Page 33 of Craved By a Wolf

And gave up.

Wolf shifters weren’t known for caring whether anyone saw them naked, often stripped before a shift and walked around in the nude after one. It wasn’t like his clan would see anything they hadn’t before if he walked into the small group of houses as he was now.

But they would know something had happened to him.

He huffed. They probably already knew something had happened to him. He had been gone for days, something that was unlike him. Hadn’t even sent word to his pack before going after Hella.

MacKinnon bundled his jeans up in his fist and strode towards the heart of his territory, following a path worn into the earth that wound through the pines and spruces, steeling himself as he walked. There would be comments. He would keep his chin up and not let them see a slip of a witch had rattled him and had him unsure of what he was doing.

Had him craving her.

His thoughts turned to her, summoning memories of her and the way she had looked at him at times. He didn’t want to soften towards her, but just before he had been teleported by the potion, there had been regret in her eyes.

As if she hadn’t really wanted to send him away.

He recalled the nymphs and how desperate she had been to escape them, and it struck him.

She feared they would capture her again.

She feared someone taking her freedom from her.

He groaned and palmed his face, feeling like a colossal fool even as his instincts whispered at him that she was his mate, that she was his to claim and he needed her. She belonged to him. It was hard to deny that feeling as he stepped out from the trees onto a broad swath of grass and saw the single-storey white cottages of his pack’s home ahead of him.

They were nestled in the shadow of a great curving munro, bringing to mind his dream of Hella and the lone white cottage where she had been waiting for him.

His wolf side began to pace, as agitated as he felt as he stared at his home and for the first time ached to be somewhere else.

Somewhere far different from the simple, quiet life he had at his pack.

Kin blamed the curse. He still had no proof that Hella was his fated one. He only had the feelings she stirred in him to go on and those could easily be a fabrication. He probably wouldn’t be the first male a spell had tricked into believing he had found his mate.

Ewan, a young male with auburn hair, came out of his home as Kin neared it, took one look at him and hurried towards him. “Are ye hurt?”

Kin shook his head. “Took a swim in the loch.”

Ewan looked as if he didn’t believe him. “You’ve been gone for days. Gregor was fretting something terrible.”

Gregor, a big blond male who came close to rivalling Kin’s height, stepped out of his cottage on the other side of the square of grass they kept clear in the centre of the village. The male watched him with worried blue eyes and Kin gave him a look that told him not to fuss. It became a scowl as Gregor’s pretty little black-haired mate came out of the house too and glanced up at him, and the male slung his arm around her to reassure her.

Gods, Kin ached to hold Hella like that.

To have her by his side here in this glen.

He had never felt his home lacked something, but now he did.

It lacked a wily, wild wee witch.

Gregor levelled him with a look that said they would be talking later. Kin huffed and strode to his own small cottage, one that faced the square and had a door that matched the colour of the slate roof. He paused before it and tilted his gaze upwards, to the green mountain laced with patches of soft purple heather, and sighed. This was too much like his dream, only there was no witch waiting for him in his cottage, ready to welcome him with open arms.

She wanted nothing to do with him.

And could he really blame her?

MacKinnon pushed the door open and stepped inside, closing it behind him before any of the pack could get ideas about paying a call. He didn’t need their questions right now. He needed whisky. Copious amounts of whisky.

He glanced at the black log burner that stood against the wall to his right. Someone had kept the fire going for him. Gregor probably. His second in command had always worried about him—always took care of him.

The male had been the only one to stand by him when their previous alpha had been killed and Kin had put himself forward for the position, willing to fight for it as was tradition. When he had won, defeating every challenger, he had made Gregor his second in command.

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