The wind catches the door, and it swings open with a creak. I jump at the sound, but Noah still has his back to the cabin, and he can’t hear me.
This is my chance. I don’t think, I don’t hesitate. I just run.
Chapter Eleven
Noah
I race after Aster, following the trail of broken branches and her small, hurried footprints in the mud.
I don’t need to hear her. Wolves track by scent, and Aster’s is a sweet perfume laid out before me like a highway a mile wide. If I had to, I’d follow it forever.
Catch her! My wolf urges me. He’s enjoying the chase. He thinks this is wolf courtship, where she runs, and I chase.
Where there’s a juicy reward when I catch her.
I speed up, following the flash of white-blonde hair disappearing between the aspens. I catch up to her in no time.
She’s weak. It’s not a fair match.
I slow down, one part of me enjoying the fuck out of the flash of her long, bare legs under my flannel, the other part pissed that she might be cold. Or that she was so desperate, she thought she had to run without putting on shoes.
I could let her run and tire herself out, but then she stumbles and slips in the mud, and my protective instincts take over. I launch through the air to grab her, carrying us both off balance enough that we go crashing down into the mud.
I make sure I break her fall then roll to pin her beneath me. She thrashes, fighting me, even though it’s futile.
I pin her wrists to the soft earth beside her head. I don’t want to hurt her, but I am pissed that she ran. I thought we had a connection. We do have a connection–the visions.
Did I do something to spook her?
You held her prisoner, my wolf reminds me.
Well, yes. There’s that. But still. We had a vibe.
“Stop,” I command, and feel her body freeze in response to my dominance. I must’ve thrown alpha command into my voice.
I didn’t know I could do that.
We’re covered in mud, and I can smell iron, which means she’s bleeding. The scent makes my wolf howl.
I stare down at her–my lovely captive. Her blue eyes are wide and round. Mud coats one side of her cheek. I want to kiss her again.
Desperately.
She’s panting, her chest rising and falling quickly. Her hair–still wet from the shower–is now covered with wet leaves and dirt.
Kiss her, my wolf urges.
I can’t. She doesn’t want that. Plus, I promised I wouldn’t do it again.
Fuck. Her nipples peak the flannel of my shirt like she’s turned on.
Claim her.
Definitely not.
Except my hands don’t obey my mind. I grasp the edges of the flannel shirt and yank it open, sending the buttons flying in all directions.
Aster gasps.
