Page 19 of Fated to Him

I catch her easily, setting her down but leaving my hands around her waist. It’s not just a need to touch her, though it is a little of that too. It’s the need to reassure myself—and my wolf—that my mate is safe.

“What happened?” I ask quietly.

She shrugs and backs up, a sign for me to let her go.

My fingers tighten around her waist as I step toward her, closing the distance she created between us. Letting go of my mate isn’t easy. I doubt it ever will be.

“He lunged at me. I screamed and climbed a tree.” She retreats again.

I refuse to let her go. She hasn’t been in my arms for nearly long enough yet. “Why do I think you’re leaving a lot out?”

She studies me with her serious amber eyes. “Wolves have sensitive hearing, so I backed up until I hit a tree. I decided to wait until he attacked me and then scream as loud as I could.”

I cock my head, curious. Delilah isn’t just calm, she sounds like she had a whole plan worked out. Which is not a normal response when a wolf attacks. Is her lack of fear another sign her dad was a shifter?

“And then?”

“It worked,” she says. “I was hoping he’d smash into the tree and knock himself out. When he flinched away, I climbed the tree and grabbed anything I could to throw at him.”

“And the continued screaming?” I ask, impressed despite myself. “What was that about?”

Her lips tighten in anger. “Like I said, I heard wolves have sensitive hearing. If he was going to attack me, I was going to make his ears bleed.”

My wolf growls his approval. She’s still more human than a shifter, yet she didn’t need to be a wolf to protect herself.

She finds her own ways of protecting herself, like her tripping habit. I don’t understand those habits, but they work for her.

I’m going to enjoy leading the pack with you, Delilah Stacey.

“How did you know to do that?” I ask.

She shrugs as if single-handedly fighting off a wolf attack is nothing. “People like to point out that my hair looks like a wolf's tail. Or a skunk. Occasionally they’ll tell me something they picked up on some nature show they watched.”

“Like the fact that a wolf has sensitive hearing.”

She nods. “You shouldn’t turn your back on them or run. You climb up high or get to the nearest place of safety. And they told me skunks hiss or stomp their feet before they spray you.”

They hiss?

Delilah grips my wrist and tugs. Another sign to release her. I ignore it. “They do?”

“Mostly, they’re just trying to protect their young. They’re actually friendly.” She frowns at me. Probably because I’m refusing to let her go. “The guy who told me about the hissing wasn’t holding back with the Jägermeister, though. At one point, he thought we were talking about squirrels, so don’t hold me to that.”

I nod, wanting to drag her close and kiss her. But if simply gripping her waist is making her pull away, I don’t know what that would do to her. Her stepfather hurt her, and guys like Jerry Watkins wouldn’t have given her a reason to trust men.

“Smart,” I say, finally releasing her.

A warm, rosy flush sweeps over her cheeks. I take in her response to my compliment, and I think about what else I can say—and do—to see that spot of color again.

“Not really.” She turns back to the cabin. “Since you seem determined to run me down, I guess you want me to go back.”

Before she can take two steps, I snag her wrist and tug her back, our bodies nearly colliding.

Her breath catches.

This close, with her lush wildflower and honey scent enveloping me, she can’t fail to miss my response to her. And there is one. A big one. “I said it was smart. Take the compliment.”

“You like to give orders.” She scowls.

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