozen him mid-step, his wolf surging with desperate hope while his human side braced for rejection.
Seven days. Seven days of carrying his phone everywhere, checking it obsessively, and jumping at every notification.
Seven days of patrolling past her cabin under the pretense of routine sheriff duties, noting the lights that stayed on too late.
Seven days of fighting the primal urge to storm her door and demand she stop torturing them both with this separation.
He’d almost given up. This morning, staring at another sleepless dawn, he’d finally accepted that she’d made her choice.
That whatever brief connection they’d shared had been overwhelmed by the impossibility of what he’d revealed.
A human woman, successful and independent, choosing to bind herself to a wolf shifter Alpha?
It defied logic. He’d been a fool to hope otherwise.
But she’d called.
The relief in his voice when he’d answered had been impossible to hide, bleeding through despite his attempts at control.
When she’d asked how he’d been, the invitation for dinner had tumbled out before he could second-guess it.
Because the truth was he hadn’t been doing well at all in her absence. And he’d desperately needed to see her.
Just food and company, he’d lied. As if anything involving Electra could ever be that simple.
Now he had exactly one hour to prepare a meal that would nourish her properly without overwhelming her with too much intensity.
She’d admitted to not eating much for a week—the knowledge hit his wolf like a physical blow.
His mate had been suffering, struggling alone, while he’d forced himself to respect her need for space.
Never again. The vow formed without conscious thought. Whatever happened tonight, whatever she decided about the bond between them, he wouldn’t let her face anything alone again.
Rune moved through his kitchen with practiced efficiency, pulling ingredients from the refrigerator and pantry. Nothing too elaborate—she’d be suspicious if he went overboard. But nothing cold or impersonal either. Comfort food.
Chicken and dumplings. His mother’s recipe, one of the few things he remembered clearly from before her death. The familiar motions of chopping vegetables and seasoning the broth grounded him, giving his restless energy a purpose beyond pacing and worrying.
The scents filled his cabin as he worked—onions and celery, herbs and slowly simmering chicken.
Homey smells that transformed the austere space into something warmer and more welcoming.
He caught himself arranging and rearranging the place settings, adjusting the lighting, and forced himself to stop.
Control, he reminded himself. She needs to feel safe, not overwhelmed.
Fifty-eight minutes after their call ended, he was setting the plates on his dining table when the doorbell chimed. His pulse spiked, wolf and man united in their desperate anticipation. She was exactly on time—punctual, probably as nervous as he was.
Rune took a steadying breath and went to answer the door. When he opened it, everything inside him went utterly, completely still.
She stood on his porch in a yellow sundress that turned her skin to warm honey and made her green eyes luminous in the evening light.
Her dark brown hair fell around her shoulders, and she’d taken time with makeup—subtle but deliberate.
The knowledge that she’d wanted to look good for him sent a dangerous thrill through his system.
“Hi.” Her voice carried the same breathless quality from their phone call, and he could hear her pulse racing from where he stood.
“Hello, Electra.” He stepped back, gesturing her inside. “Come in. Dinner’s ready.”
She crossed the threshold, and his wolf rose instantly with a bone-deep recognition that made his knees nearly buckle.
Mine. Home. The words echoed through every cell in his body.
This was where she belonged. In his space, surrounded by his scent, close enough that he could protect her from anything that might threaten her. The certainty was so absolute it bypassed every rational thought and struck directly at his core.
He forced himself to breathe through the surge of possessive need as she stepped fully into his living room. Her scent—jasmine and vanilla and something uniquely her—wove through the air, threading into every corner of the cabin.
The space felt different with her in it. Warmer and fuller. Charged with an energy that had been missing for longer than he cared to admit.
She was looking around, taking in the careful order of his home. No clutter. No excess. Everything functional and purposeful, from the dark leather furniture to the stone fireplace that dominated one wall. No trophies or personal mementos that might reveal too much about the man who lived here.
It struck him with unexpected force that she was seeing him—not the Alpha who commanded respect through authority, not the Sheriff who maintained order through discipline, but the man who lived alone in this carefully controlled space. The realization felt more intimate than he’d anticipated.
“This way.”
He guided her toward the dining room, his hand hovering near her back without quite touching. Even that closeness sent heat shooting through his system.
Rune pulled out her chair with deliberate care, waiting until she settled before pushing it gently back to the table. The simple courtesy felt weighted with significance—a gesture of care that he hoped she’d recognize without reading too much into it.
“This looks incredible,” she said, her eyes taking in the steaming plates and warm bread he’d set out. “I’m absolutely starved.”
“Well, dig in.” He took his seat across from her. “I wanted to make you some real comfort food. I know the past week has been...”
“Overwhelming?” She supplied the word with a wry smile.
“I was going to say difficult.” He kept his voice gentle. “I know what I told you was a lot to process.”
Rune watched the delicate tracing of Electra’s fingers along the edge of her napkin.
“It was a lot, Rune. Wolf shifters. Packs. And me… your fated mate.” She met his gaze, her green eyes wide and vulnerable.
“I’ve been… frozen. Like my brain just shut down.
I couldn’t write. Could barely think. This morning…
” She swallowed hard. “This morning, I almost called Cosette. Almost packed the car and headed back to Hartford. Almost threw in the towel on everything.”
Each admission was a knife twisting in Rune’s gut. His wolf snarled at the thought of her leaving, of the distance stretching back out between them. He kept his hands clenched on his thighs beneath the table, forcing stillness into his frame.
“But then…” Her voice softened, a tremor running through it.
“I thought of you. Of what you said. About this… connection. And I couldn’t picture leaving.
Couldn’t picture not having you… close.” She looked down at her hands.
“I’m terrified, Rune. Completely out of my depth.
But the thought of walking away felt worse. ”
Relief, fierce and primal, surged through him, momentarily robbing him of breath. It wasn’t acceptance, not yet, but it wasn’t rejection. It was a fragile thread of hope.
“Electra,” his voice was thick with the emotion he usually locked away.
“I won’t rush you. I won’t force a single damn thing you’re not ready for.
Just… stay here. With me. That’s all I need.
” He leaned forward slightly, the polished wood of the table cool beneath his forearms. “These past seven days…” He shook his head, the words inadequate.
“They were hell. Empty. Knowing you were so close, hurting, and I couldn’t… ”
“I needed you too,” she whispered, the confession seeming to surprise her as much as it did him. Her gaze lifted, locking onto his. The fear was still there, but beneath it, a spark of the fierce woman he’d first pulled over. “I felt… untethered. Lost.”
Then she moved. Not with hesitation, but with a sudden, decisive grace. Her hand reached across the table, not for his hand, but for the fabric of his henley collar. Her fingers curled into the soft cotton.
Rune went utterly still. His wolf howled its approval, a savage sound trapped in his chest. He held himself rigid, giving her that crucial second to reclaim the choice.
His entire existence narrowed to the pressure of her fingers on his collar, the determined set of her jaw, and the turbulent green of her eyes.
She didn’t pull away though. She pulled harder.
He met her halfway, leaning across the table as she yanked him closer. Dishes clattered, and a spoon skittered onto the floor. Their lips crashed together not in tentative exploration, but in a collision of pent-up longing and raw hunger. Her mouth was soft and demanding against his.
Mine. Finally.
The kiss deepened, a frantic tangle of lips and tongues and shared breath.
Rational thought evaporated. His hands found her waist, large and possessive, and he hauled her body across the scattered remnants of their meal.
Plates shifted, a glass tipped over, spilling water onto the wood.
He settled her weight firmly in his lap, her sundress riding up her thighs.
The feel of her, warm and pliant against the growing hardness straining against his jeans, was exquisite torture.