Page 123 of The Werewolf’s Wrong Mate

Instead, I told the truth.

“I will ignore it,” I said. “But I will not pretend I didn’t feel it.”

Her breath left her.

Sava made a pointed sound behind us. “Food. Rest. Terrible emotional decisions later.”

Cassie closed her eyes. “I hate that she’s sensible.” I stood before I made a worse choice. Before I touched her. Before I let myself want where she could feel it.

“I will get the tray,” I said.

Cassie opened one eye. “You fetch food too?”

“Yes.”

“Very full-service prison.”

“It is a terrible prison.”

“The worst I’ve attended.”

I didn’t smile but something in me eased.

When I left the study, the mark pulled softly, as if it disliked even that small distance. This time, Cassie felt it too. She looked down at her bandaged shoulder, then at me.

Neither of us said anything.

Two nights until the hunt. And every hour between them had just become dangerous in a new way.

Chapter 16:

A Practical Exercise in Bad Ideas

Cassie

Ian brought food like a man prepared to negotiate with a hostage, a patient, and a wild animal at the same time.

Technically, I was two of those things.

Possibly all three by the end of the week.

He set the tray on the table beside the bed and stepped back before I could accuse him of hovering. Soup, bread, sliced fruit, tea, and a small square of chocolate cake sat arranged on a white plate as if the kitchen had decided my death countdown needed garnish.

I looked at the cake, then at Ian. “Did Sava approve this?”

“No.”

“Did you steal it?”

“Yes.”

That was the first time all day I came close to smiling on purpose. Ian’s face didn’t change, but the mark warmed beneath my bandage.

I looked down at my shoulder. The warmth faded as soon as I noticed it too closely.

Annoying.

Everything about this bond was annoying. Even the parts that were starting to feel less awful. Especially those.