Page 23 of Soul Fated

After a moment of hesitation, she moved. "Fine, I'm coming." She climbed onto my back and wrapped her arms around my neck, her legs gripping my sides. Pressure and warmth spread against my fur, and I shivered.

Keep it in your pants, I sent to my wolf. He was far too pleased with himself.

Lana shifted, her wolf form resembling more of a coyote than a true wolf. She was smaller, sleeker. She let out a huff, then turned and started trotting through the forest.

Callista's grip tightened as I snapped up my bag with my teeth and moved into a lope, my paws crunching against the pine needles. Lana's footsteps sounded behind me, her breath steady and even.

I focused on choosing a path through the trees, but I couldn't ignore the way Callista's heart pounded against my back, the scent of her filling my nostrils. I almost sideswiped a redwood. Pay attention, idiot.

“Wow, okay.” Callista stiffened on my back.

What did she say? It sounded like a direct response to my frustrated command to my wolf, which was impossible. I slowed to descend the river bank and tentatively pushed another thought. Hold on.

“Don’t you want to add, “idiot” to that?” she sniped.

My mind spun. She could hear me. How could she hear me? Speaking in wolf form was reserved for pack mates and…

Blood rushed in my ears. She is not my mate. She is NOT my mate.

I bolted through the woods, trying to outrun what had just happened and trusting the harness to keep her steady. The rope bit against my belly as she jostled, but the sting kept me centered.

It wasn't until we reached the clearing where my truck was parked that I slowed. I waited for Callista to slide off my back, then shifted back into my human form and dug in my bag for my clothes.

I threw Lana’s things to her and turned as she shifted and changed, then motioned for them to get in the truck. I slid into the driver's seat, and Lana took the passenger side as Callista slid into the back.

My wolf whined, but I ignored him and turned to face the two of them. "We’ll be back by morning. Your alpha won’t even know you’re gone. Happy?"

Lana rolled her eyes. "Ecstatic."

I started the engine and pulled out of the clearing, the headlights cutting through the darkness. Callista shuffled in the back seat, and I caught a glimpse of her in the rearview mirror. Her eyes glinted, and she bit her lip. I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry.

I didn't want to think about how her hand had slipped from my neck when she slid off my back. I didn't want to think about how her breath had hitched when she felt my muscles tense under her. I didn't want to think about any of it, but the more I tried to push it away, the more it lifted to the surface.

I needed to break her bond with the dagger. Fast.

I clenched the steering wheel and sped. There was nobody on the roads at that time of night, and the drive to Fraser Lake was a blur.

We pulled up to the run-down house an hour later. "Here we are.” I cut the engine and took it in. The paint was peeling off the siding, and the porch looked like it would collapse the second someone set foot on it.

Bill’s son was probably using again. Not giving him any help.

Callista put a hand over the seat, and her thumb brushed my shoulder. "This is it?"

I nodded, then pushed open my door and dropped to the gravel drive.

Chapter

Twelve

Callista

Kael led the way up the wooden steps to the front porch. The boards creaked under our weight, the sound echoing in the stillness. A single cracked porch light gleamed next to the door, allowing me to see that the exterior of the house was rugged. It had weathered wood siding and a shingled roof that had seen better days.

It was just past midnight, and yet Kael didn't knock. He simply turned the knob and walked in. My heart skipped a beat at the audacity of it, but I followed him over the threshold. He removed his boots and stalked across the room, switching on the lamp on the end table.

The interior was cozy but cluttered. An old leather couch sat against one wall, flanked by mismatched armchairs. A threadbare rug covered the worn hardwood floors, and a coffee table was piled high with hunting magazines and empty beer cans. The walls were adorned with hunting trophies, antlers, and black-and-white photographs of a man with a grizzled beard and kind eyes.

And there, in the corner of the room, was the face from the pictures. He was slumped in an easy chair, his head resting against the back, with his mouth slightly open as he snored softly. I should’ve been scared to be in a stranger’s house, but Kael was so at ease I didn’t think to panic.

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