Page 9

And yet, what the alpha wolf said made sense, made me think, made me question things.

Why exactly were we fighting? Killing each other?

Was I tired of it?

Good question. One that kept me tossing and turning while I lay awake on the bedding he had graciously given me. Did he have any up in the loft, or had he given up all comfort and warmth for me?

He went up there knowing I had a knife. He hadn’t attempted to wrestle it from me. I could slip up there at any second with the knife and my basket and use my weapons to finish him off. Like I was sent here to do.

Yet I hadn’t even followed the basic first step by running the verifications.

Perhaps he wasn’t even the alpha I’d been sent here to eliminate, but a decoy.

A decoy for what? To interfere with my mission?

If so, he was a damn good one.

And he had papers. I still hadn’t looked in the file. After all, it could all be fabrications, meant to convince me of something they wanted me to believe. But the leather file had the Order’s seal. I recognized the design. That couldn’t easily be forged.

Or maybe I wasn’t ready to face what was inside…

I watched the flames die down to embers, my eyelids drooping as more questions looped in my head. The steady sound of his breathing above assured me he was asleep, lulling me with its rhythm, quieting the voice in my head.

And then I did the worst possible thing I could do in the presence of an enemy.

I fell asleep.

When I woke at some point in early light, it was with a gasp. The fire had gone out and I blinked to adjust my eyes to make out shapes.

I recognized the shapes of the chairs in the kitchen and the ladder to the loft. My location slammed back into me—I was in the cottage, what we’d called the Hermit’s Hut. With the alpha wolf.

The sound of him breathing up in the loft meant I was safe. For now. Not that he’d made any attempt to hurt me.

Yet.

I ran my fingers through my hair as I went through what had happened yesterday again as the light rose outside the slats in the window.

I resolved to start fresh today, after food and rest.

I rose to my feet, folded the blanket, and gathered the bedroll. The air in the cottage had cooled overnight, so I started a fire to get some warmth back in here. The last thing I wanted was the chill to creep back into my bones. My hair was down around my shoulders and I finger-combed it the best I could. I’d braid it later.

In the kitchen, I did the same with the fire for the kettle. The leather folder remained on the table, string-tied and thick as a brick. Years of receipts, he’d said. I’d open it, after a strong mug of tea.

I found black tea and the mint that Conan had used yesterday. The sound of the ladder moving drew my attention. My movements must have woken him. When I turned to look, he was climbing down it, wearing only a pair of black shorts. The muscles in his shoulders, back, and thighs flexed with his descent, and I couldn’t tear my gaze away.

He skipped the last rung to land on the wooden floor planks with a thud.

He turned to face me, sleep drooping his eyes, and my pulse raced just a tad quicker.

“Good morning, Ruby.” His lips curved into a half smile, the first one I’d seen on him, and that did something else to my insides that I refused to acknowledge this early in the morning after a very confusing night. “Your hair looks nice like that.”

The compliment worked a shade of heat through my cheeks, and a part of me inside was pleased. Deeply pleased.

“I’m surprised you’re still here.” His smile widened. “And that I’m still breathing.”

Words jumbled on the way to my lips, very uncharacteristic for a well-trained field operative. What came out was, “What happened to your shirt?”

That should have been at the bottom of my list of questions.