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Chapter 4 - Skye

Men like Troy weren’t my type.

That thought spun around in my head while his tongue plunged into my mouth and his hands danced over the small of my back. He wasn’t my type. He was just another guy.

But he wasn’t just another guy. He wasn’t inconsiderate, and he didn’t have a sense of entitlement billowing around him like a lot of men did in the college scene. He was a leader. He was a solution-oriented shifter. He was a wolf.

Most of the college dudes I picked up from the bar were loose- mouthed trust fund babies looking for a good time. That meant no strings, which gave me a lot of wiggle room to get away with things. Grab a few free drinks, hook up, and then go on with our lives like we weren’t going to awkwardly slide past each other at the bar again in a few weeks.

I liked cute men. But Troy wasn’t cute. He was a chiseled Greek statue glistening with heroic qualities good enough for an epic poem. I couldn’t handle how much he wanted to fly in and save me—and at the same time, I was gushing enough to cause embarrassment. If I didn’t

change my underwear now, it might soak through my leggings.

There was no way a guy like Troy could make a difference in my life that some skeezeball at a bar couldn’t also accomplish. At least at the bar, I had the chance of getting the beer without the bullshit. Troy came with attachments.

Like a whole damn pack.

His kiss deepened when I thought about his loss. Just for a second, it felt like maybe he had slithered into the darkness of my mind and sensed

what was going on in there. Everything was cloudy from where I was pinned to the wall, but my thoughts were clear as day, brimming with a hot shimmer like that of a sunbeam streaking through a puddle of oil.

He drew out the colors. He swirled the iridescent glow into the muddy liquid.

The same thing happened as had happened the day before at dinner.

Troy made me drop everything, even my hands. As the kiss lingered, lessening in power yet hardly losing its influence, I found myself sighing into him and wanting more. His arms circled me, and his embrace kept me from wavering. I couldn’t if I tried.

No longer did it feel like he was clutching me. But that wasn’t what I wanted. I needed him to hang on to me like we were both about to lose our heads. The silence of the stables provided the perfect backdrop, interrupted every so often by the sound of a horse rearranging their stance or the

workers outside cracking a joke. Distant laughter floated through the windows.

I opened my eyes. Troy observed me like he was etching my image into his memory. That was just impossible to process—that any man would want to do a thing like that. Even my ex-boyfriend from the state college hadn’t ever looked at me like this. Nah, Oscar had never been starry-eyed with me. The closest he had gotten was when I’d stayed up late with him to help him study for his chem exam and he had looked dreamy. But not because he was in love. Just because he was sleepy.

Troy wasn’t either of those things, dreamy or sleepy. He looked downright enamored with his eyes shimmering like that. The way he held my hips and swayed with me toward the shadowy parts of the stable and into an unused stall with a gaping view of the field beyond reminded me of something I had felt once in a dream.

Alright, so maybe he was a little bit dreamy right now, but only by interpretation. He was just acting like a memory of a memory. He was making me feel like I didn’t make any sense.

And yet, everything made sense. Troy’s attention to detail and his insistence on saving me were things that Emmett had mentioned a good mate would do. However nice it felt, I didn’t want a good mate. I didn’t want my life to be more complicated than it was currently—working as a

field manager and studying myself into a stupor each night. I had exams to pass. I had quizzes to ace.

“What are you doing?” I asked, though it was less of a whisper and more of a sigh.

Troy dragged his hand up to my cheek and draw immeasurable

shapes on my skin. Loving, light touch hadn’t ever made my heart quiver like this. It was odd, and I didn’t want it to end despite the unfamiliarity of it all.

“I can’t help it,” he admitted. “You’re just…” “I’m just easy. Is that it?”

When his brows knit together, I knew I’d said the wrong thing. But what did he expect? He was so much older than me and so much more

experienced. I knew that look he was giving me—the hungry one. He

wanted to rail me right here, right now. I wasn’t dumb and naïve. I was also possibly as wound up and horny as he was.

I mean, it wouldn’t be awful to sample the goods, I thought. If we’re supposed to be mates, then we can take it for a spin.

Troy ran his fingers through my hair. His muscles relaxed as his grip loosened. He didn’t let me go but he also wasn’t holding me in place. He

was just holding me.

That was different.

I gulped. “Sorry, I’m used to being treated a certain way.” “I don’t see you as a toy.”

Were my thoughts that obvious? “I don’t mind sometimes.” He raised a curious brow. “Sometimes?”

“Well, I—”

“Skye, I’m not going to assume what you like or don’t like.”

My throat clenched up. A wave of something—a memory, a feeling, a reminder of the past—crashed into me like a meteor finally contacting the earth. I wanted to cry. I wanted to let everything out, to tell Troy every

secret emotion and thought. My past dates had never inspired me to open up.

So, why was Troy making me feel like this? Why was he making me feel safe?

Damn that juniper nonsense, I thought. And the tobacco. I can still smell it.

I breathed deep to check that I wasn’t losing my mind. Yep, it was

still there—the sweet, earthy aroma of freshly harvested tobacco. There was a hint of clove, maybe mint. Under that was a more specific musk,

something unique that lured me in like a fish on a hook.