He stared at their hands, watching her fingers stroke his, the way they smoothed across his knuckles and the length of his thumb. He grabbed her hand, holding it securely in his. “If someone had you, I’d go after you,” he said. “My wolf wouldn’t let me give you up. Not without a fight.” His words were thick. “They never came.”
Olivia slid around the booth bench, pressing herself against his side. “They thought you were dead.”
“That’s bullshit. An easy answer,” he grumbled. “You’ll understand once you shift. Your wolf, my wolf—there’s a sort of sharing of thoughts and emotions—” He broke off. He wasn’t sure how it would be between them, or if he was ready to be vulnerable with her.
She was smiling at him. “You must hate that.”
He stared at her, reaching up to tuck one soft curl behind her ear. “I do.”
Hazel eyes, warm and searching, bored into him. The longer she stared, the more curious he became. “What are you thinking?” he asked softly.
“Are you sure you want to know?” Her answer was equally soft.
He arched a brow. “You’re not thinking about sex again?”
“I wasn’t.” Her cheeks flushed. “But thanks for taking me there again.”
“What were you thinking?” he asked, refusing to lose himself to thoughts of Olivia and sex.
She cleared her throat. “Part of me wants to run screaming from the diner—far away from all of this.” She swallowed. “I want my life back, without wolves, rules, bad guys chaining people in cells, being mauled by bears, and you. No matter how calm and sane you appear, there’s nothing sane about any of what you’re telling me.” She sucked in a deep breath. “I miss home. Television and takeout Chinese food, fuzzy slippers and naps and lousy roommates and unreliable brothers. I want boredom, security, and safety. The known. None of this.”
His wolf whimpered. “And the other part?”
“Wants to take away the hurt and anger in your heart.” She shrugged. “I want this bizarre connection between us to be real. Which is ridiculous. I’ve known you for, what, a few days? I’m still confusing simple human emotions—like lust for love. Even I know it’s not possible to fall in love over the span of a few days, so this you and me thing is all wolf. But it’s so intense.” She stopped. “Honestly, I still keep expecting to wake up.”
He wished she were dreaming. Then none of this would be real. He didn’t want to be here any more than she did. He didn’t want to be responsible for her, for any of this. And he sure as hell didn’t want to hear her say things like love, not to him. “You’re awake,” he mumbled. “So, pick one.”
“I didn’t think there was a choice,” she said, cradling her cup with both hands.
He looked at her. “If there was, what would you pick?”
She spun the cup slowly in her hands before meeting his gaze. The air grew heavy again, weighted by the magnetism of their connection. He was rooted there, waiting for her answer—terrified and hopeful.
The phone rang.
...
Olivia glanced at Mal. Whatever was being said on the telephone, he didn’t look happy. But, to be honest, he rarely looked happy. He was a master of the blank expression, with the occasional don’t-talk-to-me-or-I’ll-hurt-you glare thrown in. There was also the look of confusion she brought out in him…and the other look. The one that made the pit of her stomach warm and liquid and her toes curl and her lungs empty.
She shook her head, mulling over his question—which hadn’t been a real question. If this was real, all of it, of course she couldn’t leave. And, improbable as it was, she was beginning to believe that might be the case. She took a bracing sip of hot coffee—
An odd shiver shot up her spine, from her tailbone to the base of her skull, a flash of heat—a warning. The air around her seemed to ripple. A ripple. Something she’d never felt before, something that made her feel nauseated and uneasy. She stood, knocking the table and spilling her coffee onto the speckled laminate. Her gaze swept the room as she tugged her hood up. No one else was there. Not yet. Her gaze fixed on Mal as she made her way to him in the phone booth.
His expression made the hair on the back of her neck stand straight up. Tension rolled off of him, his posture ramrod stiff. “They’re here,” he said into the phone, pausing briefly. “Now.”
“Mal?” A whisper was all she could manage.
He pulled her against his side, easing her at once. “We’ll be there. Get her out of here. No matter what.” He hung up the phone, his gaze sweeping the room. “In the truck stop.” Grabbing her hand, he headed down the hall to the bathroom. He locked the door behind them, eyes narrowing as they inspected the window placed high in the wall. “Can you fit?” he asked.
She nodded, accepting his help as he gave her a boost. “Mal—”
“I’m right behind you,” he said, shoving her up. “Go.”
She didn’t want to, but somehow she was pushing the window wider and crawling out into the snow outside. The air was cold and clean, the ripple less pronounced. Breathing was easier, but there was nowhere to hide—and her gut told her to hide. The fluorescent exterior lighting seemed too bright, almost as if its sole purpose was to announce her presence. The urge to run grew, so that the sudden touch of Mal’s hand on her back made her jump.
“Stay calm, Olivia.” Mal grabbed her hand and tugged her behind him.
She was struck by how silently he moved. While she was shuffling along, tripping over her own feet, every footfall echoing, he crept between the semis on soundless feet, alert and ready for—she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.