Chapter 20 20
And me? I should’ve looked away. Should’ve respected her. Should’ve left.
I didn’t.
Awkward? That doesn’t cover it. Hell. It was hell.
She glared at me from beneath the hem of that darn shirt, hair dripping down her back like wildfire made flesh. She thought she was punishing me with her pettiness. Truth was, I’d never wanted anyone more.
Every step back I told myself to focus. On the bear earlier. On the training. On anything other than the way her legs peeked out beneath my shirt. But my wolf was pacing. Restless. Whispering mine with every breath she took.
By the time we reached the cottage, Nonna was waiting at the door like a tiny general, wooden spoon raised.
We were dripping river water and radiating enough awkward tension to choke a dragon, my wolf was clawing inside me like
“And you—Alpha boy—why is she wearing your shirt, huh?” Nonna asked.
I opened my mouth, but Marigold cut me off with that wicked tongue of hers.
“Because he wanted an excuse to strip, Nonna. Typical male ego.”
I nearly choked.
“You were naked first!” I growled.
“And you didn’t complain,” she shot back, smirking under my shirt.
Nonna smacked me across the head with her spoon before I could reply. “Behave! Both of you! No naked shenanigans in my river!”
Saints save me.
Marigold’s laughter rang out like a dagger to my composure, bright and sharp, as if she hadn’t just nearly been eaten alive. She was fire. Untamed. Infuriating. Irresistible.
I wore nothing but leaves covering my private part.
Marigold wore my shirt. My shirt. Oversized, damp, clinging to her curves in ways that made me curse my own generosity. I gave it to her because I wasn’t about to let her prance naked back into the house. Now? Now it felt like I’d stripped myself of armor and handed her the dagger to gut me with.
Inside the small living room. Nonna whacked me on the head with her wooden spoon. Smack.
“Idiot! Look at her! Scratched, bruised, and freezing, and you bring her back looking like drowned rats. Some Alpha you are!”
I growled low in my throat. “Nonna, she—”
“Don’t you Nonna me.” She shoved a steaming mug into Marigold’s hands, glaring at me like I was twelve again and caught stealing bread. “Drink this, cara. It will warm you.” The old woman hissed, “you cover yourself, you look like drenched Tarzan. Zach has pants somewhere in his room. Take it.”
Marigold grinned, smug as hell, sipping from the mug while perched on a chair like she owned the place. My shirt hung past her thighs, sleeves rolled up sloppily, and she looked far too comfortable. “See, Alpha. Some people know how to treat me with basic decency.”
I leaned against the wall, still half naked, arms crossed, trying not to watch her bare legs swinging. “Basic decency? That was me, or did you forget whose shirt you’re drowning in?”
She tilted her head, mischief dancing in her eyes. “Oh, I didn’t forget. I just like reminding you it fits me better.”
My wolf snarled, heat rushing through me. She had no idea what she was playing with. Then I walked to Zach old room.
Nonna, meanwhile, was fussing like a storm, dabbing some salve on Marigold’s scratches. “Hold still, ragazza. Your wolf is strong, but even strong wolves need care.”
A few minutes later. I was dressed with an old shirt and cargo pants and back in the living room.
“Ow!” Marigold yelped dramatically, then turned to me, eyes narrowed. “She’s stabbing me with herbs!”
“She’s healing you,” I muttered, jaw tight.
Marigold smirked. “Easy for you to say, Mr. Shirtless, no wounds. Your wolf jumped the crocodile like it was nothing while I was over here fighting for my modesty.”
My lips twitched despite myself. “You were the one parading in the river like it was a runway.”
Her jaw dropped. “I was swimming! Natural, serene, graceful—”
“—distracting,” I cut in, my voice low, before I caught myself.
Nonna raised her spoon like a weapon, squinting between us. “Distracting, eh? Dio mio. You two will burn my cottage down with this tension.”
Marigold flushed, glaring at me, but her smirk was back in seconds. “Hear that, Alpha? Even Nonna thinks you can’t handle me.”
My wolf bristled. Can’t handle her? He wanted to claim her, to sink teeth into the delicate curve where her neck met her shoulder. I clenched my fists until my claws almost broke skin, forcing him back.
Instead, I stalked closer, lowering my voice so only she could hear. “Careful, Marigold. You have no idea how close I am to proving otherwise.”
Her breath hitched—just for a second—before she masked it with sass. “Please. The only thing you’ve proved is that you laugh at naked women fighting crocodiles.”
That made me chuckle. A real one. Deep and unwilling. “That’s because you scream louder than the crocodile.”
Nonna smacked me again with the spoon. Smack. “Basta! Enough. If you two keep bickering like children, I’ll tie you together and throw you back in the river to cool off.”
Marigold looked at me then, and gods help me, she winked at me and I almost wished Nonna would.
Marigold POV
For the first time in what felt like decades, the world actually… slowed. No running through forests. No sparring disasters. No bears. No crocodiles. Just the crackle of Nonna’s fire, the smell of herbs drifting from her endless pots, and the soft glow that made her little cottage feel like some enchanted fairytale nook.
I sat curled up on the rug, wearing his shirt—because of course the universe decided my wardrobe was now reduced to one oversized Alpha hand-me-down. It hung off me like a nightgown, and every time Gregor’s eyes flicked over in my direction, I tugged it tighter just to annoy him.
Not that he’d admit to staring. Oh no. He was brooding in the corner, big wolf energy radiating like a damn space heater, pretending to whittle at a piece of wood Nonna gave him. His jaw was tense, his eyes darker than the firelight, his wolf clearly pacing just under the surface.
I blew on my tea dramatically. “You know, Alpha, it’s rude to glare at someone like they stole your favorite bone.”
His head snapped up, eyes narrowing. “I’m not glaring.”
“Please,” I snorted. “You’ve been burning holes into my shirt all night. Afraid I’ll stretch it out?”
His lips twitched—betrayal!—but he went back to carving. “Afraid you’ll tempt fate.”
“Tempt fate?” I raised a brow. “What, by existing? Breathing? Sipping tea? Wow, your standards for disaster are low.”
Nonna cackled from her rocking chair. “Ah, ragazza, you poke the wolf, and then you act surprised when he growls.” She wagged her spoon at me, eyes glinting with that eerie knowing she carried. “But maybe that is your role, sì? To make the wolf see what he hides from himself.”
That made Gregor snap his head up, frowning. “Nonna.”
But she just kept rocking, muttering in Italian under her breath before adding, “Fire and shadow, chasing and colliding. You two will bring either salvation… or ruin.”
I blinked. “Well, thanks for the bedtime story. Nothing screams ‘sweet dreams’ like impending ruin.”
Gregor shot me a look—half warning, half something else I didn’t want to name—but Nonna just kept rocking, spoon tapping her knee like some cryptic metronome.
I curled deeper into the rug, my body finally surrendering to exhaustion. My wolf grumbled, satisfied for now after today’s chaos, but some part of me stayed on edge. The shirt smelled like him—cedar, storm, and danger. The fire was warm. My eyelids were heavy.
And in the corner, I could feel Gregor’s eyes on me again, no matter how hard he tried to act like he was focused on his stupid whittling.
For one rare, stolen moment, it almost felt… safe. Maybe even peaceful.
The calm before the storm.