Page 19 of Feuding with My Shifter Werewolf

"It sounds like you've seen a lot of the world," I remark, discarding a card.

He nods, drawing from the deck. "I've been fortunate in that regard. But there's something to be said for having a place to come back to, a sense of roots."

His words strike a chord within me. Isn't that what I've been searching for? A place to belong?

As if sensing the shift in my thoughts, Zakir changes the subject. "What about you? What's your story, city slicker?"

I laugh at the nickname, shaking my head. "Oh, you know. Girl meets boy, girl gets engaged, girl realizes she's making a huge mistake and calls it off. The usual."

Zakir's eyebrows shoot up. "Called off an engagement, huh? That couldn't have been easy."

I shrug, focusing intently on my cards. "It was the right thing to do. We wanted different things. He wanted the picket fence, 2.5 kids, the whole shebang. And I..." I trail off, unsure how to put into words the restless longing that's always plagued me.

"You wanted more," Zakir finishes quietly.

I glance up, startled by the understanding in his tone. "Yeah. I guess I did."

He nods, as if this makes perfect sense. "For what it's worth, I think you made the right call. Better to figure that out before you tie the knot."

There's a weight to his words, a hint of personal experience. I find myself wondering about his own history, if he's ever been close to that kind of commitment.

As if he can read my thoughts, Zakir's lips quirk. "Believe me, you're better off. Some things just aren't meant to be."

The way he says it, with such certainty, makes me pause. It's almost as if he knows something I don't, as if he can see some greater truth that eludes me.

Before I can press further, he lays down his cards with a triumphant grin. "Gin."

I blink, then groan as I tally up my measly points. "How did you...?"

"Like I said," he smirks, leaning back in his chair. "I have my ways."

A laugh bubbles out of me, the somber moment broken. "Oh, is that how it is? Best two out of three, then."

He agrees with a chuckle, and we reset the game. But as we play, I can't shake the feeling that there's more to Zakir than meets the eye.

The next hand is close, both of us down to our final cards. I eye him over my fan of cards, trying to read his expression. But his face is impassive, inscrutable.

With a huff of frustration, I draw from the deck...and come up empty. "Dammit."

Zakir's lips twitch. "Tough luck." He moves to collect the cards, his fingers brushing against mine in the process.

It's the briefest of touches, but it steals my breath, and heat hums just beneath my skin.

From the flicker in his eyes, I know he feels it too. The air between us suddenly feels charged, crackling with an energy I can't name.

He clears his throat, pulling his hand back. "Another round?"

I nod, not trusting my voice. We play on, but the lighthearted ease from before has evaporated. Now, every accidental graze of fingers, every exchanged glance, is laden with a new intensity.

Outside, the storm reaches a fevered pitch. The wind howls like a wounded animal, rattling the windows with its fury. The power flickers once, twice, plunging us into darkness for a few heart-stopping seconds.

Instinctively, I reach out, my hand finding Zakir's in the shadows. His grip is strong, reassuring. Anchoring me in the midst of the chaos.

When the lights flicker back on, I become acutely aware of how close we are. Of the heat of his skin against mine, the steady thrum of his pulse beneath my fingertips.

I look up, meeting his gaze. There's a hunger there, a raw, primal edge that sends a shiver down my spine. It's a look that says he wants to devour me, to claim me as his own.

In that moment, something snaps within me. A tether, frayed by the events of the last twenty-four hours, the last several years if I'm honest, finally giving way.

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