5
1042 Words
I didn’t sleep.
Like, at all.
Every time I closed my eyes, I heard that howl.
Every time I drifted off, I dreamed of golden eyes and claws raking against the door.
By the time my alarm went off, I looked like a raccoon that had been through a war. My hair stuck out at odd angles, my sweatshirt was inside out, and my sneakers didn’t even match.
I didn’t care.
I had bigger problems.
Namely, my homicidal, growling, possibly feral boss.
I stomped into work like a woman on a mission.
The front of the lodge was quiet, early morning light filtering through the tall windows. The smell of coffee and woodsmoke clung to the air, almost cozy.
Almost.
Until I remembered that somewhere in this building lurked a man who thought he was the Big Bad Wolf from a horror movie.
I dropped my bag behind the front desk and cracked my knuckles. My heart pounded. My hands shook. I felt like I was marching into battle—and I wasn’t planning on losing.
No more terrified running.
No more feeling like prey.
Today, I was the predator.
I spotted Lukas almost immediately—standing by the big stone fireplace, coffee mug in hand, looking like a Calvin Klein ad for Murderous Woodsy Men.
His flannel shirt was unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled up, forearms on full terrifying display. His hair was still messy from sleep, and there were dark shadows under his eyes.
Good. I hoped he was suffering too.
I stomped right up to him, jabbing a finger into his chest.
"You," I snapped.
He blinked down at me, a muscle ticking in his jaw. "Autumn."
"Don't you 'Autumn' me!" I barked. "We need to talk."
He set down his coffee, slow and careful, like he was trying not to spook me.
Which only pissed me off more.
"I’m not crazy," he said quietly.
I laughed—a short, sharp, wild sound. "Oh, babe. You’re absolutely nuts."
His eyes narrowed slightly at the endearment, but he stayed quiet.
"You scared the hell out of me last night," I hissed, keeping my voice low so the other staff wouldn’t hear. "You basically admitted to being a werewolf! You tried to gaslight me into thinking that was normal!"
He stepped closer. I backed up instinctively until my back hit the stone of the fireplace.
"You know I didn’t hurt you," he said, voice low and rough.
"Yeah, well, terrorizing your employee isn’t exactly a healthy work environment either!" I shot back.
He leaned in, bracing one hand on the wall beside my head. Not touching me. But close enough that the air between us sparked.
"You think I would ever let anything hurt you?" he said fiercely.
"I think you need therapy," I said flatly.
His lips twitched, like he almost smiled.
Almost.
Instead, he leaned in closer, voice dropping to a dangerous purr. "You’re scared."
"Damn right I’m scared!" I said, shoving at his chest. He didn’t move an inch. Like trying to push a brick wall. "Normal people don’t howl at the moon and growl at random strangers and talk about losing people they barely know!"
"You’re not random," he growled.
"I’m your dog-walker!"
He actually flinched like I’d slapped him.
Something flickered behind his eyes—something raw, almost wounded.
Good.
Maybe he needed to feel a little of the chaos he was shoving into my life.
"I don’t want whatever crazy fantasy you’re trying to sell me," I said, my voice cracking from the sheer emotional whiplash. "I want my normal life back. I want my dumb job and my pumpkin spice lattes and my Netflix binges. Not...not this."
His hand curled into a fist against the wall.
"You can’t go back," he said quietly.
The sheer finality in his voice made my stomach drop.
I shook my head, panicking. "You don’t get to decide that. You don’t get to just...just drag me into your world because you’re lonely or obsessed or whatever!"
"I didn’t choose this," he growled. "I didn’t choose you."
My chest twisted.
Because that almost sounded like he hated it.
Like he hated me.
Good. Fine. I could work with that.
I squared my shoulders. "Well, newsflash, buddy. I didn’t choose you either."
He flinched again.
Good.
I ducked under his arm and stormed away, my hands shaking so hard I could barely keep my fists unclenched.
Behind me, I heard him swear under his breath.
I didn’t look back.
Couldn’t.
Because if I did, I wasn’t sure if I’d run to him or from him.
And either option scared the hell out of me.
The rest of my shift passed in a surreal haze.
I kept my head down, doing the laundry, answering phones, refilling the coffee station.
Pretending I was normal.
Pretending I hadn’t been threatened by the local werewolf bossman before ten AM.
Every time I caught a glimpse of Lukas stalking through the lodge—talking quietly to guests, checking inventory, fixing things around the property—my heart leapt into my throat.
He didn’t come near me.
Didn’t even look at me.
But I could feel him.
Like a storm on the horizon.
Waiting.
Brewing.
By the time my shift ended, I was so fried I could barely see straight.
I practically ran to my car, fumbling my keys with shaking hands.
Of course, the second I slammed the door shut, the tears came.
Hot, stupid, angry tears.
I wiped them away furiously, cursing under my breath.
I wasn’t crying because I was scared.
I was crying because...some part of me already missed him.
Which was insane.
Which was exactly why I couldn’t let myself fall into whatever twisted world he was offering.
I started the engine, gripping the wheel so hard my knuckles turned white.
"I am not a werewolf’s mate," I told myself firmly.
"I am not crazy."
"I am not going to fall for a guy who howls at the moon."
The engine coughed, shuddered, and roared to life.
I pulled out of the parking lot without looking back once.
If Lukas Grove wanted me?
He was going to have to do a hell of a lot more than growl.
- Writer
