Page 26 of Riding with the Rejected Wolf

“What?” he says out loud. “It’s part of our bond.”

“Does this mean you can talk to me even when you’re a wolf now?”

“Sure does.”

“That’s a shame. I kind of liked it when you couldn’t talk back.”

He barks out a laugh, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Too bad, sweetheart. You’re stuck with me now, shared thoughts and all."

I roll my eyes but can’t suppress my smile. “Great. Just what I needed—a furry, back-talking boyfriend.”

“Mate,” he corrects, stepping closer, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Big difference.”

I snort, shaking my head. “Semantics.”

He tilts my chin up with a gentle but firm touch, his thumb brushing my jawline. “Nope. Mate means forever. You’re mine, Mika Braddish. Forever.”

Forever. That word sends a shiver down my spine, but not the bad kind. Not the kind that makes me want to pack up and vanish into another alias. This shiver is different—electric, grounding.

"Guess I'll just have to get used to it," I murmur, leaning into his touch. His fingers trail down to my neck, grazing the mark he left. It tingles, and I bite back a smile.

“You’re already used to it,” he says, his voice dropping an octave. “In fact, I think it turns you on. I can feel it.”

"Damn werewolf senses," I mutter, but my heart isn't in it. The truth is his touch does spark something deep inside me, something I can't run from—or maybe don't want to.

"Admit it," he teases, leaning closer until his breath mingles with mine. "You like the idea of forever with me.”

“OK,” I say. “I do. But there is one problem with it.”

He quirks a brow. “Yeah? What’s that?”

“Forever isn’t long enough.”

His smile widens, and he pulls me into his arms, his warmth enveloping me. "Well, aren’t you just the sweetest,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

I nestle against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. It’s strange how quickly this hardened biker with a wolfish secret has become my safe haven.

“So, what now?” I ask, my voice muffled by his leather jacket. “You gonna show me how to ride a bike?”

He scoffs. “A bike? Sweetheart, that ‘bike’ is a Harley and she roars like a lion.”

I pull back, looking up into his eyes. “I stand corrected. But that doesn’t answer the riding question.”

Silas grins and steps back, grabbing the last of our scattered belongings with practiced ease. He slings both of our packs over one shoulder, and holds out his free hand to me. I take it without hesitation, the connection between us humming with an unspoken promise.

“Well?” I say. “Will you teach me or not?”

“Not,” he says as we start our hike back to town.

“Why not?”

“Because your place is on the back of my bike, hanging on tight with those gorgeous thighs of yours. You need a set of wheels, I’ll get you a car to drive.”

I punch his arm playfully, his muscles hard as stone beneath my knuckles. “You’re such a caveman, you know that?”

“Cavemen don’t ride Harleys,” he retorts, giving me a playful wink. "Besides, I’m not sure the world is ready to see you unleashed on two wheels just yet."

We continue our trek through the woods, and by the time we emerge from the forest at the edge of town, the sun has already started to wake up and lighten the sky. Silas holds my hand, his grip firm and reassuring, as we approach a sleek black motorcycle. It gleams in the morning light, a symbol of freedom and a future I had never dared to dream of.

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