Page 41 of Season of the Wolf

But he did need to know.

I crossed the hall quickly before I lost the nerve. Movement on the other side of the door after I knocked had me running a hand through my hair, straightening my hoodie over the waistband of my shorts.

There was music—low enough someone with normal hearing wouldn’t have even heard unless they were within a foot or two of the radio, but I picked up on it right away. The earthy tone of an acoustic guitar and a soulful male voice accompanied Liam’s footsteps as he neared the door.

He answered and the sight of him still made me lose my breath. My chest heaved when I laid eyes on this living, breathing work of art. Even broody and sad, he was impossibly perfect—his dark hair pulled back into a disheveled bun, his torso lacking a shirt as a pair of tattered jeans rode low on his hips.

I blinked and lifted my gaze, trying to focus on his greenish-brown eyes.

“Ca—can I come in?” I stammered, fidgeting with my nails while I struggled to concentrate on only his face, trying to distract myself from … well … all the rest.

He nodded, stepping aside to let me pass. He still hadn’t said actual words, which was strange.

Behind me, the door latched gently. He took a few steps and then stopped, crossing both arms over his chest as his gaze lowered to the carpet. I was left with the impression it was difficult to look at me.

I breathed, let my hands fall to my sides, breathed some more as I searched for words. I didn’t really have a game plan beyond coming to see about him. Only, now that I was here and sensed a strange, cold vibe, I found myself wishing I’d thought this through a bit more.

My eyes wandered behind me, to his bed.

“Can I sit?” It seemed strange to ask, but I felt awkward here, like maybe Ishouldhave stayed away.

Again, only a nod.

I crossed the room and dropped down onto the mattress. Things had gotten so hot and heavy last I touched it, but you would have never guessed as much now.

I gathered the nerve to look at him again, to ask a question I hoped would break the mile-thick ice between us.

“Did I do something?”

In a perfect world, he would have answered right away, but that wasn’t the case. He made me stew in my own anxiousness as I watched him nearly gnaw a hole through his lip.

His tone cutting deep with its sharp edges when he finally answered, “Nothing I didn’t already expect.”

My brow twitched and I felt an inward recoiling, as some small part of me reacted to the brashness in his voice that’d never been aimed at me before.

“I’m not really sure what’s going on,” I breathed, feeling how my lungs quivered with every syllable. “But whatever it is, I’m sure we can just talk about it,” I suggested.

However, when he didn’t readily respond, doubt crept in.

“Can’t we?” The smile I tried to brave slipped from my lips with the question.

His broad shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath. The rims of his nostrils flared, making it abundantly clear he was pissed, but had yet to brief me on the cause. All I knew was, somehow, I was at fault.

With anyone else, I might have let the awkwardness get to me, would have stormed off to let them figure it out on their own, but I couldn’t bring myself to walk out on him. So, I stayed.

Stayed and waited.

When his lips moved, I focused intently.

“Found out something interesting last night,” he said, taunting me with the lighthearted cynicism that dripped from the statement.

I watched him, all too aware of this being a new experience. He’d never been angry with me. Not like this, anyway.

“What’d you find out?” I did my best to hide how much this got to me, how much it hurt to feel distance like this between us.

He let his back rest against the door before going on, folding thick arms across his chest.

“You went after him,” he seethed, adding more for clarity. “The Sovereign.”

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