Page 15 of Chaos At Second Sight

Warmth bombarded my chest, enough to save on heating bills for an entire Scottish winter.

“You’re so caring.” My arms wrapped around his waist, my chin perching on his chest as I looked up at him. “But I can do it. I take ice baths. Good for she-wolf blood circulation, as long as I’m not menstruating.”

“Mate can’t bathe. Too cold. Too dangerous.” He set me down five big steps farther from the shore.

“But I need to wash! The last time I showered was yesterday morning!”

“No.”

End of the discussion.

Maybe it was the stiff posture. Maybe it was the crossed arms. Maybe it was the puffed fur around his neck. Whatever the reason, I burst out laughing.

“Aww, Lucien, you’re adorable.”

His frown deepened. “Lucien not adorable.”

My grin widened further. “Yes, you are.” I pinched what passed for his cheeks—the short, trimmed fur stretched over his muscles.

Yes, he had alarming quantities everywhere.

“I’ve been swimming in lochs since I was a pup. Trust me, there’s nothing dangerous in there.” I pointed toward the water. “You don’t believe in the Loch Ness Monster, do you?”

Lucien bared his fangs, looking at me despondently.

“Go catch us some rabbits for breakfast while I do a few laps.”

His nose scrunched. “Lucien no like rabbits.”

“Why?”

He grimaced. “Too many bones. Little meat. Bleh!”

After a pause, he launched into a detailed warning about lake weeds grabbing my legs and dragging me away. When he finally paused for breath, I clasped my hands together. “Please, Lucien? For me?”

His eyes narrowed. I widened mine. And he relented with an inevitable huff.

Alpha or omega, lycan or werewolf, it didn’t matter—no one in the history of our species had ever resisted the devastating combo of please, big eyes, and strategic eyelash fluttering from their mate.

It was written in our DNA.

Backstroking, my body was almost obscured by the murky water as my hair floated around my face, playing with the long algae curiously reaching out from underneath me. A shape, like a hyphen in the air above the glen, caught my attention, but rather than stopping and freezing with hypothermia while squinting at it, I kept moving. A buzzard? A hawk? A second black hyphen joined the first above the crest of the hill.

Spending time with my mate was refreshing, and not just because of the climate. It was a balm for my soul. A caress for my heart.

I chuckled aloud, sputtering some water with it, thinking of how Lucien had swum around the lake before letting me go in. Probably scaring the fish to death and searching for imaginary dangers. Then he went who-knows-where to hunt who knows what. I still remembered how the fir treetops shook at his passage.

My mind focused on nothing but the rhythm of my strokes, the sound of the water, the smell of home, the feeling of a moment that was only now and never would be again, the peace surrounding me, and the smell of heathers. Heathers reminded me of Mom. Back then, she wove flower collars for the wild wolves visiting the pack, before she and my uncles brought us hunting.

I dove down, touched the rocky bottom, and found myself thinking about Logan. Unreadable, just like a lake. You saw what was on the surface but had no idea what was underneath. Lucien was one of the things he hid well. What else?

Things would be okay. After all, we were mates. Almost all the mated couples I knew were happy, so why wouldn’t we be? The odds weren’t against us, right?

I tried to swim the full length of the loch but couldn’t manage without my lungs burning; a toss of my head above the surface got the hair and most of the water out of my eyes.

Having spent enough time freezing for today, I decided to dry off quickly with my shirt and get dressed in yesterday’s clothes. Years of camping in the woods made me resilient, especially knowing I would head back to the MacKenzies soon.

As I was trying to untangle my hair from knots and a squishy leaf that somehow had managed to burrow into the strands, the bushes shook. Lucien marched out. Every time I looked at him, something inside me lunged toward him, like my heart had grown hands and was dragging me by the ribs to him.