23

SUNDAY

Imaginary twigs broke under our feet as Noah and I walked away from Kingston. Kingston, who’d seen my wolf, proven she existed, and whose own beast called to mine like a siren lured sailors to the rocks. I hated how turned on I still was, how hard my nipples were under my bra. Noah didn’t say anything as we continued down the path together. His clenched jaw and stiff posture said it all for him. He was pissed.

“It was just a wolf thing, that’s all.” Using every ounce of strength I had, I kept my voice from wobbling. I’m not sure why I felt the need to explain myself. He was the one who pulled the disappearing act. I didn’t owe him a damn thing.

He stopped, turned those amber eyes on me, and raised one eyebrow. “A wolf thing.” Each word came out clear and slow. Like he was trying them on to see how they fit. “Did you like this wolf thing?”

How could I answer him truthfully and not be admitting something out loud I didn’t want to hear? “My wolf did.”