Page 17 of Feuding with My Shifter Werewolf

I think of Kristen, just a few feet away. So close, yet so untouchable. I imagine going to her, gathering her in my arms. Showing her exactly what she does to me.

I groan, my body tight with unfulfilled need. This is torture. Pure, exquisite torture.

But I must show restraint.

So I do the only thing I can. I strip down and shift, letting the change overtake me. It's agony and ecstasy, the transformation. But when it's done, I'm more settled. More in control.

I pad out of the room on silent paws, making my way to her door. I can hear her on the other side, her breath soft and even. Sleeping.

I lay down, pressing my nose to the crack beneath the door. Her scent envelops me, calming and arousing in equal measure.

Soon,my wolf soothes.When the time is right, she'll be ours.

I hope he's right. Because I don't know how much longer I can resist the call of my mate.

My Kristen.

The storm outside intensifies, mirroring the tempest within me. I close my eyes, letting the sound of the rain and Kristen's steady heartbeat lull me.

And I wait, guarding my mate, my future. Even from myself.

Chapter Seven

Kristen

I blink awake, disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings. It takes a moment for the events of the night to come rushing back—the storm, the desperate trek to Zakir's cabin, his reluctant hospitality.

The howling wind rattles the windows, but inside, the cabin is warm and sturdy. I burrow deeper into the blankets, savoring the cocoon of comfort after the bone-chilling cold.

Embarrassment prickles my skin as I recall our terse interactions. I invaded his space, demanded his help. But what choice did I have?

I sit up, taking in the rustic charm of the cabin. Rough-hewn furniture, a stone fireplace, shelves lined with well-worn books. Everything speaks of a man self-sufficient, at home in the wild.

It only adds to my growing intrigue about Zakir. Who is he, really? What secrets does he hide behind those piercing blue eyes?

The man in question emerges from the kitchen, two steaming mugs in hand. He hands me one, our fingers brushing. Electricity sparks at the contact.

"Looks like we're stuck together for now," he says, a hint of resignation in his voice.

I nod, sipping the rich, dark coffee. "Thank you. For letting me stay."

He shrugs, settling into the armchair across from me. "Couldn't leave you out there to freeze, could I?"

Silence stretches between us, not quite comfortable but not entirely awkward either. The storm rages on outside.

My stomach grumbles, breaking the quiet. Zakir's lips twitch, almost a smile.

"Hungry?" he asks.

I nod sheepishly. "Starving, actually."

He gets up, heading back to the kitchen. "I'll rustle us up some breakfast."

I follow, drawn by the promise of food and the pull of his presence. The kitchen holds the same rustic charm as the rest of the cabin. I watch as Zakir moves around with practiced ease, heating up a griddle, cracking eggs into a bowl.

"I didn't choose this life out of hate for the world," he says suddenly, his back to me. "But for love of the peace it brings."

The unexpected vulnerability in his words catches me off guard. I swallow, choosing my own carefully.

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