They hadn’t ignited the spark she wanted to feel, the one that came from finding a true mate. She wanted a love like her parents had shared—the love only capable between fated mates.
Callie told herself that she would find that love one day.
What did it matter that Bear wasn’t attracted to her? What did it matter that, judging by the look in his eyes, he found her repulsive? That was a good thing. It meant he was unlikely to try anything with her. It meant she was safe.
“Put it on, Wolf.” He shoved the fleece towards her again, his rough features hardening like granite. “I’m taking you to Black Ridge. You’re going to answer to my alpha and if you want to do that naked, it’s up to you… but there are unmated males at the pride.”
She tensed.
Unmated males that Bear clearly felt would ogle her and want to do things to her if she was nude. She wasn’t attractive enough for Bear, but he believed she would be alluring enough to these males.
She didn’t want him to feel he had scored a victory over her, but she snatched the fleece and pulled it on, was quick to zip it up. She paused with her hand near her throat as his scent hit her—rich, earthy, warm. Her eyes lifted and locked with his, her fingers lingering on the tab of the zipper, her thoughts twisting and twining together. She felt unsteady as she gazed into his eyes, as something crossed them, a flicker of feelings that were there and gone in a heartbeat, erased before she could decipher them.
She convinced herself to release the zipper and tried not to think about how she was wearing something of his and how it carried his scent—scent that was now stamped all over her. There was something pleasing about the way he smelled, something that eased her tension and her fear. No. It wasn’t his scent doing that. She told herself that on repeat. It was the fact she was covered now, the warm fleece concealing everything from her shoulders to midway down her thighs. She was covered and that was the reason she felt safer.
It had nothing to do with Bear’s scent.
She thought about what he had said about the bears at this Black Ridge place where he wanted to take her.
Did Bear have a mate? He didn’t strike her as the sort of male who had one. He had too many rough edges for that, but stranger things had happened.
Someone in this world might have thought the brute act appealing.
Bear continued to look at her, his gaze searing her despite the fact it was devoid of emotions, the thick impenetrable layer of ice concealing what he was thinking. She wanted to know what was running through his mind, couldn’t hold her tongue as he remained standing close to her rather than distancing himself as she had expected.
She angled her head back, tipping it up towards his, and whispered.
“Why are you staring at me?”
Chapter 4
Rune wasn’t about to answer that question and he certainly wasn’t going to examine the way he had reacted to the female over the last few minutes. She had surprised him by shifting back while still in his grasp, enough that she had easily escaped his hold, and then she had stood there as bold as brass, naked and full of spit and fire.
He hadn’t quite known where to look, but his eyes had decided that searing the image of her on his memory was a good place to start.
Which had unnerved him enough that he had made what he now felt was a monumental mistake.
He had tried to cover her up and in his infinite wisdom, he had offered his fleece, and now she was wearing it, her sinful curves draped in the black material his body had warmed, his scent stamped all over her, obliterating that trace of perfume he had smelled on her.
It was enough to throw him for a loop, had him standing as still as a statue and staring at her, lost in the conflict that raged within him, swept up in it to the point where if she wanted to run, he probably wouldn’t be able to snap himself out of his thoughts to stop her.
She eyed him closely, a shrewd edge to her large amber eyes, and he wanted to bare his teeth at her and warn her to stop staring at him. Ironic, he knew. He couldn’t stop staring at her, but her staring at him made him angry, made him want to lash out at her and drive her away.
Or maybe it was how she made him feel that had him reacting violently to her presence.
He didn’t like the way she affected him, how unsteady she made him, how she left him feeling unsure of what to do or how to handle her. He wanted answers from her, had threatened to turn her over to Saint, but the more he thought about taking her to Black Ridge, the more he wanted to walk her in the opposite direction to his pride’s home.
Because he needed to protect them from a possible threat.
That was the only reason he didn’t want to take her to the Ridge.
It had nothing to do with the thought of her being near Maverick. Maverick. Was his friend still out there searching for his trail or had sense kicked in to tell him to return to the Ridge to wait for him? Rune hoped it was the latter.
He looked at the wolf, knew he should take her to the Ridge to ease his friend’s mind by returning to his side, and also show Saint that he had resisted the urge to kill another wolf. He couldn’t though.
Rune came up with a multitude of reasons why he shouldn’t take her to Black Ridge straight away.
He could get her to answer his questions and might be able to release her without ever needing to reveal where his pride lived. It was dark and her injury would make it difficult to get her through the forest without incident, and he was damned if he was going to carry her. There was a place nearby where he could easily spend the night with the wolf and carry out his business, without having to involve Saint, proving that he could handle things by himself without surrendering to his need to kill all wolves.
Rune seized her arm as resolve flowed through him and tugged her towards the hunter’s cabin that was barely a few hundred feet from him, closer to the mountain.
“Where are you taking me?” She twisted her wrist in his grip, her words coming out clipped and harsh, full of the anger he could sense in her. “Let me go. I’m not going to meet your alpha.”
“You’re right about that.” He yanked her forwards, refusing to feel bad when her injured ankle gave out and she hit the dirt on her knees, tugging him backwards as he kept hold of her arm.
Rune pulled her back onto her feet. She glared at him rather than thanked him.
“Son of a bitch,” she snarled, baring short fangs, and turned her wrist again, didn’t seem to care that she was hurting herself. “Let me go.”
She battered his arm with her other hand.
When she lunged her head towards him, clearly intending to sink fangs into him again, he jerked her arm up, throwing her aim off. He lifted his hand higher and she grunted and rose onto her tiptoes, desperately trying to remain in contact with the ground.
“You keep on fighting me and we’re going to fall out.” He bared his teeth as he squared up to her.
She pulled a face and tried to use her weight against him, her muscles flexing as she bounced in his grip, attempting to pull his arm down. He tightened his grip on her wrist, showing her that it wasn’t going to work.
She surprised him by lifting her bare feet and pressing them to his thigh. She leaned backwards, her jaw clenching as she heaved, as she shoved against his leg while pulling on his arm.
Getting nowhere.
“Wolf,” he growled in warning, haemorrhaging patience as she made another pathetic attempt to escape his hold.