Page 10 of Fated to Him

She shrugs. “I don’t know. I wasn’t alive when it happened.”

“So he might still be alive?” I ask, sensing she’s holding something back.

She rolls her beautiful amber eyes. “Live, die. What difference does it make?”

I loosely collar my palm around her throat and angle her head up. This time I keep my hand there so she can’t look away.

“It makes a difference because you, Delilah Stacey, should have shifted the moment I bit you.” Her eyes widen, and I continue. “But you haven’t. So you must be fighting it. And the only way you could do that, the only way any human could, is if you were not as human as you always thought you were.”

This conversation isn’t easy to focus on when she’s sitting with her back flush to the wall in all her beautiful naked glory. She also doesn’t seem to realize the arm she’s using to cover her breasts isn’t doing as good a job as she thinks. A hint of rosy nipple tempts me to tug her arm away, dip my head, and taste.

But she’s still skittish. Even though I smell her desire for me, the time to touch, kiss, and taste isn’t now. That comes later. I only hope I can keep a tight rein on my wolf until she’s ready for me.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she whispers.

I’m not reading any deception in her, which only adds to my confusion. How can she still be human?

“How do you feel?” I ask, searching her face for signs her first shift is on its way.

I don’t see it.

There’s no flush to her cheeks other than from my licks that made her aroused. Her skin is warm to the touch but not feverish. Anger hasn’t drawn her wolf to the surface either, which it should have when she snapped at me. Most importantly, she still smells human, and she shouldn’t.

She shrugs. “Fine. The same as I always do.”

So her wolf hasn’t started vocalizing yet. Why the hell not? Her wolf must be itching to burst free and get her first taste of freedom. They always are. Delilah would have died behind the brewery if the bite hadn’t worked, so I know it isn’t that.

“Shift,” I quietly order, staring her dead in the eyes.

She meets my gaze steadily.

I lean closer, speaking louder now. “Shift. Now.”

At least I don’t have to worry about anyone overhearing us since we’re deep on Pack land at the edge of town. None of our neighbors live close enough to hear anything that goes on here.

Delilah grips my wrist with one hand and tugs. “Can you please stop with the intense staring?”

If Benji were here, he’d be gaping the way I am. All my packmates would.

A direct order from the Alpha always draws a submissive wolf to the surface. As the most dominant wolf in town, everyone is submissive to me. Delilah shouldn’t be shrugging off my order this easily. Only a dominant wolf could, and there’s no sign of any wolf in my mate.

Is she burying her wolf without realizing it? Or did something go wrong?

“You don’t feel the urge to do something?” I ask, still peering deep into her eyes.

She stops tugging my wrist when I refuse to release her. “Yes, but if I were to tell you what that was, you’d kill me.”

I cock my head, curious. “And that thing involves?”

“My knee in a sensitive place,” she says.

Swallowing my need to smile, I set aside my unease about Delilah’s missing wolf for the moment. She is a shifter, even if she doesn’t smell or behave like one yet. Maybe the issue is less about her and more about who her father was.

“Tell me about your dad,” I repeat.

“You think my dad was like you?” she asks, frowning.

I peel my hand from her throat and bury it in her long black hair with its gray and white tips. My wolf whimpers at the soft silk, wanting to inhale. “I’ve never seen hair like this on a regular human.”

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