I wrap my hands around the mug, letting the warmth sink into my fingers. I should drink. I should calm down.
Instead, I stare at him.
He’s bigger in here. Not because the cabin is small, but because he feels like the only solid thing in it. The scar through his brow looks rougher in the firelight. His cut hangs open. His forearms are thick, tattooed, hands relaxed on his knees like he’s holding back by choice.
He watches me watching him.
The silence stretches.
My heart keeps tripping over itself.
I clear my throat. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Do what?”
“In the bar. With that… man.”
His eyes go darker. “You asked.”
“I know.” My voice cracks, and I hate it. “I just… I don’t want trouble for you.”
He leans back slightly, gaze steady on my face. “Trouble came in the door when he did.”
I swallow. The tea smells like chamomile and honey. Safe things. Things that don’t belong in the same night as threats and agreements and being claimed in public.
I take a sip anyway. It’s sweet. Warm.
It makes my eyes sting.
Wolf notices. His jaw tightens.
I look away quickly, embarrassed.
I’m about to say something normal. Something safe.
Instead, jealousy slips out of me like it has teeth.
“Do you bring all girls here?” I ask.
The question is quiet. Shaky. Pathetic.
The second it leaves my mouth, I want to crawl under the couch.
Because why do I care?
Because I have no right to care.
Because I met him tonight, and I’m already acting like something belongs to me when I’m the one who asked for pretend.
Wolf goes still.
The fire crackles in the pause.
I force myself to look at him, and my cheeks burn hotter when I see his expression.
Surprise first. Then something else, slower.
Not amusement.
