Page 11 of Fated to Him

Her lip quirks, drawing my attention to the rosebud top. I throttle my growing desire for her. Every part of her is a temptation that, as time passes, will become increasingly impossible to ignore. I have to claim her. And soon.

She arches a dark brow. “Regular human?”

“There’s nothing regular about you, Delilah Stacey.” Everything about you is special.

And mine.

“Everyone calls me Della. How did you know my name?” she asks, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

“The same way I get anything I want. People give it to me.” I let a little more of my wolf out in a growl. “Stop delaying. Tell me about your dad.”

She holds my gaze for five seconds. It’s approximately four more seconds than a new shifter should be able to hold an Alpha’s stare, making me wonder all over again what her story is.

Then she trains those beautiful amber eyes over my shoulder. “I never knew him. Mom said he was a short-term fling. When she went to tell him she was pregnant, his landlord told her that he’d gone out one night and left all his stuff behind. Even his wallet. The landlord tried to track him down, even notified the cops, but no one ever saw him again.”

“He had no family?” I ask.

Or pack.

Delilah shakes her head. “No. Mom said it was just him.”

I frown. No shifter takes off like that. And especially not leaving all his stuff behind. If he’d been a lone wolf, as he must have been, not to have a pack around, anything he had would be priceless. He could have died, but shifters are hard to kill.

“And then?” I ask, sensing there’s more to this story.

She moves to get up. “That’s it. If we’re done, I’d?—”

I grip her arm and nudge her back, holding her against the wall. “We’re done when I say we’re done. Where was this, Delilah?”

“Della,” she corrects me. “Everyone calls me Della.”

“Everyone but me. Talk.”

She takes a deep breath, releases it, and says, “Pennsylvania.”

The next state over. Good. At least it’s not across the country. When I investigate Delilah’s father, it won’t take me far away from home.

“And the reason you left?” I ask, but I think I can guess. That tripping habit to avoid men touching her had to come from somewhere.

Or someone.

“Has nothing to do with you.” She points her chin up, her posture combative.

And yet, there’s still no sign of her wolf.

Where the fuck is she hiding?

“It has everything to do with me. You don’t like to be touched. Why?” I demand.

She gives my hand a pointed stare and raises her brow.

I ignore her silent plea to release her. “Talk, Delilah.”

After another long stare, she sighs. Something in her expression shifts. It’s a subtle change, but I catch it. Pain. Because I see it—and I’d do anything to take it away—when she closes her hand around my wrist and tugs, I let go.

“It was just Mom and me for a while. A long while, actually. Things were good. And then Levi came along,” she says quietly.

“Levi was your mom’s…boyfriend?”

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