Page 39 of Big Bad Wolf

That seems to settle something in him. The tension in his broad shoulders eases, his grip in my hair loosening just enough for his hand to slide down so that he can curl his claws around my neck, cupping the back of it as he holds me close.

But not trapping me.

Never trapping me.

Not anymore.

I pull away from my tall mate enough to catch as much of his gaze as I can. I tap his chest lightly. “Now focus. The bears.”

His expression immediately darkens. “There are three on their territory,” he says, like it’s a warning. Like he thinks that’s enough to stop me. “They’re big, Red. All male.”

“Big male, huh? I’ve handled worse,” I tease.

Wolf’s hand slips under my cloak, finding my waist. “They will not touch you,” he vows.

“I know.” I glance up at Wolf, giving him a crooked smile. “That’s kind of the point if they have a mate of their own. I don’t think they’ll want to.”

I can’t imagine having three mates, but Wolf assures me that, in Blackmoor, many of the beasts will share—except for him. He made it clear he won’t, and I believe him. And, okay, if on the very odd chance that the woman is Goldie, I’ve got to know how it works to have that many mates. Even if it isn’t Goldie, I’m still curious, though I decide not to mention that when it seems like Wolf is getting ready to give in

I knew he would. Pick my battles, right? I have to do this, and if I really push it, Wolf will let me.

He studies me for a moment, clearly not convinced, but when I take one of his hands and tug on it instead of his tail, he follows me to the door without hesitation.

He always does.

I lace my fingers through his, giving his hand a squeeze. “Come on, my big, bad wolf. Let’s go meet the neighbors.”

Wolf warned me that the trip from our territory toward the corner of the woods where the bears live is close to half a days’ walk away. Though I suspected he might’ve been exaggerating—and he knows that I’m no more fond of exercising now than I was when I first walked into the forest four years ago—it’s quite a hike.

The storm doesn’t help, either. I’m grateful for my cloak, for my boots, for my gloves because, otherwise, I would’ve turned around and warmed up in front of the fire. Only knowing that my chances of getting Wolf to agree for a second time to leading me to the bears’ cabin are as good as sleeping through the night without my mate curling up around me in our nest has me trudging forward.

The snow doesn’t bother Wolf. The pair of linen trousers he wears are the only concession to decency that he’ll give me, though I know he only tugs them on for my sake and not because he cares if he’s naked whether he’s in his fur or his skin. That very same fur keeps him warm, and he huddles me close, sharing that heat with me as he guides me through the consistent flurries.

Though the flakes aren’t very big, the accumulation gets deeper the farther we walk. It crunches beneath my boots, the only sound that carries as we move through the night. Even the wind seems to go quiet as we cross some invisible line that has me gasping and Wolf’s hackles rising.

“Here,” he says, rumbling softly as he pulls me closer against him. “Bear territory. They’ll know we’re coming.”

From under my hood, I peer through the snow. “Where is their cabin?”

“Not far. Do you still want to go? I can bring Red home. Forget the bears.”

It’s not about the bears. It’s about the golden-haired woman that… I don’t know. Maybe it’s wishful thinking. Maybe it’s because I’ve fully become acclimated to life in Blackmoor and I truly believe in magic.

It has to be her.

It has to be.

I find Wolf’s arm, rubbing my thumb over the corded muscle there. “Please, Wolf.”

He jerks his head, the furry tufts on the points of his ears twitching slightly as he listens for something that my human ears will never hear. “Stay close. They will not appreciate our visit.”

I’m not worried. If it turns out that this was a bad idea, I have no doubt in my mind that Wolf will lift me up and carry me away before the bears can even decide to attack.

As though he can tell what I’m thinking, my mate angles his body just enough to keep himself between me and the dark stretch of forest ahead of us. Forever protective, his body is hunched, his breathing slow, his every instinct ready to protect his Red.

Together, we walk until the trees finally begin to thin, giving way to a small clearing—and a two-floor wooden cabin built in the center of it. Warm light spills from the windows, glowing against the snow. They must have their own fire going inside.

I shiver, from the chill in the air and the anticipation coursing through me.