Page 8 of Riding with the Rejected Wolf

She rolls her eyes, though I catch the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. "Don't push your luck, hero. You want to stay dry or not?"

"Lead the way," I say, grinning. She turns and heads down a barely visible path through the trees, her steps quick and purposeful. I follow, keeping an eye on her in case she trips or changes her mind.

Her cabin comes into view, and we barely make it inside before the storm hits with full force, the rain coming down in fierce sheets.

Inside, it's cool and dry. I find some wood and use a bit of flint from my pack to start a small fire in the hearth while she potters about in the kitchen.

I watch as she moves around, her hands no longer trembling but still carrying that edge of urgency. There's something different about seeing her in this setting—less guarded, more... human. For a moment, I forget about the storm outside.

"Nice place," I say, leaning back on my heels as the fire flickers to life. "Cozy. You always set up camp in the middle of nowhere?"

She glances over her shoulder, arching an eyebrow. "Only when I'm avoiding bears and overly curious bikers." She places a steaming mug on the table, steam curling into the air. "Tea?"

I chuckle, taking the mug and warming my hands around it. "Sure, why not? It kinda just tastes like grassy water, but it’s warm, and it beats freezing my ass off outside."

She snorts, a sound that’s more endearing than she'd probably like to admit. "Glad to be of service."

As the storm starts rattling the windows, I take a seat on the small couch. The warmth of the fire is spreading through the cabin, making this place feel even more cozy as I take a sip of tea. It’s not half bad—there’s a hint of something sweet, maybe honey. I watch Mika as she settles into a chair across from me, her eyes scanning the room like she’s not sure if she can relax around me. I half expect there’s a weapon of some sort hidden within her reach.

"So," she starts. "What makes a person join a biker club with a name like Devil's Pack?" Her eyes narrow slightly, curiosity mixed with skepticism.

I take another sip of the tea, letting the warmth seep in. "Needed family. Found it there. Plus, motorcycles are a helluva lot more fun than office jobs."

She laughs, a genuine sound that catches me off guard. "I can see that. My life was never exactly nine-to-five either." Her fingers wrap around her own mug, knuckles white like she's holding onto it for dear life. "So, is it all about the thrill? The danger?"

"Partly," I admit, setting my mug down. "But it's more about loyalty. Having each other's backs. Protecting what’s important. It's a brotherhood." I pause, watching her carefully. "What about you? What makes a person decide to hole up in a cabin with no access roads?"

Her eyes darken for a second, and she shifts in her seat. "I answered this at the diner. I needed a break.”

I raise an eyebrow, giving her a look that says I'm not buying it. "A break? From what, exactly? Worldly pleasures and modern conveniences?"

She smirks, though it's tinged with a hint of sadness. "Let's just say I've got my own brand of danger to avoid." She lifts her mug to her lips, taking a slow sip, buying time. I don't push; I can see she's not ready to spill her life story yet.

"Fair enough," I say, leaning back, stretching my legs out. "We've all got our demons. Some of us ride motorcycles to escape them, others hide in cabins." I let the joke hang in the air, watching as she fights a smile.

She sets her mug down and leans forward. "So, what's it like then? Riding with the Devil's Pack?"

I chuckle, running a hand through my hair. "Ever ride a rollercoaster at midnight in a thunderstorm?"

Her eyes widen slightly. "Can't say I have."

"Well," I say, grinning, "it's kind of like that. Heart pounding, wind in your face, the sense that you might fly off the rails at any second but you trust the ride will hold. And when you're with the Pack, you know you've got a safety net. If something goes wrong, someone's there to catch you."

She nods, chewing on her lip thoughtfully. "It sounds kinda nice… Safe.”

"Safe?" I snort. "That's a new one. Usually, people think we're a bunch of maniacs with a death wish."

Mika's eyes flicker with something I can't quite place. It's like she's seeing beyond the leather jackets and roaring engines, glimpsing the bonds that tie us together. "Maybe safety isn't always about avoiding danger,” she says softly. “Maybe it’s about knowing someone’s got your back when the storm hits."

I stare at her, so fucking vulnerable up here alone, and my wolf surges within me, a primal need roaring to the forefront. It's like an electrical current, zapping through my veins and making my muscles tense with the overwhelming urge to protect her, to offer safety in every conceivable way. I can hear him howling in my mind, demanding action. I have to look away to regain control, staring out the window as the wind picks up outside. Rain pelts the glass in a steady rhythm, and thunder rumbles in the distance, signaling that the storm is well and truly settling in.

"Looks like we're in for a wild night," I say, trying to refocus on anything but the magnetic pull she has on me. The rain cascades down in sheets, blurring the world outside into a gray haze.

She follows my gaze to the window, and her shoulders relax a bit, tension easing out of her posture. "Yeah," she murmurs, voice almost drowned out by the storm’s crescendo. "Nature’s got a way of making you feel small, doesn't it?"

I nod, still staring out into the tempest. Anything to avoid looking at her too long. "Yeah, it does. Reminds you that some things are just... out of your control."

There’s a beat of silence between us before she stands from her chair. "Speaking of control," she says, walking over to the bookshelf. "How about a game of cards? Might help pass the time, and I promise I won't hustle you. Much."

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