The Wolf in Sheep's Skin

Chapter 21

I ran over to him, stopping at his truck bed.

“Hello there.” He grinned and leaned against the truck, with his arm bent and his hand holding his head up.

“You have a bad habit of taking things that aren’t yours.” I crossed my arms. The apron had grass stains all over it.

“I thought it was a parting gift.” He smiled, and his eyes were half closed, like he was basking in the moonlight.

“No. It’s mine, and you can’t keep it.” I stepped closer and held out my hand. He stared at it and made a rumbling sound, like he was thinking.

“No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’? It isn’t yours to keep; I worked hard on that!” I clenched my jaw together and his eyes sparkled.

“You said it suits me.”

“That doesn’t mean you get to keep it!”

“I thought it was tradition for hosts to give a gift to attendees?”

“They caught three hogs, an elk, and a moose for you. That’s plenty!”

He scratched his chin, and a coy smile crossed his face. My insides turned to goo, and my heart skipped a beat.

“You caught all that for me?” His eyes twinkled, and his voice was smooth.

“Don’t flatter yourself; I didn’t catch it. And I didn’t know it was for you.”

“I’m keeping it.” He frowned and dropped his hand from his face. He stood there, staring at me with the lazy, sleepy look he had. I glared at him and balled up my fists.

“Over my dead body you are!” I snarled and stormed over to him. His eyes went wide, and he stood up straight. I went behind him and worked at the apron’s knot.

He watched me over his shoulder, but I kept my eyes on the knot. It was difficult, like some kind of sailor’s knot. My fingers couldn’t get a good grip, and I growled.

“You’re quite muscular.” He murmured in that smooth voice, staring at my shoulders.

I glared up at him, meeting his eyes, and anger flared in my chest.

“Well, you look better with a beard!” I spat at him and pulled at the knot. He recoiled like I’d slapped him.

“I meant it as a compliment.” He sounded hurt, and his jaw tightened. I scrunched up my nose at him.

“What woman wants to be told she looks like a man?” I scoffed at him.

“You’ve got nice t*ts for a man.” He glared at my chest, then flicked his eyes back to mine. I dropped the knot, put my hands on hips, and growled.

“I don’t get you! How can you go from being great and playing with kids, then saying awful stuff like that?” I pursed my lips and stared up at him. His face softened, and he turned, resting his back against the truck.

“How would you like me to say it?” His voice was soft like silk, and I froze, my face dropping.

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t say it at all!” I shouted.

His eyes went wide, and that awful, smug look crossed his face.

“That’s a pure lie if I ever did smell one.” He tilted his head and his eyes drifted down to my lips. I sucked in a breath and froze.

My heart raced and hands went numb. Icy tendrils climbed up my spine, yet my skin was hot and flush. I shook and something stirred in my core. His eyes had a hint of copper, and I couldn’t help but stare at his lips.

They looked soft and plush compared to the rest of his smooth face. His jaw line was sharp and refined. He was too close, and I could feel the heat coming off him. The faint scent of his aftershave sent a small shiver up my spine.

I could hear his racing heart, and my skin ached like it needed to be touched.

His eyes left my lips as he met mine. He sighed and relaxed, and his eyelids drooped again. My mind was blank, frazzled, and I grasped for something quick-witted to say. But nothing came to mind.

I turned and started back to the house.

“Wait.”

I froze and stared at him. I was still in arm’s reach, and I thought about running, but part of me couldn’t. He reached around behind himself, and the apron went slack. He pulled it over his head and held it out to me.

I glared at it and snatched it out of his hand. The hint of a smile reached his lips. I scoffed and stomped back to the house, leaving him at his truck. His truck door closed, and I climbed the patio steps, and went inside.

My parents, Maeve, and Quinn were at the window with the curtains pushed aside. They stared at me with guilty faces, and dad let out a nervous little laugh.

“Unbelievable!” I groaned, squeezed the apron, and stomped off to the laundry room. I tossed the apron in a basket and went upstairs to my room.

I stripped and undid my hair and pulled back the covers on my bed. But I paused, glancing at my mirror. Am I really that muscular?

I stared at my arms and shoulders and glared at them. I didn’t have the soft, delicate arms most women had in the pack. I’d thought it was grotesque when I was younger, hiding my arms. But over time, I’d grown used to them.

Why did he have to say it like that? It’s not like I’m a bodybuilder with bulging muscles and veins sticking out of my arms. I’m just a bit more defined. I glared at myself in the mirror. The rest of me matched my arms, with my stomach having a hint of a six-pack, yet a soft pooch sat above where my hips met.

I’m not ‘quite muscular’! It’s just how my body looks! I frowned, but my shoulders dropped.

He did say it was a compliment. And his tone didn’t sound like he meant to offend. If anything, he sounded… charmed? Allured? I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair.

He could’ve said it nicer! Given a real compliment, not some cheap, half-*ssed vulgar comment!

I growled, climbed into bed, and turned off the light. Going out there was a mistake! I pulled the blanket tighter to me. D*mn him and his smug face.

I tried to put my mind on other things, but his eyes were burned into my memory, like he was still watching me. The scent of his aftershave swirled around in my mind, and no matter how much I wrapped myself in my blanket, I was still cold. I kept thinking about the warmth that radiated off him, how warm he’d been as my fingertips had brushed against his back while I tried undoing the knot. My lips tingled, and as I traced my fingers over them, my core tightened.

I sucked in a breath and scowled at my hand, catching myself, and shoved my hand back under the blanket. I growled and shoved my head into the pillow and struggled to fall asleep.

Jay

My truck rattled as I drove home with the windows down. Cool night air blew over my skin. It took all my self-control to keep driving home. Gwen’s expression was stuck in my mind.

The way her lips had parted. How she’d watched my lips with hopeful eyes.

I sucked in a breath and gripped the steering wheel tighter. Her scent was on me, all around me. I kept imagining, wishing, I’d kissed her. I could practically feel how warm she’d be, how soft her lips would be, giving, and melting against mine. I could almost taste her, how sweet she’d be, with her spiced mead scent.

I scowled at the road and growled at myself. I should’ve done it.

But she’d hesitated, and her scent had a hint of fear.

She wasn’t ready. She’d hate me if I’d done it then; I’d have been forcing myself on her. Just because she’d told a lie doesn’t mean she wanted it.

But I wanted nothing more than to stop the car. Don’t go back there. She’ll be pissed; it won’t work how I want.

My wolf was antsy, as if we were on the hunt, but he still hadn’t said anything.

Was Ansel right? He said she was submitting to Olivia. If that’s true, she’s only be able to shout at me like that if we’re mates.

I kept mulling it over in my mind, replaying every time I’d been near her, every conversation we’d had. But my wolf had been quiet the whole time. Quiet, waiting, pacing.

She isn’t afraid to tell me off, that’s for sure. How many other women argue with me without hesitation?

I couldn’t recall any. Maybe a Fae here or there, but they always seemed cautious. Like it was a calculated risk they took. Gwen acts like she can’t help herself.

I kept picturing her standing in front of the door, with her back straight, looking at me head on. Without a hint of fear in her. Not in her body language, not in her scent, not in her eyes.

She isn’t dense or st*pid. That’s not why she lacks fear.

Is it me? Her family? They didn’t seem afraid either. Her father and mother weren’t.

I groaned and tried to relax. I knew I wouldn’t be able to think my way through, and since my wolf had continued to stay silent, I wouldn’t get the answer to my biggest question.

But I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel, pondering. Trying to convince myself not to go back.

Soon I was pulling up into my own driveway. I didn’t bother to pull the car into the garage and hopped out. The sky was dark above me, and wind rustled my hair as I walked up the pathway. My stomach tightened as my keys jingled in my hand.

My house was large, and looming. Dark windows stared at me as I walked past the natural landscape of the yard. I’d built the house years ago, meticulously planning, and had created the ‘perfect’ house.

But when I opened the door and stepped inside, my stomach twisted into knots. I wanted to turn and run, to shift. To be one with the woods.

I sighed and plopped my keys in the little stand next to the door and shrugged off my shoes. The empty living room greeted me.

The sound of my shoes dropping to the floor echoed in the empty house. I grimaced at the silence.

The cold room stared at me. Hollow. Devoid of life.

Empty rooms upstairs taunted me, where children should’ve been. The laughter of children from the O’Niell’s rang through my mind, like a knife cutting through me. I scowled and slammed the door behind me.