Page 33 of Wild Fated

“I’m sorry.” Her tongue flicked over her lips, and heat flashed under my ribs. My pulse kicked up, and my wolf stirred, prowling just beneath the surface. I cleared my throat, trying to ignore the way my skin prickled. Every movement she made pulled at me, tugging at something primal.

“What about you?” I asked, hoping the words would ground me.

She considered the question, her head tilting slightly, exposing the curve of her neck. My gaze locked on the delicate line, and my wolf growled low in my mind.What the hell was happening to me?

“Up until a year ago, I would’ve said my life wasn’t dramatic,” she answered.

“It is now?”

Lana shrugged, and reached for a piece of smoked meat. Her arm brushed mine, setting my nerves on fire. My fingers twitched, and I clenched my hands into fists, willing myself to stay still.

She placed the meat in her mouth. “I’m sure you’ve heard about what happened in Kitimat.”

I forced myself to focus on her words, not the way her scent was wrapping around me. Earthy and warm. It was becoming impossible to ignore. I cleared my throat. “Rumors have made it up our way.”

She patted the dagger on her hip, and my gaze dropped to the curve of her waist, lingering longer than I meant to. My wolf rumbled, pushing against my control, and I shifted in my seat to put some distance between us.

“They’re now combined with what used to be my pack, Black Lake,” she said.

I’d heard about Kitimat’s alpha. I’d even found him up in our territory once. “And after seeing what you did, you still believe pack life is the answer?” The words slipped out, and even I was surprised I asked the question. Of course she did. She was still tied to her pack. She was here, searching for the relics of a new one.

Lana took another swig of wine, the movement drawing my attention to her lips. My eyes followed the path of a drop of red as it clung to the corner of her mouth. My wolf growled again, louder this time, and I shifted uncomfortably, feeling the heat spreading through my chest. Lower . . .

“We believe the same, I think,” she said softly. I frowned, focusing on her words, but it was nearly impossible. “You want to help shifters,” she continued. “What you do in the mountainsis admirable, Destin, but you’re only one wolf. You can’t help everyone. A good pack can do that, and our job isn’t only to protect our own.”

I tore a piece of bread from the loaf on the table, needing something to do with my hands. Her words hung in the air between us. I shoved the bread into my mouth, chewing slowly, trying to block out the way her presence was seeping into me, making it impossible to focus.

“Humans,” I muttered, forcing the word out through clenched teeth. “Right. Because they’ve been so understanding of our kind in the past.”

I grabbed a slice of cheese, tearing into it with more aggression than necessary. My jaw worked, the sharp flavor doing little to distract me from the ache building beneath my skin. I needed to get a grip. “You live near them?” I asked. Up north, the only time I ran into humans was on purpose—which was never.

“I’m a teacher. I see them every day.” She smiled. “I wanted to make a difference.”

A wave of grief and guilt hit me, sharp and unexpected. It wasn’t mine. I blinked, trying to push it back, but it clung to me, heavy and suffocating. “Doesn’t seem like it’s making you happy,” I said, more bluntly than I intended.

Her eyes snapped to mine. “Why would you say that?”

I swallowed, suddenly too warm despite the cool air. I picked up my goblet, swirling the wine inside, watching the dark liquid spin. The truth slipped out before I could stop it. “I can feel what you feel.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

I exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of my neck. My wolf grumbled, restless under my skin, urging me to retreat, but there was no way to backtrack now. “I can sense emotions—anger, fear, joy. It’s not something I can control.”

Her gaze sharpened, and the intensity of her focus sent a shiver down my spine. “You’re psi?”

I nodded, ignoring the strange swirling in my gut. Admitting it out loud made it feel too real, too exposed.Why was I telling her this?It wasn’t unheard of for wolves to have special abilities, but this one . . . I’d been taught too many times to count that it wasn’t appreciated.

“What do you feel from me?” she asked, leaning in slightly.

I hesitated, every instinct telling me to shut this down. Shifters didn’t like their emotions laid bare, and I knew better than to dig where I wasn’t invited. But Lana’s expression was open, curious, and I couldn’t seem to resist. “You want to know?”

She didn’t answer, just waited, her eyes locked on mine. My wolf rumbled, more alert than ever, and I fought the urge to lean closer, to close the space between us. I chose my words carefully. Shifters didn’t enjoy hearing that someone could see pieces of them they hadn’t shared willingly. I kept my observations strictly linked to the last two minutes of conversation.

“You’re sad when you think about teaching,” I said. “And you feel guilt.”

Her lips parted slightly, and the sight of it made my pulse jump. “The school year is starting,” she whispered. “I’m not there.”

My wolf growled again, louder this time, and I felt the sharp edge of desire coil in my gut. Every movement she made—every tilt of her head, every flick of her tongue—was driving me closer to breaking. I adjusted in my seat, trying to find some relief, but there was no escaping it. She was in my head, under my skin, and the slow burn of the wine wasn’t?—

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