Page 84 of Wanted

I look deep into his eyes and see the promise there.

Still, I break our eye contact.

The truth is, I could be making a big deal out of nothing. There’s no guarantee that I’m truly what he believes I am. The changes in my behavior over the past few weeks could all be attributed to the reality that I’m presently living in a community of wolf shifters.

It happens all of the time.

I’ve researched and studied a few civilizations of the past in which an outsider found their way into the new civilization or community and quickly adapted. Altering their behaviors to fall more in line with the people or society they were now living with.

Or when multiple women live together and their periods begin to coincide with one another. That could be all that’s happening with me.

The strange sensations and changes I’ve felt inside my body could be nothing more than my mind playing tricks on me.

As soon as that thought passes through my head, though, a large growl rips through my stomach. I cover my belly with my hands, suddenly embarrassed by the incessant hunger that’s suddenly gripped me.

When my eyes meet Chance’s again, he’s frowning.

“I knew you should’ve had more for dinner.” He’s on his feet before he even finishes his sentence.

After that very intense sex session on his couch, Chance got up and prepared a delicious dinner of chicken and beef fajitas. I’d insisted he’d put too much food on my plate. Yet, I ended up finishing it all.

Now, some thirty minutes later, my stomach is growling as if I hadn’t eaten in hours. I go to tell Chance that it’s not a big deal. But I know he’ll insist I eat anyway. He’ll fix me a plate of the remaining food from our dinner, while telling me that I need to eat to keep up my strength.

The supermoon is in a few days.

I bite my bottom lip as my thoughts sink into the conversation we were just having before my appetite interrupted it.

Am I really a wolf?

If I am, then could just about everything I know about myself be a lie?

As the questions start to swirl in my head, Chance places another plate full of his delicious fajitas in front of me.

“I prepared extra because I knew we would need it,” he says.

The scent from the spices and seasonings he used to flavor the meat float up to my nose. I inhale, and I swear I can name each individual spice.

Cumin

Pepper

Salt

Little bit of ginger

Chili powder

Roasted garlic

A part of me—the part that knows my mother would admonish me for having a second dinner—wants to tell him this isn’t necessary. That I’m truly not hungry.

But the deeper, hungrier part of me takes over. With little thought, I fill one of the corn tortillas with strips of beef, red and green peppers and onions before taking a considerable bite.

My shoulders fall in relief as I chew.

“How are they? Not too salty? I added a little more seasoning to the meat before reheating it this time.”

My eyes pop open, which makes me realize that I closed them in the first place. Chance stares at me with a pinch between his eyebrows.

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