Several hours later, I'm starting to get hungry when footsteps approaching the cabin let me know that Luka is here.
Despite Savannah's insistence that Luka would be grumpy at learning I'd spoken with her and not him, he sounds cheerful as he calls out a greeting.
"While I'm a little mad that you didn't talk to me, it's okay. I'll forgive you if I can get a hello," he says as I hear him place a plastic bag on the doorstep.
I stare at the wooden door for several seconds in silence, and then I grip the door handle and pull it open.
He's still bent over the bag. Slowly, he rises, his eyes never moving from mine as his lips curve in a smile. "Even better," he murmurs. "I'm no longer jealous of Savannah."
I try not to feel pleased that he cares about me talking to him, or that there's undisguised interest stirring in his eyes. But I fail.
I am pleased.
"You can sit again," I tell him. "I mean, if you want."
He surprises me by not moving to enter the cabin. Instead, he retreats a few steps back and lowers himself to the ground just outside, on grass that I hope has dried after the storm the other night.
"I didn't think the ground was dry."
He grins at me as he stretches his legs out in front, using his arms to prop himself up. "It isn't."
I stare at him some more before I clear my throat. "I didn't mean you had to sit on wet ground."
"It's not wet. Just a little damp." The amusement in his voice fades. "And I thought you'd feel a little better with me out here, and you in there. Was I wrong?"
As I study him, I realize that not only is he observant, but he knows how to read a situation in a second. Namely that while my fear isn't making me run from him, it's still there, lurking beneath the surface.
"No," I agree quietly. "You weren't wrong."
He nods at the bag still sitting on the doorstep. "It's a Mexican casserole. I hope you don't mind spicy."
I shake my head. "No, I like spicy."
When he says nothing else, I bend my attention to the bag. Once I've picked it up, I back up into the cabin. Since I know the door will slam shut the second I let go of it, I scan the floor beside the door, and almost immediately spot a wooden block that I can use to wedge the door open.
Finished with my small task, I sink to the floor cross-legged and reach for the bag. "You don't have to keep bringing me food," I say with a bent head. "It's enough you giving me somewhere to stay for a couple of days."
"No can do. It's part of the package."
I lift my gaze from the large steaming container I've pulled out so I can meet his eyes. "Package?"
He shifts to sit cross-legged and counts off with his fingers as he speaks. "A place to stay, a homemade meal for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, company while you eat if you want it-though if you met one of my packmates, Nathan, you'd get it even if you didn't-and no questions."
His last comment immediately captures my interest. "No questions?"
"You can ask questions of me, but I can't ask any of you."
I do nothing to hide my confusion. "I don't understand. Why can't you ask me questions?"
His expression turns sober. "That's just how it is. Those are the rules."
Despite my initial determination to only open the door so I could find out what Luka and this pack knew-and were doing about the feral running loose-I find myself wanting to talk more, wanting him to talk more.
"And who made those rules?"
He shrugs. Dressed in a gray t-shirt and blue jeans, and looking relaxed despite sitting on what he's admitted is damp ground, I have no doubt that in time the moisture is going to permeate through his jeans. "That's just what the rules are. Your eyes are unusual."
His comment throws me a little, since I wasn't expecting it. I lower my head to my meal, and after removing the container lid, spend the first couple of seconds inhaling the scent of a meat Mexican casserole oozing with cheese and spicy enchilada sauce.
"They're just eyes."
"I've never seen anyone with one blue and one green before. They're beautiful."
As I try to figure out how to respond to his unexpected compliment, he speaks again. "I'm guessing you found everything okay in the cabin?"
When I lift my head, he immediately holds both hands out in a placating gesture. "I know, I know. No questions. But directions and where things are don't count."
I can't stop a smile from forming, because he's not behaving the way Frank, the Stone pack beta, ever did. "Who made that rule?"
His gaze dips to my lips. "Same person who made the others."
"But you don't know who that person is?" I ask, with a raised eyebrow to communicate my disbelief.
The wide-eyed innocence on his face would fool no one. "Not a clue."
After shaking my head, I retrieve the fork Luka packed with the casserole, as well as a bottle of water. It takes one bite before I'm ready to tell Luka to go so I can get busy shoving the rest of the contents in my mouth as fast as humanly possible. It's that good.
The next couple of minutes pass in silence as I eat. Once my belly doesn't feel quite so hollow, I lower my fork. "Yeah, I found everything okay."
After Savannah left, I took advantage of the hot water and spent far longer in the shower than I should in a cabin run with generators. I spent even longer hesitating over accepting Savannah's offer of clothes and nearly pulled back on my threadbare jeans and t-shirt.
But then I caught a whiff of clothes I haven't had the opportunity to wash as often as I would've liked. So, I picked out what looked like the oldest pair of jeans and a flannel shirt instead. Since I don't plan on taking anything with me when I leave, I shoved my clothes in the washing machine before leaving them to dry in the bathroom.
"You know, Savannah wouldn't mind you picking out anything else to wear."
I snort. "I read the labels. She would mind."
"Considering some of her modeling assignments involved her hanging off a balcony several floors high, I'm telling you she wouldn't mind if you helped yourself to clothes given to her as payment for risking her neck."
I stop eating to gape at him. "What?"
He nods. "Yeah, they had her hanging off a building in front of the Eiffel Tower-in heels, no less. Although they paid her well, there's a reason Savannah left all those clothes behind when she moved out."
I whistle. "Wow, I never imagined being a model could be so dangerous."
"You and me both."
As I return to my quickly disappearing casserole, my mind goes back to the real reason I opened the door to Luka. After a few bites, keeping my gaze on my meal, I speak. "You said I could ask you questions."
His response is immediate. "Ask away."
I play with my food. "About anything?"
"As long as it's not about whether my ass is wet, shoot."
I dart a glance up at him and find him grinning at me. "But is it?"
"Yep."
It takes everything not to laugh out loud, because he's making it impossible not to-and not just laugh, but to not like him.
But I can't.
It's one thing opening the door and talking about things that don't matter, but some things just can't happen. Even if he is easy to like.
"Savannah said you went on an errand today."
He nods. "Yeah, in town. Had to stock up the refrigerator."
"You pick up the food?" Although I try to imagine Frank doing it, I can't. He viewed any domestic chore like that as women's work, and he wasn't the only guy to think that way.
"Sure. Normally Talis would go on a Friday to talk to her friend, but obviously, she's a little busy right now." His eyes dance with laughter. "So, even though it's a couple of days away until our big grocery pick-up, with so many of us in the house, we're going through the food faster than we usually would."
My fork halts inches from my mouth. I start to lower it. "I'm sorry, I didn't-"
Luka's snort silences me. "Oh, you're not the big eater. That title falls to Savannah's mate, Jeremy. He can inhale a loaf of bread in a minute." He pauses. "No, under five seconds."
"She said they were back from Paris."
"And neither one of them is sharing why that is. It's a surprise."
But she shared the reason with me. Why would she do that?
Guiltily, I look away. "Oh."
"Yes," Luka murmurs.
When I peek up at him through my eyelashes, he's observing me speculatively. Before he can say any more, despite him promising not to ask me any questions, I return to the topic at hand. "So you weren't here, then? In the forest?"
His eyes sharpen. "No. Why? Was there someone in the forest?"
"No, just curious." I go back to playing with my food. "I thought you weren't going to ask me questions."
"And I did. I'm sorry, won't happen again."
"Because of the rules?"
"Because of the rules," he echoes a second later.
"And who will punish you for breaking them?"
"You get to demand something of me as payback. And I have to agree."
I lift my head. "You know, you sound like you're just making this up as you go along."
"It does, doesn't it?" He grins.
At the sound of a vicious swear, I jerk my head toward where it's coming from. "You are never coming near me again, Dayne. Never mind touching me. I swear it."
Luka gets to his feet with an apologetic smile. "See, I told you there was swearing. I better get back and see if Dayne and Savannah need help."
I give him a quizzical look.
"The alpha, and Savannah, you met. We're taking turns being with Talis, who's in labor. She has a temper, so this way if she loses it and kills us, she won't wipe out the entire pack in one fell swoop."
I'm still trying to work out if he's being serious, and why Talis would want to kill them, when he waves. "I'll see you at breakfast."
As he walks away, I can't help but lower my eyes to his jeans, and sure enough, he has a serious wet patch that has me smiling as I shake my head.
With the door open, I enjoy the cool air and the sight of the evening sky darkening into night as I finish my meal. After, I rise and close the door before seeing if there's anything I want to watch on TV.
Later, as I'm close to drifting off, something, some small sound, has me lifting my head from where I'm laying on the couch and toward the cabin door. Instantly, the need to sleep evaporates and I'm wide awake and alert.
For several seconds, I don't move. I just listen.
It doesn't take me long to realize what I'm hearing; an animal rapidly approaching. While it's still a little way off, it's closing the distance-fast.
I scramble to my feet and sprint for the door.
Before I even get past the coffee table, I trip on the plastic bag filled with water and snacks that Savannah brought with the lasagne, which I was planning on taking to the kitchen.
The bag goes one way as I crash-land in another. It doesn't hurt, but the surprise of being upwardly mobile and then suddenly not leaves me stunned enough that I don't immediately get back to my feet.
Since I don't have time to lay there, I clamber back to my feet, my heart pounding as I throw myself at the door.
A second later, something hits it hard enough to send me skidding back as the door opens a crack. It's looking like this wolf is a million times more determined to get in after having failed before.
I plant my bare feet on the wood floor and lean hard against the door to force it closed. The wolf hits it again, making the door rattle, but at least it stays closed this time.
Nothing about the snarling wolf and its eagerness to get in tells me it's going to be leaving anytime soon. That there was no yummy food on the doorstep to lure it to the cabin confirms in my mind that the thing it wants is me. Whether to eat me or just rip me apart, I don't have a clue, since this is my first run-in with a feral wolf.
Whatever the reason is, it can't have me.
I grit my teeth and shove back. Not after I spent years running and hiding. Not after I finally found somewhere safe to stay for a couple of days, and not when I finally found someone who made me laugh, and I'd like to know if he can do it again when he brings me breakfast, or if it was just a one-time-lucky thing.
I start to get concerned about just how much abuse it can take before the door either breaks, or it flattens me.
It feels like this moment will never end. The wolf hits the door; I brace my weight against it to stop it from flying open. We repeat this dance, again and again. Time ceases to matter as we battle over the door.
The next time I move to brace the door, nothing happens.
I wait for several more seconds because although I don't scent the wolf any more, that doesn't mean it hasn't backed up to take a running start. The thought terrifies me enough that I start looking for something to block the entrance.
But, not wanting to move too far away, my eyes land on the doorstop I used when Luka was here. Once I've shoved the wood under the door, hoping it's enough, I drop to the floor.
It's darker now than it was before, and I have no idea if I was battling with the wolf for thirty minutes, an hour, or more. It feels like more.
As I take in the plastic bottles of water scattered across the floor, I have a moment of realization. "They don't know about the wolf. Which means I have to be the one to tell them."
And I'll do that. Tomorrow. First thing.
Right after I wait another hour to be sure the wolf is gone, retrieve a blanket from the couch, and spend the night sleeping in front of the door.
Although an hour passes, I still don't move.