Chapter 7 #2
"Duty is just a fancy word for doing what other people want you to do," she said sharply.
"Spoken like a true Dean’s daughter."
"I know," she said, leaning in. "That’s how I know you’re lying. You hate it. I can see it in your eyes, Jack. You want to leave. You want to play."
I stared at her. Nobody saw that. Not Silas. Not the coaches. Everyone just assumed I wanted the power. The Alpha status.
"I want to run," I admitted, the truth tearing out of me. "I want to see something other than these trees. I want to play on ice where I don't have to worry about smelling a rival wolf in the stands."
"Then do it," she whispered.
"I can't."
"Why?"
"Because," I reached across the table, covering her hand with mine. "If I leave, who protects the things that matter? Who protects you?"
The air between us shimmered. The noise of the bar faded. It was just us. The monster who wanted to be a man, and the princess who wanted to be free.
"Hey! Sterling!"
The bubble burst.
I didn't move my hand, but my head snapped toward the aisle.
Standing there was a wall of meat in a varsity letterman jacket. Football player. Linebacker. Brad... something. I’d tackled him once in a charity flag football game and he’d never forgiven me.
He was drunk. He was swaying. And he was leering at Eloise.
"Didn't know you shopped in the luxury aisle," Brad slurred, gesturing to Eloise. "Hey, sweet thing. Why you hanging out with the dog pound? You know these guys share everything, right?"
The table went silent.
My vision went red at the edges. The Wolf roared. Kill.
I started to stand up. My knuckles pressed into the table, ready to launch myself over it and rearrange Brad’s facial symmetry.
But Eloise moved first.
She didn't stand up. She didn't look scared. She didn't look at me for help.
She picked up her beer—the one she hadn't touched yet—and looked at Brad with an expression of bored, clinical detachment.
"Brad, isn't it?" she asked. Her voice was cool, crisp, and loud enough to be heard over the nearby tables.
"Yeah," Brad grinned, thinking he had an in.
"You’re a Kinesiology major," she continued. "I grade the sophomore labs for Professor Miller. I saw your last exam."
Brad’s grin faltered. "Uh..."
"You labeled the femur as the humerus," she said, taking a sip of her beer. "And you spelled 'muscle' with one 's'. Based on your cognitive performance, I’m surprised you remember how to breathe without a diagram, let alone successfully hit on a woman who is vastly out of your league."
The booth behind us exploded in laughter. Even the kitchen staff was snickering.
Brad turned purple. He looked like he wanted to argue, but the sheer, icy humiliation radiating off Eloise Vance was a force field.
"Whatever," Brad muttered. "Stuck up bitch."
He turned to leave.
"Brad," I said. My voice wasn't loud. It was a low, vibrating rumble that cut through the noise like a chainsaw.
He stopped. He looked at me.
I smiled. It was the smile of a wolf who had just found a rabbit with a limp.
"Apologize," I said.
"Jack, it’s fine," Eloise touched my arm.
"No," I said, not looking at her. My eyes were locked on Brad. "He called you a name. He apologizes. Or he leaves through the window. Closed."
Brad looked at me. He saw the tension in my shoulders. He saw the way the bouncers by the door had all turned to watch, their arms crossed. He did the math.
"Sorry," he muttered to the floor. "Sorry, Eloise."
"Accepted," Eloise said breezily. "Now go away. You’re blocking the pizza."
Brad scurried away.
I sat back down, the adrenaline slowly receding. I looked at Eloise. She was calmly drinking her beer, though her hand was trembling slightly.
"You labeled the femur as the humerus?" I asked, a grin spreading across my face.
She giggled. "I have no idea. I’ve never graded a paper in my life. But he looks like the type."
I laughed. I threw my head back and laughed until my ribs ached.
"You," I said, shaking my head, "are dangerous."
"I told you," she smiled, her eyes soft. "I can handle myself."
"I know," I said, looking at her with a fierce, overwhelming pride. "But it was really hot watching you do it."
She blushed, ducking her head. "Eat your pizza, Wolf."
We ate. We drank. We argued about music. We laughed.
For an hour, we were just Jack and Eloise. A team. A unit.
And for the first time, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, I could have this.
The drive back to the dorm was different.
The playful banter was gone, replaced by a heavy, magnetic pull. The car felt smaller. The air felt hotter.
Every time I shifted gears, my hand brushed her knee. I didn't pull away. I let my fingers linger on the denim. She didn't move away. She leaned into it.
We pulled up to the curb. I killed the engine.
The silence was deafening.
"So," Eloise whispered, staring at the dashboard. "Safety achieved. No kidnappers. No wolves."
"Just one wolf," I murmured.
I unbuckled my seatbelt and turned to her.
"Eloise."
She turned. Her eyes were wide, dark in the shadows. Her lips were parted.
"Thank you," she said softly. "For tonight. For making me feel... normal."
"There is nothing normal about you," I rasped, reaching out.
I tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear. My fingers lingered on her jawline. Her skin was burning hot.
"Jack," she breathed. It was a question. A permission.
I didn't wait.
I leaned across the console and kissed her.
This wasn't the frantic, adrenaline-fueled kiss from the cabin. This was slow. Deliberate.
My lips brushed hers, testing the give. She tasted of beer and cheese and vanilla—a combination that should have been gross but was the most intoxicating thing I’d ever tasted.
She made a small sound in her throat—a whimper—and opened for me.
I groaned, sliding my hand around the back of her neck, tangling my fingers in her hair. I deepened the kiss, my tongue sweeping inside, tasting her.
She surged forward, her hands gripping the front of my shirt, pulling me closer. The center console dug into my ribs, but I didn't care. I wanted to climb over it. I wanted to pull her into my lap.
I kissed her like I was memorizing her. The soft curve of her lower lip. The way she sighed into my mouth. The way her pulse hammered against my fingertips on her neck.
"Jack," she gasped against my lips. "Jack, we’re... we’re in public."
"Windows are tinted," I muttered, biting her lower lip. "Don't care."
I moved my hand down her neck, over the leather jacket, to her breast. Even through the layers, I felt her heart racing. I brushed my thumb over the peak, hearing her sharp intake of breath.
"You’re killing me, Mouse," I whispered against her jaw. "You have no idea."
"Then kill me," she whispered back, arching into my touch.
The words were a bucket of ice water.
Then kill me.
It reminded me of who I was. What I was.
I was too strong. Too rough. If I lost control here, in a truck cab, I could hurt her. I could mark her where everyone would see.
I pulled back. It took every ounce of strength I had. My muscles screamed in protest. My wolf howled, clawing at the inside of my chest. NO! MINE!
"I can't," I panted, resting my forehead against hers. "Not here. Not yet."
Eloise was breathless, her lips swollen, her eyes dazed. She blinked, coming back to reality.
"Right," she whispered, smoothing her hair. "Right. Ground rules."
"Ground rules," I agreed, though I wanted to burn the rulebook.
She reached for the door handle. Her hand was shaking.
"Goodnight, Jack," she said.
"Keep the jacket," I said. "I like knowing you’re wearing it."
She looked back at me. A small, secret smile played on her lips.
"Goodnight, Wolf."
She slipped out of the truck and walked up the path to her dorm. She didn't look back.
I watched her until the door closed behind her.
I slumped back in the seat, staring at the ceiling of the truck. I was hard, aching, and frustrated beyond belief.
But I was also smiling.
Because I knew something now.
She wasn't just my Fated Mate because of biology. She was my partner. She was the other half of the ice.
And I was going to figure out a way to keep her. Even if I had to fight the whole damn world to do it.