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A small squeak comes from the doorway, and I turn at the worst fucking minute, cum spurting across half the wall as Tess stares wide-eyed from the doorway, her face flushed pink in a way that keeps my cock from deflating all the way—even once I've painted the damn wall.
"Fuck," I grunt, reaching for the closest towel so I can cover myself up.
Not that it matters, apparently, because even with a towel wrapped around my waist, Tess's eyes don't raise to eye level. I clear my throat twice before her gaze jerks up to meet mine.
"I'm so sorry," she mumbles.
I can't manage a response. I'm too fixated on two things—the fact that she's still blatantly looking me in the eyes despite her embarrassment, and the fact that she hasn't stormed out.
Moving at a glacial pace, I step over the lip of the shower and move toward her, desperately trying to hold onto my calm despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins. I'm waiting for her to run from me or slap me or something, but she's curiously still until I reach her.
She tilts her head back to keep eye contact.
"You feel safe here," I point out, pushing my luck.
Her face sours. "No." She shakes her head hard. "I was worried your pack might be in danger. None of this means I'm staying.”
She said "none of this."Of course that's what my wolf gets stuck on.That sounds suggestive. Like something else could potentially happen. Take her to bed and mark her, you idiot!
That's one hell of a leap I'm not even going to attempt to make. Instead, I focus on the other thing she said. She was worried about the pack.
"Worrying about the pack seems like something a proper Luna would do," I say in a voice far more casual than how I feel at the moment. I feel like my self-control is a thin string that's threatening to snap.
She stares at me unblinking for a moment before turning and disappearing back into the room.
"Great talk," I say sarcastically, loudly enough that I know she can hear me from the bedroom.
For a second, it felt like maybe we were finally getting somewhere. Like I was either going to jump her bones or she was going to have an actual conversation with me. She can’t deny it means something that she came back because she’s worried about the pack.
Pack life is everything to us shifters. The people we form packs with become our family, and for the most part, those families stay together for life.
Tess is a bit of an anomaly having belonged to two packs already, but there's nothing stopping her from joining a third. The Anchorage Lake Pack could—and should—be her last stop. Family history, Callum Cross, and this new Maren French Henry woman be damned.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Tess
"What is wrong with me? What the hell is wrong with me?" I mutter into the cool air.
I’ve been twisted up in knots ever since I stepped foot back into this pack house. For so long, all my decisions have been made for me. Tevin and Tasha made the decisions while they raised me. Then, when I fled home after Dominic rejected me, I ran straight back to Tasha. And Callum helped pick up the slack. He was the one who offered me a job. The one who suggested the house I moved into.
Other people have guided me through so much of my life, and even though I’ve dug my heels in with Dominic so far, I feel like whatever control I thought I had is slipping.
Dominic seems to have done a complete one-eighty. If he seemed to be grudgingly keeping me hostage before, now he seems to be hovering over me like a hawk desperate to strike. He's already made it clear he intends to mark me given the chance—and that terrifies me.
He is right though; I came back here because I was worried the Anchorage Lake Pack would be distracted by my absence… too distracted to notice rogues if they decided to try crossing over into Dominic's territory. I was worried about the pack the way I would be if I embraced fate and allowed myself to be marked. This pack would become my responsibility for real.
The thought makes me shudder.
"You're cold, come inside," Dominic says in a clipped voice, clearly misunderstanding my shudder.
I look over my shoulder to see him hovering in the doorway, not quite joining me, but watching over me nonetheless. Clearly, I've had too much excitement for one day and my brain is only functioning at partial capacity. Because for a second, all I can do is stare at him and wonder why I'm so hell-bent on leaving.
How many women have seen that protective look in his eyes and fallen prey to it? I feel a little bitter imagining other women in this exact same position.
It's not jealousy. It's just that I hate the idea that I could be a momentary plaything, easily replaced by the next wolf when I inevitably leave. The only thing really special about me is that I'm Dominic's actual mate.
Well, not really anymore.
