Page 23 of Wolf Fated

Chapter Twelve

Mitch

I am utterly spellbound the moment Sarah steps into view, her fiery tresses glowing like molten copper in the fading twilight. The sight of her steals the breath from my lungs, and when her green eyes find me standing by the side of my cruiser waiting for her, her full lips tip into a radiant smile and the world stops.

Stunning. She’s absolutely stunning.

My wolf howls, a feral sound that reverberates through every cell in my body. Mate. Mine. Bite. Claim.

My muscles coil tight, restraining him when all he wants to do is break free of my skin and rub himself all over her because he’s right. The goddess has blessed us. She is ours. Ours to claim, to cherish, to worship forever.

Sarah’s eyes flare and a look of panic forces her happiness away. Her steps falter as though she can feel the undercurrent of possession that crackles around us. Panic lances through me, sharp and insistent, and before I can think, I’m propelling myself forward, every muscle poised to catch her.

But she regains her footing, her brow furrowing as her smile slips, replaced by a look of uncertainty that has every raw urge within me screaming to soothe and reassure.

Soon I will be able to. When she knows. When she accepts me for who I am to her and she won’t push me away.

With a monumental effort, I rein in my instincts, forcing myself to maintain a semblance of calm as I usher her into the confines of the cruiser.

“Are you all right?” I murmur, as she clips her seatbelt.

She nods, offering a tight smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m fine,” she insists, but her eyebrows draw together, and she glances away. I can’t help but feel the way I left her before has something to do with her obvious discomfort.

“I owe you an apology,” I begin, the words tumbling from my lips in a rush. “For how I left things earlier, for running off without an explanation. That wasn’t...it wasn’t right of me.”

Sarah regards me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. But then, slowly, the tension bleeds from her shoulders, and she offers me a small, reassuring smile. “It’s all right. You’re the sheriff! I’m not your only job. You have other duties to attend to.”

She’s right. I did have other obligations, but wrestling my wolf under control shouldn’t be something that drives me away from her. I send censure to my wolf, only slightly mollified when his ears droop.

Her sweet scent holds a sour edge. I know she’s feeling the bond between us, as much as I am, but she’s unsure what it is, or even if she can trust her feelings. It hums beneath my skin, a thrum of awareness that resonates in perfect harmony with the basic instincts of my wolf.

“I’m glad my duties have brought me back to you,” I say, happy when the sourness dissipates.

She smiles. “I’m glad I can bring some enjoyment to your busy day.”

“You bring more than enjoyment to my day, Sarah.” I’m pleased when a fetching pink blush blossoms over her cheeks.

I’ll have to tell her everything, but for now, as I guide the cruiser through the bustling streets of Willowbrook, I allow myself to simply be with her because every moment spent in her company will deepen the bond.

As we pull into the heart of the Market Square, the festive atmosphere envelops us in a warm embrace. Twinkling lights drape from the branches of towering oaks, casting a soft, ethereal glow over the scene. The air is rich with the scents of roasting meats and spiced cider, mingling with the earthy aromas of hand-crafted wares and freshly cut pine.

Laughter and music fill the air, a symphony of joy and revelry that resonates deep within me. This is my home, my pack, the beating heart of everything I’ve sworn to protect and cherish. I guide Sarah through the throngs of merry-makers, basking in the warmth of their greetings and well-wishes and a surge of pride swells within me.

I hope it will come to mean as much to Sarah as it does everyone who lives in Willowbrook. So much rests on me doing this properly.

Sarah drinks in the sights and sounds. Her gaze darts from one vibrant display to the next with an insatiable curiosity that tugs at the corners of my lips. But even as she revels in the festivities, even as she allows herself to be swept up in the infectious energy that pulses through the very air around us, I sense her sharp mind at work, cataloguing information for her article.

Hopefully more.

I can’t help but hope this might form inspiration for her book.

A place she will want to build her life with me.

“What is all of this for? This Lunar Frost Festival, I mean,” she asks.

I regard her for a long moment, torn between the desire to lay everything bare and the need to tread carefully.

“Tonight is a celebration. The “Lunar” aspect represents the connection to the moon, often associated with transformation and magic in wolf mythology, while “Frost” celebrates the icy beauty of the winter solstice,” I say.

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