Chapter 30
Kane
I’m halfway down the hall when I realize Violet isn’t following. My steps slow as I glance back at her over my shoulder, and what I see is… unsettling, to say the least.
I’m an expert in body language at this point, and hers is screaming that something’s wrong. She’s standing there frozen, barely breathing, staring at me like she’s just seen a damn ghost.
“What?” I ask, my pulse kicking up a notch.
She opens her mouth, then closes it again, her hands clenching at her sides. My inner wolf perks up, a strange sense of unease trickling in through the bond. There’s something shining in those wild blue eyes of hers that definitely wasn’t there a minute ago. Confusion and… fear?
The atmosphere shifts, tension suddenly tightening the air between us as I pivot to face her fully, advancing a step in her direction.
That’s when she seems to finally snap out of it. She blinks hard, shaking her head and forcing a hollow laugh.
“Nothing, just too much whiskey,” Violet says lightly. “I think I’m gonna…” she waves a hand in the vague direction of the living room, “sit down before my legs stop working.”
She’s lying. I’ve participated in enough interrogations over my decades-long career to recognize the way her inflection changed, the way she’s still breathing a little too fast.
I don’t call her on it. Not yet. Instead, I hold her gaze for a long moment, then jerk my chin toward the living room. “Sit down. I’ll get you some water.”
She quickly averts her eyes and moves to obey, her shoulders rigid and her gait a little too jerky.
I turn back around and continue down the hall to the kitchen, racking my brain for what could’ve caused this abrupt shift in her demeanor.
I hear her muffled exhale as she drops down onto the couch, and a prickle of unease creeps up my spine.
What the hell changed in the five minutes since Whit left?
And that’s when it hits me. Whit.
Violet and I had an agreement. Physical intimacy, emotional distance.
There were clear lines drawn, but I guess at some point they started to blur without either of us realizing.
So much so that I brought her here, let her meet my family.
Started playing house as if this bond was a choice we both made.
It wasn’t.
But I got so swept up in it– in her– that I let myself forget what this really is. What it has to be.
I exhale a slow breath, scrubbing a hand over my face before retrieving a glass from the cabinet and filling it with water from the tap.
When I carry it into the living room, I find Violet perched on the far end of the couch with her knees tucked into her chest, her arms wrapped around them tightly like she’s trying to make herself as small as possible.
“Here,” I grunt, thrusting the glass toward her.
She forces a brittle smile as she reaches up to take it from me, the slight tremble in her fingers betraying her nerves. “Thanks.”
I take a seat beside her on the couch, far enough away to give her space, close enough that she can’t forget I’m here. Resting my arm along the backs of the cushions, I watch her out of the corner of my eye, cataloguing every detail.
She sips her water slowly, gaze drifting toward the window. There’s nothing to see beyond it but blackness at this hour, but her eyes stay fixed there, purposefully avoiding mine.
“You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” I murmur, watching her face carefully. “You were fine five minutes ago. Then Whit leaves, and suddenly you look ready to crawl out of your own skin.”
She huffs a quiet laugh, leaning forward to set the water glass on the coffee table in front of us before turning to meet my stare. “Yeah, well. Your brother’s a lot.”
“He does that on purpose,” I sigh, dragging a hand through my hair. “Gets a kick out of being the loudest person in the room.”
The corner of her mouth lifts, but it’s a weak imitation of her usual smirk. “Mission accomplished, I guess.”
I continue studying her, looking for the crack in her veneer. “It’s not about Whit though, is it?” I hedge.
Her eyes flick away. “What makes you say that?”
I reach out for her instinctively, catching her chin in a hand and turning her face toward mine, forcing her to look at me. “Tell me.”
Violet sucks in a breath and jerks her chin from my hold, shaking her head. “You wouldn’t get it,” she mutters.
“Try me.”
She’s silent for so long I almost repeat myself. Staring out the window at the dark, tracing the curve of her upper lip with her tongue. Then, finally, she says, “You ever just… realize something? Out of nowhere. And then it makes everything else look different?”
“All the time,” I reply dryly. “Usually, it means I missed something I should’ve seen sooner.”
She nods, lips pressed together. “Right.”
Trying to pin her down is like wrestling a phantom. She’s withdrawn into herself, and I have no right to keep pressing her for answers when it’s pretty damn obvious she doesn’t want to talk about it.
I let it go, changing the subject. “We’ll head back to the city in the morning.”
She lifts her head, squinting at me. “But I thought…”
“I’ve got work,” I interrupt. “And I doubt you want me to leave you stranded out here while I commute back and forth.”
Her brow furrows. “I thought you said you were off for a few days?”
“Things change,” I say with a shrug.
She nods, exhaling a slow breath. “Yeah, okay.” She slides her feet to the floor and pushes up off the couch, arms wrapping around her body. “I’m gonna get ready for bed,” she murmurs, feet dragging as she starts toward the bedroom.
I watch her go, torn between wanting to follow and wanting to give her space.
She closes the door behind her– a solid indication she wants to be alone– so I just sit there stewing in my own thoughts for a while, listening to the slide of the drawers, the creak of the bedframe.
Wondering whether bringing her here was a colossal mistake.
When I finally drag my ass off the couch and go in the bedroom, she’s already tucked underneath the covers, wearing one of my t-shirts.
She’s facing away from me, her hair a dark tangle on the pillow.
I quietly strip down to my boxers and climb into bed beside her, careful not to jostle her too much as I get settled.
The silence is thick. I can tell by her breathing that she’s not asleep yet, but she doesn’t make any of her usual snide comments about me taking up too much space or try to rile me up until I snap and put her through the mattress. Instead, she just lies there motionless, tense as a coiled spring.
I lie flat on my back, staring up at the ceiling while my inner wolf whines in my head.
My fingers twitch with the urge to reach for Violet, but she’s so closed off right now that she’d probably flinch at my touch.
That’d be worse than whatever this is, so I keep my hands to myself, willing my body to relax.
The minutes crawl by painfully slow. At some point, I eventually drift off.
When I wake, it’s to an empty bed and a fist-sized lump of dread in my gut.
She’s gone.
I’m up and out of bed in two seconds flat, checking the en-suite bathroom, then the hall.
There’s no sign of her in the kitchen, the living room…
anywhere in the damn house. My heart thuds against my ribs as I open the back door, bare feet slapping against the cold wood as I step out onto the deck and scan the lawn.
The sky’s still pitch black, a cool breeze whispering through the trees. I don’t see Violet anywhere, but I do find the t-shirt she was wearing abandoned at the base of the deck stairs.
“Violet?” I call, holding my breath as I listen for a response. The only answer is the wind through the pines, apprehension tightening my throat.
I bound down the stairs, strip off my boxers, and call my wolf forward.
He bursts through my skin eagerly, the air around me shimmering as my body rearranges.
When I land on four paws, the whole world sharpens– scent, sound, every detail snapping into focus.
I catch a whiff of lemon and peony on the breeze, bolting for the treeline to follow it.
It doesn’t take me long to track her down. I spot Violet’s sleek black wolf perched at the crest of a hill, staring out at the water through the trees. Her head snaps in my direction when she hears me coming, and rather than waiting there or coming toward me, she spins around and takes off.
Fantastic.
My human mind is irritated, but a ripple of excitement courses through my wolf as we immediately give chase, the instinct to hunt kicking hard.
She’s fast. Faster than I remembered. She darts through the trees, the rhythm of her paws eating up the ground in long, graceful strides.
For a second, it’s exhilarating: the chase, the raw animal need to catch and subdue.
Then it becomes evident that she doesn’t want to get caught.
She zig-zags, doubles back, leads me on a winding loop through the forest. I try to call out to her through the pack mind-link, but she’s not listening, her mental walls slammed shut.
I push harder, cutting through a strand of birch trees and leaping a fallen log, jaws snapping at her heels.
She tries her damndest to evade me, but I’m bigger, stronger, and I know these woods far better than she does.
As soon as I get the opportunity, I close the gap and lunge, tackling her to the ground.
She snaps her teeth furiously, but I easily pin her down, trapping her underneath me.
She snarls and writhes, trying to buck me off.
I just sink my weight down further. When she finally accepts there’s no escape, her body momentarily goes slack.
Then she shifts, forcing the change mid-wrestle.
I follow, letting my body rearrange itself, bones snapping and fur receding.
When the magic in the air around us clears, I’m straddling her on the cold forest floor, both of us naked and gasping for breath.
“Why the fuck did you run?” I pant.