Page 21 of Wolf Fated

And yet, I have no other way to describe those feelings.

Which is why, despite the nagging voice of self-preservation that whispers for me to keep my distance, there’s an undeniable pull that defies the boundaries of rational thought.

My head snaps up as a haunting wolf’s howl echoes through the crisp mountain air. The sound tugs at something deep within me and makes goosebumps rise over my skin. I turn toward the treeline, my gaze searching for the source, but the forest remains still and silent and I remember the connection Willowbrook has with wolves. Maybe this is why they’ve named shops after wolves. That howl is going to stay with me for a very long time.

I wait to hear another howl, but the wolf stays silent.

With a shake of my head, I turn and make my way back into the Wolf’s Bite. As I step into the cozy lobby, I’m greeted by the sight of Cindi bustling about behind the front desk.

“There you are,” she exclaims, her green eyes twinkling with mischief. I haven’t noticed the shade of them before, but now I look, they’re an unusual shade. Like sea glass. “I was beginning to wonder if the sheriff had decided to keep you all to himself.”

Heat blooms in my cheeks at her teasing tone, and I can’t help but avert my gaze, suddenly self-conscious. “He, uh...he had to go take care of something,” I say, the memory of tires throwing up gravel in his haste to leave still fresh in my mind.

Cindi’s brow gathers ever so slightly, and I can practically see the wheels turning. But before she can probe further, I’m pressing on, determined to steer the conversation in a different direction.

“Although my bank account has been cleaned out, I can still pay you. Mitch offered me a job,” I confess. Although it’s only a pity job, it means I can earn money. “I’m going to write about the festivities tonight for the town newspaper.”

To my surprise, Cindi doesn’t seem the least bit taken aback by the revelation. Instead, she simply chuckles and shakes her head, her expression one of quiet amusement.

“Of course he did. My brother would move heaven and earth for you, if he could,” she murmurs.

There’s something weighted in her tone that hovers just beyond the periphery of my understanding. A frown pulls at the edges of my lips as I regard her.

“Is there...something I should know about him?” I ask, unable to shake the nagging sense of unease that has taken root in the pit of my stomach. “I mean, is he...you know...”

I trail off, suddenly uncertain of how to voice the question that leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. Is Mitch the type of man who preys on vulnerable women, offering false promises and empty reassurances?

He knows many things about me. That I’ve run from a disastrous relationship, burning with shock and betrayal. I’m broke. My job will likely no longer be there because I haven’t turned up for days. I have no family to call on for help. Or even friends, come to that.

In short, my life is pretty sad. I’m vulnerable and if I’m not careful, open to more abuse. Many people wouldn’t think twice about kicking a person already down.

I hope I’m wrong. I hope that it’s only the lingering doubt that Mark has messed with my mind, and I hope that on the slim chance I’m right about Mitch, that Cindi would tell me even though she is his sister. I watch her body language, looking for traces of a lie, but she’s already shaking her head with conviction. “My brother is many things, Sarah. But a philanderer is not one of them.”

“Okay.” My shoulders slump in relief as the weight of my concerns dissipates.

Cindi’s gaze grows distant as she focuses inward. There’s something sad and wistful about the look on her face. “In fact the men around here tend to be the forever kind. One-woman men, bound to their mates for eternity.”

The word hangs heavy in the air between us, and that strange second-knowing switches into place again.

Mates.

Mitch uttered that same word, his voice laced with a depth of reverence and possession, only when he’d said it shivers of awareness had raced down my spine. “What exactly do you mean by...mates?”

She regards me for a long moment, her expression one of quiet contemplation. And then, with a soft sigh, she shakes her head and offers a small smile. “Imagine finding that one person who completes you in every way. As if they were tailor-made for you by the universe itself. A mate is a person destined to be your soulmate, bound to you through an inexplicable and unbreakable connection.”

Her words paint a vivid picture of love and devotion so profound, so all-consuming that it seems to transcend the boundaries of mortal understanding. Despite my best efforts to remain objective, to approach the concept with a healthy dose of skepticism, a flicker of longing takes root deep within my soul.

As the weight of Cindi’s words settles over me, a single face dances at the edges of my consciousness–ruggedly handsome, with liquid brown eyes and a presence that steals the breath from my lungs.

Mitch.

I shake my head, trying to dislodge the errant thought before it can take root and blossom into something more. Because as much as a part of me yearns to entertain the notion of fated mates and cosmic connections, the rational side of me rebels.

“I think that sounds like it might be too good to be true,” I say.

“And I say sometimes fate works in mysterious ways,” Cindi says.

Still, as I make my way back to my room to prepare for this evening, I can’t shake the lingering tendrils of Cindi’s words, or the way they resonate deep within me even when I know better.

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