After I say good night to Eden, an ache settles in my chest — as if every step away from her pulls at something vital. The farther I walk, the sharper it gets. I want to turn around, go back and hold her until this all makes sense, but she asked for space and I have to respect that. Turns out commanding a pack doesn’t make you very good at waiting.
Back at the pack house Sam is in the kitchen, arms folded, no doubt waiting to see if I’ve managed to mess this up again.
“Alpha,” he says, casual as ever.
“Sam. You need something?”
He glances up, then around, then straight at me. “Where’s Eden?”
“She wanted to stay at Oliver’s tonight. Said she needed time to think.”
“Oh.” He exhales, then studies my face. “So you two okay?”
I can’t stop the grin that surfaces. The memory of her lips —
