Page 65 of Racing the Storm

He changed his direction a bit, and moments later, a cabin came into view. We were so far out in the middle of nowhere, I wondered how the damn thing had been built. It seemed ancient and untouched, but I could smell hints of Wolves having recently been by.

Kor, I reminded myself as my hackles rose. Mikael seemed to be having the same thoughts though, because he didn’t rush to shift. Instead, he circled around the place three times, slipping into the woods before he came back and chuffed his approval.

We were safe.

We were alone.

Mikael shifted, but I remained as my wolf as I followed him up the stairs, and he found a key hidden in the porch light, opening the door. The place was one story, and it smelled fresh enough that I could take in a deep breath without wanting to sneeze.

When the door shut, the place dimmed, and I finally felt myself shift into arms and legs. Taking a moment to stretch, I watched him—unashamed in his nudity, poking around like a kid. It made me smile as I thought about him young—untouched by the war, unaware of a world that would segregate him from the people he loved.

No idea that society would murder his mate and plunge him into decades of killing and fighting.

I wished I had known him then. I wished I had just a glimpse of the Wolf without the weight of the world on his shoulders.

And at the same time, I also wouldn’t trade this person for the world.

“Hungry?” he asked. He’d gone around a corner as I stepped into the living room and tested the plushness of the leather sofa, and he joined me with a pile of clothes in his arms. “There’s food and a couple of suitcases.” He lifted the clothes to his nose and took a breath. “I don’t recognize the scent, but it’s someone from Corland.”

He was right. I took a soft t-shirt and a pair of running pants, and I could smell home. Not my home, not my pack, but close. It made my chest feel a little tight as I slipped into them, and I suddenly wished we could have just gone all the way back.

I was desperate to see my sister, to pull my brother into my arms and assure myself he was fine. I wanted to kiss my niece and have a beer with my brother-in-law while he told his terrible Blind Dad Jokes.

I just…wanted a moment of peace.

Then Mikael’s arms came around me, and I remembered why we needed this. My belly heated up, hotter than it ever had before, and my body shivered at the sensation. “I think I’m exhausted,” I told him.

He stared down at me with a small frown, but after a beat, he nodded. “Why don’t you go find us a bed, and I’ll see what I can feed us quickly.”

It sounded like heaven. I watched him walk off, then I made my way down the hall and found the first bedroom with a cozy bed, the blankets and sheets freshly washed. It was almost too soft as I sank down onto the mattress, and the fatigue only got worse as I laid my head down on the pillow.

“I want to let you sleep, but I know you need something in your stomach.” Mikael’s voice jolted me out of what I realized had been a doze, and I rolled onto my side to see him holding a plate with two sandwiches. “At least a few bites.”

I wasn’t hungry. I was…something else. I had no idea, but it felt like an itch just under my skin. I knew he was right, though. We’d run too far and had been through too much for me to ignore myself.

Pushing up to sit, I grimaced at the aches settling into my joints. “Is it always like this?” I asked as he settled the plate between us.

Mikael frowned. “What? What are you feeling?”

“Sore,” I admitted. I stretched my arms above my head, and it made my skin break out into gooseflesh. It was…new.

“You’re not used to that kind of running,” Mikael said, but he was looking at me strangely as he lifted his own sandwich and took a bite.

I mirrored him, and his look of approval settled something in my gut, making me take another. And then another. He watched me as I finished the whole thing, and it should have been strange, but it wasn’t. It was…nice.

“Will you hold me a while?” I asked as he set the plate on the floor.

At that, he let out a happy rumble in his chest and shoved the blankets back. I was too hot to need them, and his warmth was just enough to sink under my skin and provide more comfort than I had ever felt in my life.

It was familiar—being with him like this.

Different from France.

Older.

“Sleep,” he told me softly. His fingers brushed through my hair, and my eyes drifted closed, heavy and aching.

I woke to a tongue on my neck, licking over my pulse. It was rough, close to wolf, and the ache had returned. My skin was burning, my eyes hot like I had a fever, but that was impossible. I hadn’t burned up like this since…

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