If she were human, I would take her to a hospital to make sure she isn’t dying, but since she’s a wolf, I hold her in the rental car until she slips into unconsciousness, then take her to the nearby cabin I rented for the week.
She sleeps on the couch, her face peaceful, her breath slow. I crouch beside her, staring at her lovely visage.
She’s like a china doll. Perfect, smooth skin–too pale to be healthy. Long, dark lashes that fan in delicate feathers along her closed lids. She wears no makeup, and she’s in the same thin white shift she was wearing in the dream I had with her.
The one where she warned me I would have to pick a side before the war came.
I assume she meant a war between packs.
But I don’t know why she would think I’d be involved. That war has never been mine. I’m not a Blackthroat. I’m certainly not an Adalwulf, even if my mother is Moonborn. I have no allegiance to either pack.
I’d finally forced myself away from my fascinated study of her to cook dinner. She looks underfed, and after the fits she had, she’ll need her strength back.
Logic dictates I should tie her up. She’s my prisoner, after all. But nothing in me could make me do it. Nothing in me wants to do anything but brush the backs of my fingers along her cheek to see if it’s really as soft and smooth as it appears. So I do. Just once, just to see.
And it is.
But instead of focusing on her beauty, I should be formulating a plan. I have Brick Blackthroat breathing down my neck over the tiara heist.
I just stole the Adalwulf’s biggest prize. If the Adalwulfs decide the Blackthroats are behind her kidnapping, I could’ve triggered a war. And more than that, I have a slender, lovely but powerful she-wolf sleeping on my couch and no plan for how I’m going to keep her from running away.
Aster
The scent of steak wakes me. If the smell didn’t pull me from unconsciousness, the sound of my stomach growling would have. I feel fuzzy but comfortable. A fire crackles nearby, sending sweet, sweet heat to warm me through. I’m so relaxed and cozy, I’m definitely not in the tower.
But where am I?
I crack my eyes. I’m lying on a couch of faded blue fabric. Someone covered me with a soft, gray blanket. I’m so comfortable, I don’t want to move, but I make myself sit up a bit and look around.
I’m in a fire-lit room that looks like a cabin of some sort, with walls of knotty pine. There’s a small window framed by blue curtains to my right and a braided blue and brown rug on the floor, pitted with a few sooty black stains.
Behind me is a tiny kitchen area with wood cabinets and a small round table between two chairs. Everything is made of the same knotty pine–as if whoever built the cabin used the leftovers to decorate.
The door is across the room. Even as I spot it, a man comes to stand beside me. It’s him, the wolf who carried me through the tunnel.
The wolf who held me in the elevator.
The wolf from my dreams. Noah.
“Welcome back, Aster.”
He knows my name, too.
The firelight gilds his hair, picking out the golden streaks in the blond. He smells familiar, like warm amber and pine. My nose tells me I’m alone with him.
“Where am I? What time is it?” It’s dark outside.
“A little before eight. You passed out after your seizure and stayed asleep the whole way here. I let you sleep. I think you needed it.” There’s the shadow of a smile hovering around his mouth.
I swallow. He kidnapped me. I shouldn’t feel so relaxed. “I need to go to the bathroom.” I do, but I also want a moment alone to buy some time. I want to see how long a leash I have.
“It’s there.” Noah nods to a door near the kitchen. “Through the bedroom.”
My insides knot at the mention of a bedroom. Who is this wolf? What does he want with me?
Automatically, I glance at the front door, the closest exit. It’s a mistake because Noah catches it.
“Don’t try to run.” His expression turns serious. “I’ll catch you.” His eyes glitter with a golden light.
