Chapter 4 #2
The admission slipped out before he could stop it, revealing more vulnerability than he’d intended. But something about her presence stripped away his usual defenses and made him want to offer comfort.
Winslet’s fingers wrapped around her wine glass with careful precision, and he found himself mesmerized by the elegant movement of her hands. Everything about her spoke of refinement and wealth, of a life lived far from the brutal realities of arctic survival.
Definitely city-bred, he observed, noting the way she held herself perfectly poised. What brought someone like you to a place like this?
The wine loosened tongues and dissolved barriers with each passing minute.
Korrak studied the way Winslet’s fingers traced the rim of her glass and the subtle flush that had crept up her neck as the alcohol worked its magic.
The candlelight caught the amber highlights in her dark brown hair, and he had to grip his own glass tighter to keep from reaching across the table to touch those silken strands.
Control yourself, his rational mind demanded, even as his polar bear rumbled with satisfaction at having her so close in his sanctuary.
“Ellie mentioned you’ve been alone here for a long time,” she said, her voice softer now, more curious than cautious. “That must be incredibly isolating.”
The observation hit deeper than it should have.
Korrak set down his wine glass with deliberate precision, his gaze meeting hers across the flickering flames.
“I became Alpha of the Icefang clan when I was seventeen,” he heard himself saying, the words spilling out.
“My parents died in an avalanche that winter. One minute they were there, the next...”
He trailed off, surprised by his own vulnerability. He never spoke about that day, about the crushing weight of responsibility that had been thrust upon his shoulders when he was barely more than a boy himself.
Winslet’s expression softened with genuine sympathy. “That must have been overwhelming. To lose them and then have to take care of everyone else while you were still grieving.”
“Grief was a luxury I couldn’t afford when people depended on me for survival.” The words came out harsher than he intended, but she didn’t flinch. Instead, she leaned forward slightly, her attention completely focused on him, making his chest tighten.
“But it must get so lonely at times,” she said quietly. “Living alone, not having a partner to share it all with.”
The innocent observation sent heat racing through his veins.
His polar bear stirred, wanting to tell her that he’d been waiting for her, that every lonely night had been leading to this moment when she would finally arrive to complete the missing piece of his soul.
But admitting that would send her running into the storm.
“Loneliness is safer than attachment,” he said instead, his voice carefully controlled even as his knuckles whitened around his wine glass. “In my world, caring about someone makes you vulnerable.”
She studied his face with those perceptive green eyes, and he had the unsettling feeling that she could see straight through him. “That sounds like a very rigid way to live. And pretty depressing.”
Maybe so, he thought, watching the way her lips curved around the rim of her glass as she took another sip.
“What about you?” he asked, desperate to shift the focus away from his own emotional minefield.
A shadow crossed her features, and her posture tensed slightly. “I moved to Seattle six months ago looking for a fresh start. It was going pretty well until recently. But sometimes things change quickly, and you adapt.”
The careful way she phrased it sent warning bells through his system. His alpha instincts sharpened, reading the subtle signs of a woman who’d learned to tiptoe around the truth too long.
“What changed quickly?” he pressed gently, noting how her breathing had quickened.
Her smile became brittle around the edges. “Just some recent developments made it clear that Seattle wouldn’t work out for me.”
His polar bear wanted to demand clearer answers, to identify and eliminate whatever had put that haunted look in her eyes. But pushing now would only drive her further away.
“Moving to a big city and then to the middle of nowhere takes real courage,” he said instead, his voice deliberately warm and encouraging. “Most people couldn’t handle either transition, let alone both.”
The tension in her shoulders eased fractionally, and she gifted him with a genuine smile that made his heart skip a beat. “You’re different from other men I’ve known.”
Because I’m not entirely human, he thought wryly. “How so?”
“You actually listen. Most men just wait for their turn to talk.”
The simple observation pleased his polar bear more than it should have. “So I take it that you’ve been seriously involved before?”
She was quiet for a long moment, swirling the wine in her glass. “A few boyfriends in college. Then there was one...” She stopped abruptly, her face going pale. “It ended badly. Very abruptly.”
The pain in her voice made his protective instincts surge with violent intensity. His polar bear caught the scent of fear clinging to her, and his body tensed with the need to hunt down whoever had hurt her.
Easy, he warned himself, forcing his expression to remain neutral. She’s not ready to trust you with that story yet.
“I’m sorry,” he said simply. “Bad endings leave scars.”
She looked surprised by his restraint, as if she’d expected him to pry for details. “They do.”
The storm outside had intensified, wind howling against the windows with increasing fury. Korrak glanced toward the front of the cabin, his enhanced hearing picking up the dangerous pitch of the gale.
“Why don’t we move closer to the fire?” he suggested, rising from his chair. “I can better explain how things work here in Northland Bay while we get more comfortable.”
She nodded, following him toward the massive stone hearth that dominated one wall of the cabin. The flames cast flickering shadows across the rustic furniture, creating an atmosphere that was both intimate and primal.
They settled onto the leather couch, and Korrak had to clench his fists to keep from reaching for her as her familiar jasmine scent enveloped him. The magnetic pull between them intensified in the firelight, every cell in his body screaming that she belonged here, belonged to him.
No, he reminded himself sternly. Control.
“I want you to know that you can count on me,” he said a bit too fast. “Whatever you need, day or night, just reach out on the walkie. I’ll be there.”
Her eyes widened. “I’m grateful for your attentiveness. I really want this place to work out for me.”
“I do too,” he said before he could stop himself, the words carrying far more weight than simple hospitality warranted.
She didn’t seem to mind the slip, though color rose in her cheeks as their gazes locked across the small space between them. The air crackled with unspoken tension, and his polar bear roared with satisfaction at her obvious attraction.
The storm battered against the windows with renewed violence, and Korrak’s expression grew serious as he assessed the conditions outside. “I don’t think it’s safe to take you back to the outpost tonight.”
“I don’t mind staying,” she replied too quickly. “No sense either of us getting stuck in a blizzard.”
His polar bear practically purred at the thought of having her under his roof all night, but Korrak forced himself to maintain appropriate boundaries. “You can take my bed. I’ll sleep out here.”
“That sounds perfect,” she said, her voice slightly breathless as she rose to her feet. “Thank you for being such a gracious host tonight.”
The walk down the hallway to his bedroom was the longest of his life.
Every step brought her deeper into his private sanctuary, her scent marking his territory in ways that made his control fray at the edges.
When they stepped inside his bedroom, he pulled out one of his shirts from the dresser, the soft cotton still carrying traces of his scent.
“You can sleep in this,” he said, his voice strained as he handed her the shirt. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
It took every ounce of willpower he possessed to walk out of that bedroom and leave his mate alone in his bed. His polar bear raged against the restraint, demanding he claim what was rightfully his, but Korrak made himself return to the living room.
He collapsed onto the couch, running his hands through his golden hair as the reality of the situation crashed over him. Down the hall, Winslet was settling into his bed, surrounded by his scent, and he was supposed to just lie here and pretend his entire world hadn’t shifted on its axis.
She’s already breached every wall you’ve built, he realized with growing alarm. And you may not be able to hold back much longer.