18. Chapter 18
Chapter 18
Gage
I sat up so sharply my head was spinning. Beneath me was soft. Not the soft moss I was expecting after a night running in the woods, but the familiar softness of a mattress. White sheets wrapped around my leg. The blue down comforter had been thrown overboard, crumpled in a pile on the wood floor.
Dim morning light illuminated the trees through the wall of windows. The greens of cedar and spruce seemed brighter as they filled the space between the skeletal arms of their leafless neighbors.
Everything seemed brighter, even as a dusting of snow sparkled in the air.
I inhaled, warmed to the bone by the delicious smell permeating the room. Was someone cutting flowers in here? It smelled like the first warm day in springtime. Like sunshine and nectar and peace.
Peace. Inside my wolf was content, almost purring that word with every breath.
He should be raging. I should be raging.
There was only one reason for him to be this satisfied…
I twisted, nearly falling out of bed as I searched the other side for Abigail. I remembered what Arlo said about the bond forcing our hand and felt sick. I didn’t—I wouldn’t—surely, I would have remembered if we—
Empty. The other side of the bed was empty. My frantic scan of the room showed the whole thing was empty.
I closed my eyes, pressing my fingers to my temples and trying to remember the night before. I felt wrong, foggy, and drunk. The effects of my shift lingering far longer than was normal.
I was no stranger to lost time, waking up from a state of numbness and barely knowing where I was.
This was different. I wasn’t supposed to feel this way, to let myself feel this. I searched inside for the switch, to bring the numbness back, to dull all of this.
I didn’t want to fucking feel anymore.
There was no switch to turn it off, but there was something. I reached for the techniques Arlo taught me, the ones meant to contain the parts of myself that wanted to rip free.
Breathe in four, hold for seven, exhale for eight.
I repeated it until my brain was oxygenated and my heartbeat was steady. Whatever I’d done, I would face it calmly.
I huffed, digging through the top drawer of my dresser, and fishing out a thermal. I forgot how cold it was in the mountains this time of year, and I hadn’t thought to turn the heater on when we arrived.
Hopefully Abby wasn’t cold last night.
Speaking of, where the hell was she? She was supposed to be sleeping in the bed I just woke up in. My bed . It made me unreasonably annoyed that she hadn’t been in there, wrapped in my sheets which would also wrap her in my scent.
She was mine, and she needed to smell like mine.
Anyway, I interrupted the thought, redirecting to something mundane the way Arlo had taught me. Breakfast was the first thing that came to mind so I considered what I could make with the small amount I had on hand. Usually, Levi and I brought a cooler of goods up here, only stopping at the outpost to throw a couple bucks at Silas for cheap beer and beef jerky.
Most of our meals would be eaten on the hunt so we didn’t worry about groceries. Somehow, I doubted Abby would welcome a mangled deer leg in place of regular food.
I barely had enough eggs for one breakfast for me, much less to feed her. I couldn’t live with myself if she went hungry up here.
Dammit ! I redirected again, thinking about the weather. I needed to boot my computer and check for weather warnings in case we got snowed in. That was the last thing I needed right now.
My very logical thoughts about the weather evaporated when I walked into the spacious kitchen and found Abby dressed in a blue sweater—her own this time—and standing on her tiptoes to reach the coffee on the top shelf of the walk-in pantry.
She was wearing those jeans that were more elastic than denim, hugging every round of her lush thighs. I stared, drooling from the corner of my mouth as her ass visibly jiggled with the effort.
I was still staring when she turned around, noticing me with a soft gasp before swiftly turning her gaze to the bag of French roast in her hands. Her eyes lingered there, cheeks pink, teeth worrying her bottom lips.
“I hope it’s okay that I’m—I was going to make coffee.”
There were dark circles under her eyes when she turned back to the counter, fiddling needlessly with the coffeemaker. She was so tense her shoulders were up to her ears and when I moved closer, she froze like a prey animal waiting to see if she’d been discovered.
Worry gnawed at my stomach, turning my appetite into nausea. Did I do something to her? Hurt her? Scare her? Touch her? I could almost remember her breath on my face, her eyes rounded and innocent as they peered at me from beneath her lashes.
Want. So much want. It was as potent and wild as I was, vicious in the way it drove me to her. To claim her.
But no matter how powerful my desire became, I would never cross a line that she didn’t want me to.
I wasn’t sure I could say the same about my wolf. He didn’t understand the delicacies of human intimacy. Didn’t understand why I wouldn’t just bite her already. She was mine and everyone needed to know about it.
I watched her move rigidly as she perused the counter and swallowed past a lump in my throat. “The cabinet in front of you, second shelf,” I said hoarsely, needing something to say but too afraid to ask what was really on my mind.
She glanced over her shoulder, frowning, but followed my instruction and found the coffee grinder she was searching for. “Thanks.”
The whir of the grinder was the only noise. I didn’t dare move closer into the kitchen. I didn’t want to scare her.
What have I done?
The coffeemaker was gurgling by the time she turned to face me. There was no fear in her expression, no dread, or horror. She looked sad, but there wasn’t an accusation. I exhaled, holding perfectly still as she completed her lengthy study of my face.
If she was a shifter, she never would have held my gaze for that long. Not unless she was a true alpha. Even for a human, that much eye contact made them uncomfortable. They never understood why they couldn’t look a dominant shifter in the face, only that it made them increasingly nervous until they found somewhere else to look.
Abby didn’t have that problem. She wouldn’t. Mates were the exception when it came to dominance. I could be the meanest, baddest alpha in the world and she would still be able to hold her own against me. Between the two of us, she was the one with all the power here.
Finally, she asked, “You really don’t remember what happens after you shift?”
“Uh, bits and pieces.” Fuck, I knew it. Stupid ass wolf still had too much control after the change. He did something to her. “It’s like when you wake up from a dream. There are fragments, but they get away from you.”
“Okay.” She nodded, coming to some sort of agreement with herself. “I’ll be ready to work after some coffee.”
“And breakfast,” I reminded her automatically, already thinking about the last time she skipped breakfast. Damn, why didn’t I pick up oranges on the way here?
“Right.” Her tone was polite. Distant.
The morning went on like that. I made eggs and instant oatmeal. Abigail accepted the food courteously and without fuss. She ate in silence. She washed her dishes in silence. She retrieved her work tablet from my bag and sat expectantly at the dining room table in silence.
I came to the cabin for silence. To escape the never-ending hum of traffic, the roar of airplanes coming and going, and the incessant chatter that humans couldn’t seem to stop themselves from making.
Now silence was the last thing I wanted. Hers felt weaponized, a blade digging painfully into my chest where I could feel the whispering presence of our incomplete bond, demanding that I do whatever was needed to make it right. My mate was unhappy, and it was my fault.
Even if it wasn’t my fault, I was a slave to her desires. Did a mated male even have his own will? Or was he merely a vessel for satisfying the whims of his female?
I grumbled to myself, returning to my bedroom closet, and digging out every cable and piece of tech I needed to get us online. Twenty minutes later I was propped in the seat beside her, laptop open, checking the weather. From here I could tap into my phone, so I did, making sure there wasn’t any urgent news about a client. I had seventeen missed calls from Levi and over a hundred text messages from the guys. I skimmed a few of them, seeing the words “kidnapping” and “Abby” enough times that I clicked away.
What I did with Abigail was none of their business. Though, I would admit I was relieved they were concerned with her wellbeing. My pack could keep her safe.
But they didn’t need to keep her safe from me.
Abby looked up from her screen, clearing her throat. “Your brother wants to know if I want him to come get me. He knows it was you that texted him.”
I turned my head too sharply. There was no use telling myself that Levi was an alpha checking on a member of his pack. It did nothing to make the jealousy go away.
“Should he?” I asked through clenched teeth.
“Are we friends, Gage?” she redirected the conversation, “or are we enemies?”
I held her gaze. “You were never my enemy, Abigail.”
“But I’m not your friend.”
“We can’t be friends,” I answered before I could think better of it.
She pressed her lips together, eyes falling to her hands on the keyboard of her tablet and staying there. Through the bond I felt a flicker of sadness.
Make it right. Say anything to make it right.
That would require me to tell her the full truth, though, and now was not the time. I had a lot of smoothing over to do before I could even consider it.
Was I actually considering it?
“I don’t trust you either, you know.” She was lying. I could feel that she was lying.
That made me feel worse, not better. I forced her to stay in my cold cabin with no food, accidentally booted her from the bed, pretended to have work for her, and she still trusted me. I didn’t deserve her trust.
“You shouldn’t.” I hadn’t earned it yet.
“Great. That’s reassuring.” She crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair. “Tell me what to do, boss .”
I bit my tongue, resisting the urge to ask a thousand questions about what she was thinking.
“Start here.” I handed her a piece of paper with a scribbled series of questions. “I need to know every single one of these details about Joseph Cargill.”