Page 125 of Freed By the Witchbone Knife

“Aye. Hard to believe. But, Blackthorn was a master manipulator. Got inside her head.”

“She’s in love with you,” I said quietly.

Axel’s expression darkened. “She was obsessed. There’s a difference. And she put you in danger because of it.” He turned back to clean the pan. “She’ll face charges. The sheriff will want to talk to you, get your statement. You’ll have to dance around the truth a bit. But there’s no rush. When you’re ready.”

I stared down at the plate of food. Perfect, as always. He’d taken care of everything. The body. The police. Me.

“Eat,” he said gruffly.

I picked up the fork, taking a bite. The eggs were fluffy, seasoned perfectly. Delicious. But I could barely taste it over the tightness in my throat.

“What happens now?” I asked.

Axel turned away, busying himself with wiping down the counter. “Now you go back to your life. I can drive you and the little snacks back to your bungalow this afternoon, whenever you’re ready.”

My fork stopped halfway to my mouth. “What?”

“Blackthorn’s gone. Iris is in custody. You’re safe.” He still wouldn’t look at me. “You have your magic back. Your curse is broken. You can go back to living your life.”

The air left my lungs. “Axel, I am living my life.”

“Aye.” His voice was carefully neutral. “But you should do it at home—your home.”

I set down my fork slowly. “And if I don’t want to?” That made him pause. His shoulders went rigid, his hands gripping the edge of the counter. “If I want to stay? Here? With you?”

“Rebecca.” My name sounded like a warning. Like a prayer. I wasn’t quite sure which. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Don’t I?” I stood, moving around the island. “I’m saying I want to stay. That I’m happy here. That I⁠—“

“You’ve just gotten your magic back.” He whirled to face me, his eyes flashing yellow. “You haven’t even used it yet. Haven’t seen what you can do now. Once you do, once you realize your potential⁠—“

“I’ll what? Suddenly not want this anymore?” I gestured around us. “Not want you?”

His jaw clenched. “You’ll want a real life.”

“This is my real life.” I stepped closer. “This cabin. Teaching at the college. You. The bunnies sleeping on your lap while you read. This is what I want.”

“You’re not thinking clearly.” But there was desperation creeping into his voice now. “You’ve been through trauma. Yesterday⁠—“

“I’m thinking perfectly fucking clearly.” Anger crept into my voice. Because damn him. This stubborn male. “I want to pay out my lease on the bungalow. Move the rest of my things here. Stay.”

“No.” The word came out strangled.

“No?!” I was close enough to touch him now.

“Because eventually you’ll wake up and realize you settled. That you gave up your freedom, your potential, your whole future for a broken werewolf hiding in the woods. And you’ll resent me for it.”

The raw vulnerability in his voice made my chest ache.

“You’ll want more than this.” His hand swept out, encompassing the cabin. “More than I can give you. And I won’t—“ His voice cracked. “I won’t watch you grow to hate this. Hate me.”

I reached for him, but he stepped back.

“You should finish eating. Pack your things. I’ll drive you back to town this afternoon.”

“No.”

His eyes narrowed. “No?”