Page 4 of Posing for the Artist Wolf

“I’m Claire,” I said, teeth chattering. Still, polite is polite, and I held out my hand. “And you are?”

He hesitated, his gaze flickering between my face and my outstretched hand. For a moment, I saw… I don’t know. Longing? Wariness? Then it was gone, replaced with a crooked smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Kai,” he answered, taking my hand. I swore I saw him draw in a sharp breath, his pupils blowing wide. He jerked his chin over his shoulder as he continued, “My place isn’t far.”

CHAPTER TWO

KAI

Shit. Fuck.

She shouldn’t have followed. She should not have followed me into the snow. What sort of person ignored all survival instinct to go chasing after an animal in a snowstorm?

A kind, caring, compassionate one. One who barely reached my chin, sported curves for fucking days, and was now tucked inside my jacket.

I inhaled her scent—cinnamon and blackberries and undeniably human—then tore my gaze away before she noticed my eyes on her. She needed to warm up, not an eye-fuck. Her lips were nearly blue and her shivers rolled one into the next.

My wolf snarled, urging me to help her. To save her. A noble fucking idea that lasted until the old barn came into view. She had a whole house filled with fancy furnishings, and I brought her here? To my den?

My prison.

Fuck.

I shouldn’t have gone out. I should have stayed tucked behind my walls, wolf safely in check. What sort of person deliberately threw himself at temptation and expected to behave?

A fucking idiot with an out-of-control beast under his skin, that’s who.

We reached the top of the rickety steps to the loft. I reached inside the door and fumbled with the light switch, cursing under my breath as it flickered to life. The naked bulb cast harsh shadows across the converted apartment, laying bare every imperfection.

I took in the disaster of my living space. Claw marks scored the walls, stuffing threatened to spill from a worn couch cushion. Clothes and papers littered more surfaces than not.

Fuck. I should steer her toward the pack house. Maddy would take care of her. Hell, so would Brielle, and Tara, too.

I’d put even money on Rafe and Orion scaring her back into the snow.

“Sorry for the mess,” I muttered and hurried inside, heat creeping up my neck. I flexed my hand and sank into the residual pain. “Wasn’t expecting to get snowed in with anyone tonight.”

A reminder to behave.

She followed me inside and immediately dragged her glasses off her face. She juggled her hands in the air for a moment before unzipping her coat and cleaning the lenses on her shirt. Cinnamon and blackberries and nerves flooded my nose.

Then she popped those cute-as-fuck cat eye frames back on her face and really looked at the hell I’d dragged her into.

I gathered up a pile of torn envelopes and the overdue guts they spilled on the wobbly end table. Then a shirt hung over the back of the couch. “My sister, Maddy, works with shelter animals. Sometimes things get... rowdy.”

Lie. Oh, Maddy volunteered at the shelter. Or did until Tara put her on bedrest pending Mini Mads’s arrival.

No, this chaos was all me. Every claw mark, all the chewed up furniture legs—my wolf’s doing. Fucker couldn’t make it through the night without stealing my skin, and I couldn’t make it through the day without losing my shit and disappearing into fur.

And now I’d dragged Claire into it. Only, I couldn’t exactly fess up to being the dog she’d tried to rescue.

I flexed my hand again, keenly aware of my wolf locked on her every movement.

Claire nodded. I watched, mesmerized by the snowflakes melting in her dyed silver and purple hair, as her eyes swept from the kitchenette in one corner to the unmade bed pushed against the opposite wall. The open floor plan left nowhere to hide—not the battered dresser with its lowest drawer pull ripped out, nor the desk covered in scattered papers and art supplies.

“I should get a fire going,” I muttered, dumping my armful of envelopes and clothes onto the nearest surface. At least it condensed several piles into one. “You’re freezing.”

I grabbed kindling and logs, stacking them in the wood-burning stove. The task should’ve been simple, but my hands shook. Her scent wrapped around me, drawing me in and drowning me.

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