Chapter 9
SOPHIE
The room the grumpy wolf put her in was about as far from a dungeon as you could get.
The big four-poster bed with the fluffiest light blue duvet she’d ever seen and a ton of pillows made her want to belly-flop onto it then wrap herself up like a cozy burrito.
Matching end tables with crystal lamps flanked it.
Luxurious silk drapes of dark blue framed a pair of tall, double-paned windows.
She wandered around the room, touching the rich fabrics and admiring the stunning oil paintings of majestic wolves playing with their young and running through ancient woods that hung on pale ecru walls.
A pair of delicate chairs, their seats embroidered with wildflowers, sat in front of a window.
Her luggage sat beside a large wardrobe to the right.
It was by far the fanciest room she’d ever set foot in and damned if she wasn’t going to enjoy herself.
After all, when would she get another chance to spend the night in a freakin’ castle?
Plus, Bryn was telling her about the shifter highland games they held on the grounds.
She wanted to go. Maybe now that Torin had decided she needed protection, she could.
An effervescent wave of excitement bubbled up in her chest, dulling the sense of doom crushing her since receiving that note.
How in the hell did her stalker find her? She shook her head and blew out a hard breath. However, he ended up in Wolfcraig, he’d regret it. Torin would make sure of it. She certainly wouldn’t want to be her stalker when that pissed-off wolf got a hold of him.
A knock sounded. “Speak of the devil and he will appear,” she grumbled, nervously rubbing her hands together. She noticed what she was doing and slid them into her back pockets instead.
“Still annoyed with me, I see,” Torin said, leaning in the doorway. “Perhaps I might tempt you with dinner? Would food make you more amiable?”
“Possibly.” She chewed the inside of her cheek, her gaze skating over his well-muscled form.
He wore another knit sweater, this one a forest green that brought out the color in his hazel eyes.
His sleeves were pushed up, baring his forearms. A curl of heat ignited in her belly.
What was it about a man’s bared forearm that made her skin flush and her heart beat faster?
Especially this man’s. It was unfair how tempting he looked, a wave of silver-streaked hair flopping over an eyebrow.
Damned right she was hungry, but it wasn’t for dinner. “Will there be dessert?”
A small smile played at the corner of his lips. “There could be, if that would make you happy.”
Her heart went pitter-patter at that smile.
How could she be so drawn to someone she’d met a week ago?
Usually, she required a decent amount of time to get to know someone, to build a deeper connection with a man before she welcomed him into her bed, but…
damn. She squeezed her thighs together. “Then, yes. Dinner sounds good.”
He gave her a wolfish grin, pushed off the doorframe, and offered her an arm.
She eyed it. “Why are you being nice to me? I thought you were eager to get rid of me, but here you are, escorting me to dinner.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Didn’t take you for a fickle man.” She placed her hand on his bare forearm, his skin warm beneath her fingertips. His muscles flexed, and she had to take a moment to gather herself. Stupid hormones.
“I’m a wolf shifter,” he growled. He led her to a private dining room on the second floor with wood paneling and deep red silk wallpaper that seemed to glow in the low, warm lighting of the wall sconces. In the center was a round table set for two. “We are not fickle.”
She snorted. “Okay.”
His muscles tensed, and he shot her a look. “You doubt me?”
“I would never,” she said, sarcasm dripping from those three words.
She resisted clutching her throat and gasping before she said that.
No need to go overboard, though she did enjoy teasing him.
He was too serious. The man needed to loosen up.
“But you’re the one who got all growly about me daring to step foot in your territory, and now here I am, in your home. ”
He harrumphed.
“And you’re about to feed me.” She cocked her head.
“Isn’t food a big thing for shifters? The bear shifters in my area are pretty fanatical about their food, especially when it comes to feeding those they love.
” Her heart hiccuped when she said the word, but that was foolish.
There was no way he loved her or anything, because that would be ridiculous.
Right? They’d known each other such a short time and, despite two of her friends falling for their partners within days, she did not believe in insta-love.
He froze for a second before pulling out a chair for her. She wouldn’t have even noticed it if she hadn’t been so focused on him. “Yes, food is a big deal among our kind. But I’m feeding you because I took you from your home before you had your supper and thought you might be hungry.”
As if on cue, her stomach growled. “Turns out I am,” she said with a self-deprecating huff of laughter.
And she wouldn’t mind someone feeding her.
Not having a car of her own, she’d been making her own meals all week with the groceries she’d picked up in town before Bryn brought her up to the cottage.
“Good.” He sent a text before shoving the phone back into his pocket.
A minute later, the dumbwaiter tucked behind a large painting of a lake rumbled to life.
Giving her a wink, he pulled out two plates and set them on the gold-rimmed chargers.
“Steak and potatoes. The asparagus is from our kitchen garden, all of it cooked especially for you by one of the best chefs in the Highlands.”
She was happy she was sitting down because that rumbly accent of his licked up her spine and made her weak in the knees.
Leaning close, he poured her some red wine before sitting down and raising his glass. “Sláinte.”
“Sláinte.” The crystal chimed as their glasses kissed. She took a sip. “Ooh, I’m more of a beer girl, but this is yummy.”
“I can get you a beer if you prefer.”
“No, this is great, thanks.” She cut into her steak.
A nice sear with the perfect amount of pink inside.
She let out a moan as the flavor exploded over her tastebuds.
It took all her willpower not to shovel the delicious meal that she didn’t have to cook into her mouth.
She looked up to see Torin staring at her, his potato-filled fork frozen halfway to his mouth.
Her cheeks warmed. Clearing her throat, she said, “Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?”
“I was never mean to you,” he protested.
She laughed. “You were a jerk, all growly and mean, stomping around as you loudly declared how outsiders like me weren’t welcome in your territory.”
“I didn’t stomp.” He looked offended. It was adorable.
“You absolutely did.” She took a big sip, draining most of the glass. Her body flushed as the alcohol hit her system. “And what was with the weird silent treatment the first time we met, huh? It was a kiss-and-run.”
He shoveled a large forkful into his mouth and chewed, his eyes narrowing as his jaw worked.
It might be the wine talking, but her mouth seemed to have a mind of its own, a week’s worth of frustrations spewing forth.
“Oh, you don’t like me asking you to justify your behavior?
I know you said you brought me here to protect me from my stalker, but this feels like something more than just keeping me safe. What the hell is going on, Torin?”
Setting his fork down, he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he stared her down.
She glared back at him, refusing to look away as she picked up the bottle and refilled her glass.
He growled out a long sigh. “You’re my mate.”
Holy shit. She set the bottle down a little too firmly, rattling the dishes on the table. “What? I’m your what?”