CHAPTER ELEVEN
Ispend the next two days avoiding Dayne, and anywhere where she might be. Savannah, that is.
The girl whose clothes I'm wearing since I passed close enough to her when I ran out of the den to pick up her scent. And they're all over the clothes in the chest of drawers in Dayne's room.
I'm desperate not to wear them, but I have to wear something.
I get up at five-thirty even though it kills me to do it, rush through a shower, dress, make breakfast, and after shoving eggs and bacon between two slices of toast, disappear out into the forest where I spend most of the morning and afternoon.
Since I don't catch sight of Regan at breakfast, I guess whatever emergency she had a call about means she's too busy in town to help me with the cooking. I can't help but feel relieved I don't have to deal with any sympathy she would no doubt be aiming my way.
I make sure to only return to the house again to sneak a turkey sandwich before I'm back out again.
Fortunately, the weather is pretty mild, and I don't have to worry about rain chasing me inside, which is the last place I want to be right now.
Although we sit beside each other at dinner, I eat and don't talk to anyone, just concentrate on clearing my plate and going up to bed.
Surprisingly, Dayne doesn't force me to stay. Nor does he come to bed until I've fallen asleep. And in the morning, either he's gone already, or I'm sneaking around in the dark so I don't wake him.
Of course, it can't go on forever-my dodging Dayne and the rest of the pack, but for two whole days I keep to myself and Dayne lets me. I imagine he's too busy with the return of the blonde and whatever important thing she had to tell him to bother with me.
Finally, Dayne pins me down, and just my luck, it's as I'm stepping out of the shower and reaching for a towel that he shoves the bathroom door open and steps in.
He's as naked as I am.
I freeze, half-in-half-out of the shower, dripping water on the floor, hand still outstretched to the pink fluffy towel I've left on the edge of the bathtub.
For the longest time, Dayne stares at my naked body with a carefully blank expression on his face. After tearing my gaze away from his nakedness, which takes me much longer than it should, I stare at his chin because I don't know where else to look, and it seems the safest place to focus my attention.
Heat blooms and spreads all over my body until I'm sure I must be glowing bright red as I reach for the towel. But even though I'm closer to it than he is, he finds a way to get in the way of the towel and me.
Then he's coming closer, backing me up into the shower while I silently retreat.
When he has me back in the enclosure and I'm pressed against the mosaic stone wall, he pulls the glass door closed, reaches for the dial, and turns the water back on.
"Grab the bath wash," he grunts.
I blink up at him in surprise as he dips his head under the spray, wetting his hair, and closing his eyes.
Figuring this will be the quickest way to make my escape, I snag the bottle from the corner shelf of the shower and hold it out to him as I skirt around him.
Only he doesn't take it. And even though his eyes are closed, it's like he senses what I'm doing and blocks me by taking a deliberate step back.
Turning his back on me, he rests one hand on the wall above his head and bends his head.
"You can start with my back."
The bottle slips out of my hand.
I fumble to catch it before it crashes to the floor. Only once I've got a much tighter grip on it than strictly than necessary, do I let myself gulp.
"I can start with…" I murmur, not entirely sure I heard him correctly.
"My back. Then my shoulders. I'll tell you where else I want you to clean after."
My eyes take in the wide expanse of his tanned back, the taut rippling muscles, his narrow waist, the dip just before his lower back meets the curve of his ass. And then I wrench my eyes back up again before it can go any further than that.
He wants me to clean him?
"But I…" I stop to clear my throat.
Dayne peers over his shoulder just enough for me to catch the briefest flash of ice-blue. "Or did you want to start with my front?"
His front? And would he expect me to wash his…
Violently I shake my head, my wet hair slapping me in the face. "No, uh, no."
This is nothing, I try to convince myself.
Just pretend you're wiping down the fridge, or the kitchen counter. And be quick about it. Efficient. It'll be over before you know it.
Of course, it's nothing like wiping down cold marble kitchen counter.
I only realize this seconds after I've squeezed a generous amount of the unscented body wash in my palms, replaced the bottle on the shelf, rubbed my hands together, and my fingers make first contact with Dayne's back.
He's hot to the touch.
Like cozy socks in front of a fire, toasty warm and the heat of him, the feel of hard muscles beneath the surface of his skin has me moving closer before I'm even aware of what I'm doing.
We shifters crave warmth. Maybe it's the wolf side of us making its presence known while we're in our human shape? I don't know.
Wolves in the wild will often sleep in a pile. Not just in winter for warmth, but it's more than that. It's something I've gone without over the years. Comfort. Touch.
I remember napping with the pack when my parents were still alive, and I never realized how much I missed the feeling until right this moment.
It's nearly overwhelming, this desire to socialize with another shifter-to connect, and I can't help but think that's what is triggering this need to press myself closer to Dayne and to rub myself against him.
I'm a second away from nuzzling my face against him when, thankfully, I come to my senses and jerk away. But Dayne reaches around and lazily snags my wrist before hauling me right back.
"If you keep drawing this out," he says gruffly, "you'll be late making the breakfast, and I'll have to punish you."
Punish me?
I can't help but blanch when I hear his words, and even though he's just warned me what will happen if I don't do what he says, I struggle to free myself from his tight grip and start backing away.
I'm shaking, and it isn't long before the scent of my fear floods the shower as my mind insists on showing me all the ways he could punish me.
Dayne's head snaps around, and then he's there, right there, pressing me against the wall, his body flush against mine as I shake, my eyes squeezed tightly closed and my face turned away from him, trying to make myself the smallest target possible.
Everything in me is tense, expectant, as I wait for the hammer to fall.
This is what I knew would happen all along. It was only a matter of time before Dayne showed me his true colors. Now I brace myself for the first slap, or punch, or kick.
He's younger and stronger than Uncle. A lot stronger. An alpha at peak physical fitness. Whatever he's going to do to me is going to hurt.
He bends his face closer to mine.
Even though my eyes are closed, I feel the intensity of his gaze on my face like a physical touch.
He moves closer, and I lean further back, my palms sliding on the wet stone as if in search of a way out, even though it's pointless. Not when there's a stone behind me and the solid wall of muscle that is Dayne in front.
In here, there's no escape.
His beard brushes along the side of my face and I suck in a breath, my heart lurching in terror.
He's going to bite me again, I guess, remembering how much it hurt the first time, bracing myself for it. He'll want to enforce his position as alpha.
I'm so sure this is going to happen, that I'm already tilting my head up and to the side, in preparation for his bite. But when he moves away from my exposed throat, I start to open my eyes.
I'm offering my throat. Why isn't he-
Soft, warm lips touch mine and move away.
I tear my eyes open in shock.
Did Dayne just…? Did he just kiss me?
He's staring down at me with eyes shifting from ice-blue to silver as if man and wolf are fighting for dominance. It should scare me, but I find the obvious presence of his wolf strangely comforting.
Maybe comforting isn't the right word.
But I'm not as afraid of the wolf as I am of the man, which no doubt is because of my uncle.
The cruelest things my uncle, and the rest of my pack did to me, were always when they were human, not wolf. It's not in their nature to torture you as a human would.
We stare at each other as the large rainfall showerhead continues to hit mostly Dayne's back. Bit by bit my fear recedes when he does nothing more than watch me.
But just like when I first caught sight of him before the moon-blessing ceremony, my eyes snag on his short dark beard. Even though it feels rough against my skin, I don't mind the roughness. In fact, I like it.
There's something about it that reminds me it's Dayne in front of me and not my uncle. I know he still has the capacity to really hurt me if he wants to, but he hasn't yet, so I cling to that, no matter how pathetic it makes me.
But that isn't why I'm staring at his beard. I want to touch it. His beard, that is. I want to rub my cheek against it, or maybe it's my wolf who craves it. I don't know.
When Dayne edges forward a step and his erection nudges against my lower belly, my eyes shoot to his face. He still has that same watchful look in his eyes, and it makes me desperate to know what he's thinking.
Does he want me? Or is he just reacting the way any man would when sharing a shower with a woman?
But I'm learning that reading Dayne is impossible since he keeps all his emotions locked away where I can't see it. So much so, it's like he's standing behind this big impenetrable wall so tall, and so wide, I can't catch the smallest peek of who he is.
I recognize there must be a man with human emotions somewhere back there. I've heard him laughing with his pack. I saw him smiling at Savannah.
Since his pack doesn't run screaming from him whenever he enters a room, and the house doesn't stink with fear, he must be a decent alpha. At least one who doesn't rule his pack with fear as uncle ruled mine.
Dayne's eyes dip to my mouth, and I know he's going to do it again.
Kiss me.
And my heart pounds again, but this time for a completely different reason.
I find I'm not horrified by the idea of him doing it. Even though I know he's a killer, my body doesn't seem to care about that. No, it's softening as Dayne leans even more of his hard body against me.
Once again, I feel his beard against my jaw as my eyes flicker closed and I go tense with anticipation. And then his lips touch mine at the same time his hand curves around my hip. To pull me closer or hold me still, I don't know. And I never find out, because that's when I hear her.
Savannah-laughing in the kitchen.
Kissing Dayne is suddenly the absolute last thing I want to do. Not when my mind is being overtaken by visions of Dayne and Savannah outside the farmhouse, looking poised to kiss each other. I'm imagining all the times they kissed before. Maybe even in this same shower, just as he's about to kiss me.
For a second, I think it's the water going cold, but it's not. It's me.
Slowly, Dayne raises his head to stare down at me. He must have guessed my thoughts as well. It wouldn't have been hard to guess why my body's gone from soft and welcoming to tense as quickly as it has.
But he surprises me by saying nothing.
Instead, after a moment that drags on and on, his hand falls away from my hip, and he turns to face the showerhead. "There's a run tonight. Don't be late."
Taking this as a sign he's letting me leave, I edge around him, and when he doesn't stop me, I slip out of the shower, grab my towel and make my escape.
The pack run is nothing like the last one.
This is more of a competition, according to Regan.
In the brief time we had to talk when she arrived at the farmhouse from working in town all day, she filled me in on other things as well. Things like what Savannah had to talk to Dayne about.
I came close to asking her about Savannah, and who she was to Dayne, but instead I chickened out. It would sound too much like me being jealous.
From what little she said before Dayne growled at her to go shift, Savannah, who lives in a cabin in the woods near the farmhouse, got back from a modeling job in Paris and found a strange shifter prowling around outside her cabin. Because she's the real deal apparently, an actual model with an agency and everything.
Which is the reason she came to the farmhouse and interrupted Dayne and me in the basement, and has been living in the house ever since. So, everyone's been busy comforting her, I guess.
God, that makes me sound like such a bitch.
But who wouldn't be if they had to listen to everyone around them having so much fun in the forests chasing each other and rolling around in the fall leaves and fresh sweet-smelling earth, while you sit on a dying tree trunk waiting until it's over so you're allowed to go back to the house?
I'm bored, cold, and I'm getting a headache from my wolf snapping at me to do something about Savannah, an unsurprisingly gorgeous blonde wolf who ends up nearly winning the pack race from the top of the mountain down to where I'm sitting near the lake, when she's tackled by Dayne who's in hot pursuit.
And then they're rolling around together, not even trying to hide how much fun they're having. This blonde model and Dayne.
My mate.
My wolf claws me so hard to get out, I grab at my stomach and glance down, expecting to find myself bleeding. But of course, there's nothing there. My wolf would never hurt me. No. She wants out so she can hurt her. Savannah.
I force her back.
My wolf isn't having any of it and is filling my head with snarls and growls loud enough to drown out everything around me.
"Stop it," I finally snap.
She settles down surprisingly quickly, and lifting my head I find Luka in wolf form, sitting on his haunches, staring at me from the edge of the forest.
Shit.
All I can do is hope he didn't scent I was on the cusp of shifting, and that he thinks I'm just crazily talking to myself, or I'd have some explaining to do.
Glancing over at Dayne and Savannah, I sigh in relief when I see them disentangling themselves from each other and make the mistake of lowering my guard, which is what my wolf was waiting for.
In that moment of inattention, she charges at the cage I've trapped her in so hard, the force of her attempt to break free catches me unaware.
I'm so terrified she's going to break free, I lose my balance and tumble off the tree stump with a scream I cut off too late and fall heavily to the ground.
At the sound of Dayne's low growl, I panic, which ramps up even more when I hear him charging over to me.
I need to do something about this.
Now.
I can't let him get to me with my wolf in my eyes. Desperately, I use brute force, ignoring my wolf snapping at me for manhandling her.
"Talis?" Being an alpha, his changes are much faster than the rest of the pack, and he can change on the move.
I don't answer since I'm still not confident I've won this battle with my wolf.
"Talis?" Dayne's hand on my shoulder warns me I've run out of time, especially when he helps me to my feet.
Taking a deep breath in, hoping my eyes are no longer wolf, I release it and raise my head to meet his eyes.
"I think I must have tripped over something. But I'm okay now," I say with false cheer.
As far as lies go, this is about as bad as any I've ever told, and from the twist of Dayne's lips, it's obvious he knows I'm lying.
I don't know if my scent changed enough for him to pick up the beginning of my change, but all I can do is hope he didn't, since the last thing I need are questions I can't answer about why I've locked my wolf in a cage which is crumbling down around her.