Page 41 of Freed By the Witchbone Knife

Why would she accept a scarred, half mad wolf close to breaking? How many years did he have left, anyway? In no universe would it be fair to tie her to him, only to leave her when his mind finally broke.

His chest squeezed. A new fear dousing him in ice. Could he harm her?

No, surely not. She was his mate. She calmed him—just her mere presence.

If anything, he was safer to be around than he’d ever been. Which meant, if he kept her around, perhaps he could exist peacefully for just a little longer.

Until she broke her curse.

Then she would leave. Leave him. Move on with her life. Be happy, healthy, whole.

There wouldn’t be a place for him in it. Not when his existence and ultimately his deterioration would simply leave her heartbroken. He couldn’t do that to her.

Besides, there was one other matter. Something he knew with certainty: if he told her and she rejected him, the final tethers holding his sanity in check would break. There would be no coming back from that madness. Not when he was already walking a tightrope.

Which meant, she couldn’t know.

An hour later, he was behind the wheel, Rebecca’s calming scent surrounding him. Despite the inner battle playing out inside him, he relished her closeness. In the way her existence, her proximity, put him at ease.

“Make sure you text me if there are any problems,” she was saying.

“There won’t be any problems,” he said, forcing himself to focus.

“They’re bunnies. There’s always problems.”

“Rebecca,” he growled. “I’m a competent male. I can handle a couple of appetizers.”

“Oh my, God. They are not for eating, Axel.” He pressed his lips together to keep them from twitching. “Not as appetizers. Not as little snacks. Not as entrees. Not at all.”

“Yes. Yes. So you said.”

“Go catch a wild rabbit in the woods if you must.”

He lifted his brows.

“But definitely don’t tell me about it. I don’t need to know about your…harming of the wildlife.”

“I’m a wolf. It’s nature.”

She sighed.

After her shower, she’d appeared dressed in a long flowing tartan skirt that skimmed her ankles. It was torture, how much he liked the fabric on her, the way it reminded him of his homeland in Scotland. She’d paired it with dark brown boots that came just above her ankles, and a beige sweater that tucked in and draped off one shoulder. Her hair was lightly curled and secured with a bow at the base of her neck.

He’d positioned himself behind the island so she wouldn’t see his raging hard on.

It’s like a switch had flipped in his brain.

Yes, he’d found her incredibly attractive. Yes, he had inexplicably gravitated towards her for weeks. But now that he knew what she was, it’s like the realization had rearranged every atom in his body.

And his body?

It wanted one thing.

To be balls deep in this woman, rutting her with her hair in his fist while she made little moaning noises like the one from last night when she’d eaten the dinner he’d prepared for her. Which reminded him. He needed to put together a list of foods. Meals he could cook her. Things she would like. He couldn’t wait to see her reaction to every single one. The sounds she’d make. Maybe he could get more of them.

“Axel?”

“Hmm?”