Page 20 of Her Convict Wolf

The next thing I know,we’re pulling up in front of a rustic wood cabin, in what looks like a real isolated area.

“We’re here!” I say, followed by, “oh, god, I fell asleep on you, didn’t I?”

I really hope I wasn’t drooling or sleeping with my mouth open.

But the look Maxim gives me is tender. “You were snoozing like an angel,” he says.

Angel.That word again. All my life I’ve felt tainted by my father’s criminal empire. But Maxim sees me as pure, and I love that.

“Welcome to your new abode,” he adds with jokey formality.

I bound out of the passenger-side door.

My new abode. A rustic log cabin, with two square windows at the front, a sloping roof and a little pathway, leading to a solid-looking front door.

I used to dream about living somewhere isolated like this, far from my father’s clutches. A simple life, without all the luxuries that had been bought and paid for with other people’s blood. I think in my dreams, it had looked something like this.

Maxim puts his hand to the door and it unlocks. A fingerprint sensor. Okay, guess it’s not so rustic after all.

“Welcome,” he says.

The front door has a ton of locks that whir into place when the door shuts behind us.

“I can set up your own fingerprint sensor,” he tells me. “The exterior walls are heavily reinforced. There’s also an invisible forcefield that extends fifty yards around the property, and I’ll receive an alert if anyone breaches it.”

Inside is a combination of rustic wood and modern appliances, all understatedly stylish.

There are two bedrooms, also with reinforced doors. And they’re beautiful. Wooden king-size beds, with lovely wooden closets and nightstands. “I usually sleep here.” He points to the one on the left. I already guessed that one was his. It has dark covers on the bed, and it’s tidy, but there’s something more masculine about it. I imagine him naked between the sheets. Pulling me in with him…

He shows me the bathroom. It’s ultramodern, with a bathtub and shower. The kitchen is compact, but looks like it came straight out of a design magazine. He runs his hand across the counter. “Beech wood,” he comments.

“Did you design all this yourself?”

“Every last detail.”

I take in the trendy-looking fridge. “Where do we get groceries from?”

“From the nearby town. I usually hunt my own meat though.” He turns away from the kitchen counter. “And that’s everything.”

I run the tip of my tongue across my lips, suddenly aware that I’m in Maxim’s lair. This place he built himself; where he hunts his own food, like the big growly shifter that he is.

I’m also aware that he’s staring at me, like he can’t take his eyes off me.

“Let me show you around outside.” He strides across the cabin and tugs the door open.

He points out the well, the solar panels on the roof. The shriveled vegetable garden that could be revived. The woodpile for the winter months.

An image pops into my mind of the two of us tucked up inside with a fire roaring in the hearth. No neighbors around. Just him and me.

I want to behis. The feeling that has been growing inside me all day reaches boiling point.

Not like a girlfriend, but something more.

His mate.

The word appears in my brain, just like before.

How am I going to hide my attraction to him when we’re living like this?

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