Page 45 of Wanted

What you want doesn’t matter!

The words my father yelled at me crash through my mind, ending my hesitation.

I need to get back to my pack to remind our members to put out their water buckets to collect the rainfall as well as the special panels we have that collect energy from the lightning strikes.

In our sustainable community, an incoming thunderstorm isn’t a bad thing at all.

It takes me about twenty minutes to get back to town. A number of our male members are already out setting up the water collection system and opening the energy collection panels.

I assist them for the next half an hour before they head inside for the night. It’s close to midnight. I assume Emery will be asleep once I return home. Which is why I don’t bother with putting on more clothes aside from my boxers once I shift from wolf to human again.

I move with the intention to be as quiet as possible as I enter the house to not wake her. I keep a blanket on the couch in my living room. Though it’s too small for me to stretch out on, I can sleep on the floor.

Yet, movement from the open door in the bedroom catches my attention. It’s as if there’s an invisible hand pushing me toward her.

“You’re not sleeping.”

She jumps and pivots toward the door with her mouth wide. I curse myself for scaring her.

“You’re back,” she says, her chest moving up and down rapidly.

For a split second I register her expression as fear, but quickly realize that’s not it. When her eyes brighten as she slowly looks me up and down. It’s then I remember that I’m only wearing a pair of boxers with my loose hair pouring over my shoulder, down to my abdomen.

Emery tucks her lower lip between her teeth. She hasn’t stopped staring at me.

No. It’s not fear she’s feeling at all.

I take a step in her direction.

When she doesn’t move, I take another.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she admits.

I step close enough so that we’re almost chest to chest. She’s wearing a dark green, sleeveless satin top with matching shorts. I quietly thank Mother Moon for granting us wolves fantastic eyesight.

With nothing but the moonlight in the distance from the open window, I can make out every contour of Emery’s body. Her smooth, brown skin looks perfect to touch.

Her breath hitches when I grasp her arms, stroking them up and down.

“Why couldn’t you sleep, Emery?” I ask while holding onto her.

Her eyes become glossy as she peers up at me. “I kept tossing and turning, thinking about that night.”

“At the motel?” I ask. “Those wolves won’t touch you,” I vow.

“What?” She shakes her head. “No, not that night.” She pushes out a breath. “When I was ten. The night our parents died.”

She stops and then does something that steals my breath. Emery gently lays her head against my chest, as if she needs me for strength.

There’s no hesitation on my part in answering the call.

I reach down and lift her into my arms. She startles a bit in surprise but a beat later, wraps her arms around my neck.

I carry us to the bed and sit with her in my lap, my back presses against the wooden headboard.

Emery doesn’t lift her head from my chest. Soon, I find myself running my thumb up and down the outline of her chin. Reverberation in my chest coupled with the movement of Emery’s jaw tells me she’s talking but I don’t know what she’s saying.

I don’t want to miss a word so I tilt her head toward mine, so that I can see her mouth as she speaks.

---