Chapter 8

Colette was up with the dawn, practically vibrating with excitement. She was itching to get outside, to breathe in the fresh air and stretch her legs.

She knew Sorin didn’t want her to wander off or get lost, but he was coming with her. For some reason, though, he was still in bed. He was usually up before her, but today he was sleeping in.

She made her way to the bedroom, where he was still sprawled out on the bed. She wasn’t sure if he was actually asleep or just pretending to make her wait.

Colette approached the bed and leaned over Sorin’s sleeping form. He was shirtless, she noticed.

Her gaze drifted down his chest to the dark trail of hair that disappeared beneath his blanket. She wondered if he was wearing anything below the waist and bit her lower lip.

“I told you not to do that,” Sorin warned, his voice rough with sleep. His eyes had opened slightly, and he caught her staring at his lower body. “Do you want to see if I’m naked, my love?”

Her head whipped around to look at his face, and she gaped at him, mortified. “No,” she lied, feeling her cheeks heat up. “And don’t call me that.”

He sat up, clutching the edge of the blanket. She turned away before she could see anything, covering her eyes.

Strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her back against Sorin’s chest.

“I ~am~ wearing pants, my… ~Colette~,” he corrected himself before using a term of endearment. He nuzzled his nose into the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent.

She squirmed out of his hold and gave him a strange look. “Please stop. Why do you keep doing this to me?” she demanded.

He looked taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“Stop acting like that. Please. I know I’m just some girl you want to fuck, but we’re strangers and I’m ~not~ going to sleep with you. No matter how much you try to call me cute names and show me affection,” she snapped, storming out of the room.

He followed her. “That’s not what’s happening here, my—” ~Damn.~ “—Colette.”

“Then what is?” she asked, spinning around to face him. “We don’t know each other. So please stop acting like we do. I will be going home at some point, and we will ~never~ see each other again.”

~Wrong.~ That was so wrong. She would never be rid of Sorin. He didn’t just choose her.

Mother Luna knows everything about all of her children. She chose Colette for him and him for Colette. He couldn’t just let her go. Not for anything.

“I’m just…starting to care for you,” he tried to explain.

She scoffed. “We haven’t known each other for even two weeks. You couldn’t possibly care for me,” she spat, convinced he was only saying these things to get into her pants.

She was wrong. Not only was two weeks enough for mates to fall completely in love, but typically they saw their first positive pregnancy test by then. He was starting to care for her.

At first, he just wanted her body and to protect her because she was his, but now it was more than that. It wasn’t real love. Not yet.

“I’m sorry that you feel that way, Colette,” he said, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”

She was silent for a moment. “I want my clothes, Sorin. Even if I planned to run away, you don’t have the right to take my stuff. I’m an adult. I can decide to leave if I want.”

He nodded, his head hanging low with shame as he climbed the stairs. He returned after a few long minutes with a pile of her things. “I’m sorry that I—”

Colette grabbed them from his hands and rushed back into his room to change into her own clothes. She came out later, dressed in her own clothes. She wore tight jeans tucked into sturdy boots and a fur-lined coat with a long-sleeve shirt underneath.

“I want to go out now. If you don’t trust me, you can come with me,” she snapped.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her. It was more that he didn’t trust her ability to find her way back. Plus, he just liked being around her. “I’ll go with you. Just give me a minute to get ready.”

“A minute,” she retorted. “After that, I’m leaving without you.”

Soon, they were out the door.

It was supposed to be a quick walk, or at least that’s what Sorin had thought. Clearly, Colette had other plans. She just kept walking, going further and further, saying she needed to stretch her legs and that she had “cabin fever.”

“Colette,” he tried again, “we really should head back.” They’d been walking for a long time, and Sorin was starting to smell another presence in the woods.

Colette ignored his concerns. “I used to go on walks with my sister,” she said cheerfully. “She used to be so spiritual before she got married. Motherhood dulled her.” She sighed. “I don’t know if I want kids,” she mused, cupping her chin in her hand.

Sorin would be fine either way. He just knew he wanted to practice making them with her. “Are you spiritual? Religious, maybe?”

“Uh, no.” She laughed. “Maybe agnostic.” She shrugged.

“Your sister…” he prompted, enjoying her sharing about herself.

“Giselle and I used to be tight, but she’s got her own world now,” she shared, a hint of melancholy in her tone. “She’s a mom to six kids.” She turned her head sharply towards him. “Six,” she exclaimed. “If I ever ~chose~ to have kids, I wouldn’t dream of having six. I’m not even sure she’s done.” She gave a nonchalant shrug. “Seems like she’s been having one every year since she tied the knot.”

He let her words wash over him, her voice a soothing melody, but he was alert enough to notice the intensifying scent. It was the unmistakable aroma of a male wolf, but not from Sorin’s pack. He could sense they were being stalked.

Their pursuer was closing the gap. He didn’t recognize the scent. It was vaguely familiar, as if he’d encountered a relative before, but this particular individual was a mystery.

His steps halted at the sight of blood. The vibrant red was a stark contrast against the snow, splattered on a bush. His fingers grazed a leaf, the tips stained with blood. He brought it to his nose: elk blood. But why was there—

A spine-chilling scream reverberated through the forest. His head jerked up to locate Colette, but she was no longer where he’d left her. She had vanished.