26
Sable
The sun is setting over the mountains, already casting a purple twilight over the cabin.
It’s hunting time.
Since Dare’s arrival at the cabin nine days ago, he’s joined the hunting party every night. I get the sense that he likes spending time as a wolf, that he needs it, almost. A break from the stresses and strains of being a human, I guess. I don’t know.
Archer gives me a sweet kiss on the cheek, and Trystan taps my nose with his finger, grinning at the way I scrunch up my face at him. Dare’s gaze lingers on me before he joins the other two in the yard.
“Don’t be gone too long,” I say.
“We’ll be back before you know it,” Trystan promises, before giving me a wicked smile and shoving his shorts to his ankles.
A hot flush rises in my neck, and I fight the urge to fan myself as all three men disrobe in the front yard. Before I can fall into the trap of looking at things I shouldn’t be, they shimmer with the magic of the change. A moment later, three large wolves dash off into the forest to find dinner.
I’ve started to love watching them shift, but in the same breath, I feel… envious. Shifting is this beautiful, magical thing that seems incredibly out of my reach.
I find Ridge in the kitchen, chopping carrots o
n a beat-up cutting board while a pot of water boils on the wood stove. I love watching him cook. Where Archer is lively and talkative about cooking, Ridge goes silent and contemplative, working with an impressive precision. The two of them have made every meal a delicious experience.
His posture shifts a little as soon as I walk into the room, the same way it always does. These men are so attuned to me that it sometimes feels like they’re attached to me somehow, like some kind of invisible cord connects us at all times.
He glances over his shoulder with an easy smile and points at the counter behind me. “Want to cut potatoes?”
“Sure.” I grab the mesh bag he’s indicated and carry it across the kitchen to his side. There’s only one cutting board, but luckily it’s a big one, so I grab another knife and set to work halving the potatoes to throw in the pot. I don’t mind being so close to him. In fact, I love it. I crave it.
The need to be near them has grown from a subtle impulse to an undeniable, constant pull over the course of our time here, and I’ve given up fighting it.
They’re all careful to avoid pushing me too far—even Dare, although I feel the memories of our first meeting hovering over nearly every interaction we have—so I haven’t kissed any of them since the day Trystan pressed his lips to mine in this very kitchen.
But they let me touch them all I like. They encourage it even, and I can practically feel how it soothes them the same way it soothes me.
It awakens something in me too. A heat and a need that refuses to be satisfied with little touches and chaste kisses.
That feeling still isn’t drawing me toward one of the men over the others though, and it’s starting to make me question my willpower and my sanity.
They told me. These men and the elders—they all told me that my wolf would choose.
So why hasn’t she?
Where is she?
Those thoughts swirl through my head as I work beside Ridge. Our elbows touch as we chop, and I can feel the warmth rolling off his skin.
We continue our dinner prep in silence for a few minutes, though he keeps shooting glances at me, his brow furrowed. He always seems to know when something’s weighing on me. I don’t know if I’m just that easy to read, or if Ridge has a stronger intuition than anyone I’ve ever met.
Finally, he asks, “What’s wrong?”
“How do you know something’s wrong?” I toss two halves of a potato into the pot of water with a soft splash.
He puts down his knife and turns to face me, one eyebrow lifting. “Is there not?”
Letting out a sigh, I put my own knife down and shrug. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just worried the elder was wrong.”
“About what exactly?” Ridge steps closer, reaching out to squeeze my hand.