Page 34 of Wolf's Mate

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He put the radio down on a small table in the corner, and went to rummage some more in that same bag.

“Got it!” he shouted victoriously, holding an antenna in his hand.

“Will it work?” I ask.

“Will it work?” he repeats, accentuating every word. “It sure as Hell will work.”

He looks around, still looking for something.

“Ah!” he shouts, rushing over to his backpack and getting out a screwdriver. “Now, we’re talking!”

He sits down on the floor, and gets to work. I watch as his fingers dance around the little machine which seems all but broken. It gets twisted, opened, the closed once more. The wires that are poking out are all tucked nicely in. The antenna is first resting wobbly, but he fixes that, too. When he is finished, he gets up, actually jumps up from the floor, and places the radio on the little table.

“There,” he tells me.

“You made it work?” I ask.

“Let’s see if I did,” he replies, proudly.

The look on his face tells me how much he enjoys doing these kinds of things. He gets the wire from the back and attaches it to a power source. His fingers find the button dial easily, turning it slowly. He looks like he knows exactly what he’s doing. At first, there is no sound. A few seconds pass, and I don’t have the heart to tell him the obvious. But, he keeps on twisting and turning, and I just wait for him to give up on his own.

Some more time passes, but he’s still immersed into it. I place my hand on his shoulder, but he pays no attention to it. He is too focused on the little radio. His lips purse in invisible effort, his eyebrows furrow.

Suddenly, we hear a crackle, soft, but it’s discernible.

“Ha!” he shouts victoriously once again. “What did I tell you?”

I smile at his fervor, and let him go on. The more he is twisting the dial, the more noise arises out of that little thing, as if it is doing its best to do what we expect of it. The first, inaudible words reach us, and the triumphant look on his face is even more prominent. Slowly, the words are substituted by melody. He manages to clear up the reception, and the room around us is filled with the sound of music.

“I can’t believe you did that!” I shout, enjoying the song, swaying my hips to the side.

“So, should I take it that you didn’t have faith in me?” he asks, teasingly. “For shame, Maddie. For. Shame.”

We both burst out into loud laughter at the same time.

“Come on,” he suddenly offers me his hand.

For a moment, I’m not sure what he wants me to do, but it becomes crystal clear. He wants us to dance. It’s no waltz or anything similar, where an old fashioned couple needs to follow a certain set of rules, luckily. It’s just a song. No big deal. Not like accepting this dance means I’m promising myself to him. So, I accept.

The moment I put my hand into his, he kicks his left leg forward, and swirls me with sharp precision. I can’t suppress a giggle. So, I don’t. My calf muscles flex, as the entirety of my being advances towards him, following the rhythm around us. His hands are holding mine. There is a certain control about it, his poised strike and movement are demanding, and yet giving at the same time.

I’ve never been a good follower of the rhythm, but with him, it’s easy. I’m just following the sequences of his body, realizing how much I’ve needed this, how much I needed his hands in mine, his presence so close to me. The feelings are almost crippling. But, instead of taking power away from me, it bestows more power onto me, and I can’t stop laughing, as he swirls me around the room, and all I see are his sparkling eyes.

We advance, move forward, and then move back. We pirouette, his arms around my waist, then both our arms high up above our heads. There are no rules. Just pure enjoyment. Our heads are swaying, I feel like I’m unburdened by my clothes, I feel as light as air.

Suddenly, the music stops, and we end up facing each other, so close that I can feel the warmth of his breath on the tips of my lips. His touch is electrifying. I feel like I’m standing a few inches up from the ground, almost floating, and it’s all because of him.

My lips are dry. I feel like I haven’t had a drink of water in days. I swallow heavily. His eyes are staring deeply into mine, relentless, not letting go. I’m not even sure I want him to let go. My mind has no idea what is right, and what is wrong. All I know is that his presence feels so good. It can only be right, no?

He leans a little closer to me, our lips almost touching. Our bodies follow suit. I’m trembling.

Just as he’s about to press his lips against mine, we hear the front door open.

“Anderson, are you - “

Fynn sees us standing like that, too close for comfort. I know what’s going through his mind. I know, because the same thoughts have been swarming my mind for days now, ever since this whole nightmare started. Only, I can’t even say that it’s a nightmare, because I met these two men.

“What’s going on here?” he asks, sternly, as if we are two students caught making out by the bleachers, and he’s the teacher responsible for keeping order among the students.

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