Let the hunt begin.
Rafe
Five hours into Adele’s work day at the lodge, and it’s worse than I imagined.
First came her scent, stealing into my office, snaking around my desk, filling my space. Sweet and subtle, with a bite. There are no windows in my small work space—my office could double as a safe room—and nowhere for the scent to escape to. I can only breathe it in, breath after decadent breath.
Next, the murmuring waves of her voice and laugh. The sound is low and a little bit smoky. And with it comes the final invasion: the image of Adele’s heart-shaped face, crowding out all other thoughts. It’s so easy to imagine her swaying into my office, pushing into my space. She’d be dressed with her usual casual elegance—in a skirt or a dress, something easy to push up and out of the way. Her soft, dark curls down around her face. Her silvery brown skin and long lashes around her incredible eyes. Her face is perfect—how does she look so perfect all the time? She works so hard.
She came with lunch—a type of Italian sandwich called muffuletta. A home-made round of bread stuffed with a dozen layers of meat. Fucking delicious. I hunkered down in my office, pretending to be busy when really I was avoiding the kitchen. Deke brought me lunch on a plate. There was a parsley garnish and everything. The garnish smelled like her.
I ate the shit out of that garnish. First fucking time I ever ate parsley. No regrets.
She’s still here, in the kitchen, cooking. She’s been here for hours, working, and my wolf is going fucking crazy. He wants me to tear out of my office, head to the kitchen, and take a bite out of her.
Not. Gonna. Happen.
Why am I fantasizing about giving a human a mating bite? It’s bad enough Lance and Deke took mates. The bigger the pack gets, the harder it is to protect everyone in it.
For a moment, the white paper on my wooden desk blurs. A cabin in the woods, the door swaying open. My parents lying torn and still on the floor, surrounded by the violent spray of red.
A harsh tearing sound brings me back. The blank sheet of paper is in shreds.
I grab my phone and text Lance and hold my breath until he texts back. He’s fine, his mate is fine. The baby’s fine.
I’m going crazy with all these lives to protect.
I clear away the ruined strips of paper then check my messages again. Colonel Johnson ordered me not to contact him until he contacted me. The less we speak the better. I don't want to give our enemies a chance to trace our conversations.
We have a few local security jobs, but I cleared our work schedule to wait on news of when we could make a move on Dieter. It’s winter, and work is slow.
I log onto my computer, pay a few bills. Head down, stay focused. That’s what I gotta do.
Another loud laugh rings out and reaches my door. This time it’s Channing. At the first scent of food, he staked out in the kitchen. Even Deke found a reason to hang out nearby. And all afternoon they’ve been talking, telling jokes, making Adele feel at home. It shouldn’t bother me, but it does.
Channing better not be flirting with Adele. I can see him now, grinning like a dumbass at Adele, crowding close to her curvy little body...
The pen in my hand snaps, squirting ink everywhere. Fuck. I mop ink off my computer screen with my sleeve. Once the screen is clean, I tear off my stained Henley and toss it in the corner.
A creak in the hallway, and Deke sticks his head in. “Doin’ okay, Sarge?”
I grunt back. He nods, as if me sitting shirtless and surly behind my deck is nothing new. “Adele sent us to wash up. Dinner’s ready soon.”
I jerk my head in acknowledgement to get him to go away. When he’s gone, I sit for a moment, trying to get myself under control. I’m half naked. It’d be nothing to lope to the kitchen and snatch Adele from Channing. Toss her over my shoulder…
Can’t. Happen.
I yank open a desk drawer and take out a new Henley. I always have extra shirts and fatigues at hand. Shifters go through a lot of clothes.
I should skip this dinner. But my stomach growls. For the past hour, I’ve been smelling the spicy scent of something delicious simmering on the stove.
It should be fine. It's not like I want to mark this female. But something about her drives my wolf crazy. My wolf wants me to hunt her, claim her. Take her to bed. Or something. He’s never acted like this before.
Since I saw her, I’ve been fighting the compulsion to be near her. There’s no reason for me to be fascinated, and yet I am. She has an elegant presence, but really, she’s petite. Her head barely comes to my chin. She’s human. Breakable. And yet she stands up to me like an alpha wolf. Always challenging me. She meets my eyes in challenge and can hold my gaze longer than any other human in my life.
It makes my wolf crazy and me hard as a rock all at the same time. I already jerked off thinking of her last night. And now she’s right where I want her, in my home. It’d be so easy to scoop her up and carry her up to my bedroom...
No. I push away from the desk. I will not be bested by this. I will be on my best behavior.
Maybe I can get a run in before I have to sit down and watch her smile at the rest of my pack...
“Dinner’s almost ready!” Adele cries. “Everyone come to the table!”
A minute later, I’m sitting at the head of the table with Deke and Channing on either side, and Adele’s at the foot.
It’s important that packs eat together regularly. Pack is family, and my fellow wolves are closer than brothers. It’s only the three of us here today, but three shifters can eat enough to feed a platoon. If Adele doesn’t understand that now, she will by the end of the meal.
Adele’s in the kitchen, wearing an apron over her fancy clothes. She’s got high heels and a polka dot dress on, and damn if she doesn’t look like some sexy 50s housewife.
“Just give me a minute,” she calls from her place at the stove. She’s got a ladle and is stirring the contents of the biggest stew pot I’ve ever seen.
“Take all the time you need,” Channing says. “Can’t rush perfection.”
Suck up.
Channing catches my glower and drops his eyes to his plate. Across from him, Deke is carefully silent, staring at his own empty plate. I feel like the stern patriarch of the most fucked up nuclear family ever.
Adele doesn’t notice the sudden silence. “I told you, you didn’t have to set a place for me.” As she leans over the stove, a dark brown curl falls in her face, and she tucks it behind her ear. She tastes a little out of the ladle and licks her plush lips.
And now I’m hard as a board. I shift my weight in my chair, but nothing makes me more comfortable. “You need to eat.” My voice comes out harsh. I need to get control of myself. Adele will think I’m an asshole.
Of course, she probably already does.
Adele acts like I didn’t even speak. “I meant to ask, where did you find that beautiful art sculpture?” She points to the coffee table where Channing must have set the crumpled trash can down. “It kinda looks like artsy metal work.”
“Rafe made it.” Channing smiles, so his dimple flashes.
“Really?” Adele turns to me with an exaggerated look of surprise. She flutters her long lashes and widens her eyes. “I wouldn't have guessed you had such artistic talent.”