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As we arrive, I tear off my drenched T-shirt and wring it out irritably. Damned thing feels like it’s trying to suffocate me.
“Home sweet home,” I say, hoping my corniness will relax her a little. But when I turn to her, she’s staring at me, transfixed. Her eyes drag up and down my body, and they turn dark, stormy. At the same time, her sweet cherry lips part.
She likes what she sees.
Holy shit.A deep growl rolls through my chest.
Energy crackles in the air. An electrical storm, flying from me to her, and back again. Momentarily, I glimpse her wolf—something silvery and soft, rising to the surface and falling away again, quick as a fish.
My own wolf pants.
Mate.
Mine.
I turn away quick, the sickness lurching through me again. This is getting worse by the second.
Not my mate.
I have no mate.
Silently, I repeat the words, until the beast retreats.
Then I turn back to her.
“You can put your bag down.” I point to the table and chairs I’ve got set up under my slide-out awning. Not that anyone ever sits in the chairs but me. “You got anything to wear in there?”
“Uh—” she dumps the bag on the table and starts rooting through. A bunch of things emerge, all drenched. She holds up some kind of tight black pants. Legging, I think women call them. They’re mostly unscathed. She rolls them up with a couple of smaller bits of fabric.
Underwear.I bite back the thought, but it’s too late. My wolf is already racing ahead, picturing her in a bra and panties. In no underwear at all. My cock swells beneath the zipper of my shorts, which are currently clinging to me like a second skin.
Too much. Too fast.
I exhale slowly, think of ugly, tragic things until my erection recedes.
“I can lend you a shirt?” I offer.
She nods. “Thanks.” She looks a little softer now. Like she might be starting to trust me, just a little.
“Let me show you around inside—” I start to say, then I remember how I left my bed still made up, the sheets no doubt tumbled across the mattress. “On second thoughts, you take a look inside. I’ll wait out here. Guess it’s not appropriate for, you know—”
I cough, don’t finish that thought.
Not appropriate, or safe for a guy to be alone in a small space with his mate. Who he hasn’t claimed.
“On third thoughts, let me get your shower stuff all set up.” I dive through the door of my RV, grateful for a moment to force my desire—my wolf—back under control.
My bathroom is small, but it’s functional. I can’t always bathe in rivers, and I’m not a wolf who likes to skip personal hygiene. I check the water tank, which is almost full, and turn on the boiler so the water will run nice and hot. God knows this poor girl deserves a little comfort. Then I grab a brand-new bar of soap out of my supplies and add it to the shampoo on the shower shelf. My towels are kinda basic, probably what’s known as guy’s towels, but I pick the softest one I have and hang it on the hook on the bathroom door. Then I gaze at my meagre toiletry collection in dismay. There’s a toothbrush and toothpaste. I trim my beard with scissors from time to time. Even though my hair’s longish, it does its own thing and it doesn’t need combing. I sure hope she has her own washbag.
Lastly, I fold the bed back into its alcove, and some of the tension leaves my body.
When I come back outside, she’s sitting at the table, leafing through a notebook. Her shoulders are hunched, and so vulnerable they slay me. I want to protect this girl from anything that could hurt her.
At the sound of my approach, she snaps the notebook shut and stuffs it in her bag. As she looks up, her forehead is furrowed in sadness. If she was mine, I’d draw all that sadness out of her, then I’d kiss it away.
Instead, I gesture at the open door. “All yours,” I tell her.
She leaps up and scurries inside, and I appreciate just how uncomfortable she was in those clothes. She’s taken the backpack with her. It’s going to leave a ton of mud in the RV, but I get it. It’s probably the only thing she owns in this whole world.
She’s also left a trail of mud on the table, the chair and all the way up the steps. A surge of tenderness burns through me.
I keep myself busy, cleaning up, trying not to listen for her.
But it’s no good. The boiler hisses as the shower turns on, and my whole being turns to molten lava. This curvy little she-wolf, all naked in my lair.
It’s more than a lone wolf like me can take.
