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I open my laptop and try to focus on my work—investigating the offshore accounts of a political hopeful, but every couple of minutes, my eyes drift to the window. I wonder what Savannah is doing right now. If she’s happier than she was when I left her. The thought turns like a screw in my chest. I want to make her the happiest person alive. She deserves that and so much more, but I only seem to be making her sad.
Halfway through the morning, the door of the bar opens and my attention focuses in, like a heat-seeking missile.
A familiar figure exits, stalks across the street, and throws open the door of the café. In another second, she’s right by my table, elbows jutting out, beady eyes scrutinizing me like a worm she’s about to yank out of the earth.
“You’re not supposed to be here!” she shrills, planting her elbows on her bony hips.
I wince. “Good morning to you, too, Elinor.”
She wags her finger at me. “You’re not being very nice to my friend.”
I swallow hard. “What do you mean?”
“She’s sad. And I don’t like my friends to be sad.”
“I’m trying to protect her!”
Her birdy eyes narrow to little black slits. “Who from?”
I take a deep, ruminative breath. “Myself.”
“Yourself?” Her eyes bulge. “That’s crazy talk. Anyone can see she’s smitten with you.”
“She is?” My heart seems to skip a beat.
“Of course.”
“My wolf—” I break off, unsure how to explain.
Elinor bends at the waist and peers into my face. I push my wolf way down, as it’s longing to snap at her, and I hold still and let her do her thing.
Her eyelids flicker like an information processing device. “You struggle with it, huh?” she says at last.
I blink, surprised at this bird-brain’s perspicacity. “I do.”
“Better fix it.” She wags her finger at me again. “Or you’ll lose her forever.”
She turns on her heel and sasses her way out of the café.
I dropmy head into my hands. I was trying to doing my best for Savannah, protecting her, keeping her safe, even as I fought all my instincts to take her, make her mine.
But all this time I’ve been hurting her. Kissing her, giving her orgasms, then refusing to mate her. Probably making her feel rejected again, which is the last thing I ever wanted.
I thought I was doing the right thing, but I’m starting to think I’ll hurt her less by being out of her life altogether.
Being away from her will kill me.
But I can’t stand for her to hurt anymore.
I push back my chair.
A moment later, I’m out the door, too.
* * *
I dash allthe way back to Bertha. Then I grab a notepad, scrawl out a note.
Savannah, I need to go away on a job for a couple of days.
