The Bad Boy Beta Wants Me

Chapter 12

Hannah

At twelve fourteen, something tapped against my bedroom window.

I lay still beneath the duvet.

It happened again.

My first thought was a branch. My second was that there wasn’t a tree close enough to reach my window, which made the first thought considerably less comforting.

I switched on my bedside lamp.

A pebble struck the glass.

I scrambled out of bed and looked down.

Damien Cross stood in our garden, holding another pebble.

Of course he did.

I opened the window.

“What are you doing?”

He smiled up at me.

“Good. Right room.”

“Damien.”

“Inviting you for a run.”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“Very observant. Coming?”

⸻

I glanced toward my closed bedroom door.

Dad had gone to bed an hour ago, still displeased about the way I’d spent supper looking across the hall.

Damien had arrived late, endured a quiet conversation with his father, and been seated near the pack officers. I’d sat between my parents while somebody asked whether I’d met any promising wolves at the festival.

From across the room, Damien had lifted his glass toward me.

I’d nearly laughed into my potatoes.

Now he stood beneath my window as though this was a perfectly reasonable way to end the evening.

“Try the front door during daylight.”

“Your father seems particular about the front door.”

“He’s particular about you.”

“I’d noticed.”

A light came on in a house across the street.

Damien stepped into the shadow beside our fence.

My heart jumped.

“Go home.”

He looked up again.

“Do you actually want me to?”

That was unfair.

Not because he was forcing me.

Because he’d asked the question I didn’t want to answer.

“No,” I whispered.

His smile returned.

“Then put some shoes on.”

⸻

Ten minutes later, I eased the back door shut and found him waiting beside the garden shed.

He looked at my trainers, leggings, and oversized sweatshirt.

“Expedition ready.”

“Keep your voice down.”

“I’m whispering.”

“You’re whispering smugly.”

“Special skill.”

He reached for my hand.

I took it before I could reconsider.

We slipped through the side gate and walked quickly toward the trees. Every sound seemed louder than it should: gravel beneath my shoes, a dog barking somewhere, Damien’s quiet laugh when I looked over my shoulder for the fourth time.

“We’re going to get caught.”

“Not if you stop looking like you’ve stolen something.”

“I’ve never sneaked out before.”

“I’ll put it on the certificate.”

I stopped beneath the first trees.

“How long?”

He turned.

“What?”

“The run. I have work tomorrow.”

“Half an hour. We stay inside the eastern markers.”

“No reservoir?”

“No reservoir.”

“No climbing anything?”

“Your list is becoming offensive.”

“Promise.”

His expression changed slightly.

“All right. Just a run.”

⸻

At the little clearing beyond the houses, he nodded toward a thick stand of bushes.

“I’ll shift over there. You take this side.”

For some reason, that made me more nervous than climbing out of bed had.

Damien noticed.

“You’ve shifted before, Ellis.”

“Yes.”

“Then you’re ahead of me. Usually I turn into something terrible and surprise everyone.”

I shoved his arm.

He caught my hand briefly, laughing.

Then let go and disappeared behind the bushes.

I waited until I heard his footsteps retreat before taking off my clothes and folding them beneath my sweatshirt.

Finally, Fern said.

You could try being less enthusiastic.

You brought us outside. I’m supporting your decisions.

I closed my eyes and let her forward.

The shift stretched through me, uncomfortable for a few breaths before the ground felt different beneath four paws.

Then the night opened.

Damp earth. Bark. A rabbit somewhere beyond the clearing.

And him.

⸻

Damien’s wolf stepped between the trees.

He was larger than Fern, black except for a gray patch beneath his jaw. He stopped several feet away, ears pricked.

I knew it was Damien.

I also knew that didn’t make the size of him any less impressive.

Fern lifted her head.

He approached slowly, nose extended.

She let him sniff once.

Then sneezed directly in his face.

I felt her amusement.

Fern.

He smells like smoke.

The black wolf jerked back.

For a moment, he stood motionless.

Then he dropped his front legs, hindquarters high, tail sweeping behind him.

An invitation.

Fern darted forward.

At the last second, she turned and ran.

⸻

He caught up almost immediately.

That should have annoyed her.

Instead, she veered between two closely spaced trees and left him scrambling to turn behind her.

I laughed inside her head.

Fern was smaller, lighter, and apparently delighted to exploit it.

She leaped a fallen branch, ducked beneath a leaning trunk, and splashed straight through a shallow stream.

Damien stopped at the bank.

She looked back.

Then kicked water toward him.

He launched into the stream.

Fern fled.

For several glorious minutes, there was no school, no whispered warning, no need to work out what any of this meant.

Just cool air in our lungs and the sound of another wolf keeping pace.

At the edge of the next clearing, he finally reached her.

His shoulder bumped hers.

She spun, caught a mouthful of loose fur near his neck, and tugged.

He rolled.

Deliberately, I suspected.

Fern landed half across his chest, triumphant.

Then his enormous paw settled over her back.

Pinned.

She wriggled free with an indignant huff.

I could practically hear Damien laughing.

⸻

We rested on a patch of grass beneath the trees.

Fern lay close enough that his flank brushed hers when he stretched out.

She didn’t move away.

Neither did he.

There was no recognition. No certainty whispering that we’d found him.

But Fern was content, her breathing slowing as she watched the leaves move overhead.

You like him, I said.

He runs well.

That’s your explanation?

She tucked her nose against one paw.

Apparently, wolves could avoid a question too.

Beside us, Damien lifted his head toward the distant houses.

Then he stood and nudged Fern’s shoulder.

Time.

⸻

Back at the clearing, we gave each other privacy again.

When Damien emerged dressed, his hair stuck up on one side and a leaf clung to his sleeve.

I pulled it free.

“Evidence.”

He glanced at it.

“Your wolf fights dirty.”

“She won.”

“She cheated.”

“Terrible when somebody ignores the rules.”

He stared at me.

Then laughed quietly enough that I stepped closer to hear it.

“Had fun, Ellis?”

I looked toward the sleeping houses.

“Yes.”

He didn’t tease me for admitting it.

That made me want to stay longer.

⸻

At my back door, I checked the time.

Thirty-six minutes since I’d left my room.

I should have been relieved.

Instead, I was disappointed.

Damien leaned close.

“Sleep well.”

“You’re a terrible influence.”

“Seemed to manage plenty yourself.”

He was right.

That was becoming inconvenient.

I slipped inside, locked the door, and made it upstairs without waking anybody.

In bed, I pulled the duvet over my legs and found a blade of grass stuck to my ankle.

I left it on the bedside table.

By morning, it would probably look ordinary.

For now, it felt like proof that I’d done something I wanted—and had a wonderful time doing it.