Page 29 of The Beta's Blind Date

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he says, laughing and crouching next to me.

His hand strokes the fur on my head between my ears, then glides down my neck to my back. He doesn’t lift his hand, just moves it in one long, gentle stroke, stopping right before my tail. Then he brings his arm back to the top of my head and repeats the motion a second time, his eyes following the path of his hand, his movements even slower than the first time.

His brow furrows, and he disappears back into himself as he continues to pet my wolf, lost in his own mind. A shadow passes over those bright blue eyes of his, like a cloud covering the sun in an otherwise clear sky. His hand snaps away from my body, and he turns his back to me, storming off behind a bush.

I wish I could sense what he is thinking and feeling. I wish I could mindlink him so I could ask him if he’s all right, ask him the reason for his sudden physical and emotional one-eighty.

He strips off his clothes so he can shift, and while the bushes he’s behind hide his lower half, I have a wonderful, unobstructed view of his upper body. The muscles in his back tense and ripple as he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it on top of the bush.

And oh my Goddess. He looks better than I imagined when we had dinner together the other night.

There are trees as far as the eye can see, but the only thing I’m interested in climbing is him.

I snap my wolf’s jaws shut so the saliva pooling in my mouth doesn’t drip out and leave me a drooling mess over this male. This male I can’t have. This male I shouldn’t want.

This male, who is standing in front of me in his wolf form, staring at me.

I got so caught up in my head and my lustful musings I didn’t realize he’d shifted and made his way over here.

My wolf perks up under his wolf’s gaze, her ears pricking forward and her tail wagging again, her snout twitching as she sniffs the air to catch his scent and learn it. Only wolves who are mates can identify each other’s exact scent, but I can detect a hint of something woodsy and cinnamony. It’s a homey scent, a scent that reminds me of Christmas.

His wolf is large. Larger than mine, of course, but also larger than a regular male werewolf. His bulky and muscular frame lets other wolves know he holds a high-ranking position in his pack, one he has earned through hard work and through his bloodline. His fluffy, thick fur is a mix of lighter and darker grays with a touch of white underneath. The heavy coat looks soft and warm, and I want to touch it the same way he touched my wolf, but that will have to wait.

My wolf, however, can touch his wolf.

I urge her forward, and she complies without hesitation, jumping up and prancing over to him, nudging him with her snout and pouncing around him, running in circles and chasing her tail, then pausing, waiting to see his reaction.

Little show-off.

He stares at her, watching her with an unreadable expression, his tail unmoving behind him. My wolf walks right up next to him, standing even with him and mimicking his posture, except she turns her head to see him. She has to crane her neck to look up at him, and I can imagine the impression they make together—his wolf statuesque and serious, and mine, playful, petite, and perky.

He nudges her with his muzzle, then lifts his head and releases a howl, letting us know it’s time to run.

My wolf takes off on a sprint, like she thinks she’s a cheetah or a gazelle, and Reid’s wolf is right on her tail, nipping at her heels to get her to go faster. She lets out a spirited yip and picks up the pace, her tongue hanging out the side of her mouth, and I laugh, filled with energy and excitement as we follow the path around the lake Reid told us about.

Our wolf run is over faster than I would like. I could have spent hours out there, running through their lands, weaving in and out of the trees and onto the shore of the lake.

I can imagine it in the summer too, when the weather is warm. I picture my wolf splashing through the shallows of the lake before heading back into the shade of the trees, the scent of water and pine swirling around me as little droplets fly off my fur with every thud of my paws against the ground.

Reid’s wolf stayed behind my wolf for the entirety of our run around the lake. I know he was observing me and taking mental notes on whatever it was he saw, but having him with me, knowing he was right there, watching my back, put me at ease and made me feel safe. And him following my lead, trusting me to guide us down the correct path, made it seem like we were a team instead of cadet and drill sergeant.

I lead us back to our clothes, and we dress in the same comfortable silence present during our warm-up run earlier in the day. As much as I want to, I don’t let myself sneak anymore peeks at him while he’s dressing. I got some glimpses of him earlier, and if we’re going to continue these trainings, I need to maintain some level of professionalism. I need to remember he’s the teacher and I’m the student.

But his presence mere feet from me sends sharp pinpricks of awareness into every cell in my body. It takes every ounce of energy I have left to keep my eyes forward, to keep from turning and peering around the trunk of the redwood tree at my back.

“I’ll save all my feedback for the next time we meet,” he says as I walk around the tree once I’m dressed again. “It will be better for you to implement the feedback in the moment rather than forget about it and me have to tell you again later.”

I nod and cross my arms as we walk out of the forest side by side. “Right. Plus, you won’t be at Silver Ridge to check if I’m implementing it correctly.” We’ve reached the edge of the training field, and I see my car in the parking lot in front of their log cabin packhouse from where I stand. “You’ll let me know what day?” I ask. He nods, sticking his hands in his pockets, and I nod again, too, giving him a tense smile. “I’ll see you later, then.”

I give him a half-wave and turn away as slow as I can. My mind knows it’s time to leave, but my body and heart don’t seem to want to comply, both of them complaining and straining as I walk towards my car. But his deep, compelling voice stops me before I can get too far.

“Actually, there is something else I need to talk to you about.”

Chapter 11

REID

Atmywords,Tarynturns around with the fluidity of a dancer, a question in her eyes, her tense shoulders relaxing. “What about?”

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