Page 3 of Falling for My Shifter Stranger

“I know,” I say softly, meeting his guarded expression with as much warmth as I can muster. “But I wanted to.”

His jaw tightens, and for a long moment, he doesn’t move. The tension in his posture is palpable, and I can almost see the battle waging behind his eyes. Finally, he steps aside, allowing me to enter.

The cabin is simple but cozy, with a fire crackling in the corner and a heavy quilt draped over the bed. Rhys moves to the far end of the room, keeping as much distance between us as possible. My wolf growls softly at the space he’s put between us, her possessiveness simmering just below the surface. I force myself to ignore her, setting the tray on the small table by the fire.

“Thank you,” he says after a pause, his voice low and rough. He doesn’t sit, doesn’t reach for the food right away. Instead, he watches me, his silver eyes sharp and assessing, as if he’s trying to figure out what my angle is.

“You’re welcome,” I reply, folding my hands in front of me. “The pack has a big Christmas decorating event later. You should join us.”

At that, his expression hardens slightly. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” I ask, tilting my head. “It’s just a tree. Some ornaments. Nothing too dangerous.”

His lips twitch, almost like he wants to smile but doesn’t quite know how. Instead, he shakes his head. “I’m not exactly… welcome here.”

“That’s not true,” I say quickly. “You may not feel it yet, but the pack is more accepting than you think. They just need time to warm up to you.”

Rhys doesn’t respond, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—something that looks an awful lot like longing. My wolf growls softly, urging me to step closer, to close the distance between us. But I stay rooted where I am, knowing he needs patience more than pressure.

“Well,” I say, clearing my throat, “the invitation’s open. No pressure.”

I turn to leave, giving him one last glance over my shoulder. He’s still standing there, his hands clenched at his sides, watching me with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. My wolf stirs, hopeful, as if she can feel the bond tugging at him too.

???

The scent of pine and fresh snow fills the crisp mountain air as I step onto the pack’s outdoor community square, my arms loaded with tangles of Christmas lights. The pack is already a bustling hive of activity, the sound of laughter and the occasional bark of a pup echoing through the space.

Our community building stands tall at the center of it all, its sturdy wooden beams dusted with snow and its windows glowing warmly from within. It’s the heart of our pack gatherings, and tonight, it’s getting its holiday makeover.

This is my favorite tradition—the day we transform the square into a winter wonderland. The pups are running around in gleeful chaos, pelting each other with snowballs, while the elders huddle near a fire pit, sipping cocoa and offering unsolicited decorating advice.

“Need a hand with those?” a familiar voice calls from behind me.

I glance up to see my brother, Ryan, striding toward me, his expression already set in his default alpha mode: stern, watchful, and always on the lookout for trouble. He’s got a coil of lights slung over one shoulder, though I’m pretty sure he hasn’t actually been helping.

“I’ve got it,” I reply, adjusting the boxes in my arms. “You should go have fun for once. Jenna’s been trying to get you to hang the wreath above the door for the past ten minutes.”

Ryan snorts, his lips twitching in what might technically qualify as a smile. “Jenna’s idea of ‘helping’ is standing around and telling other people what to do. I’m better off here.”

Of course, he is. Ryan’s idea of a good time is micromanaging the pack—or, in this case, the decorations. “Suit yourself,” I say, setting my boxes down near the base of the building. “But don’t think I didn’t notice you sneaking a cookie from the dessert table earlier.”

His brows lift, feigning innocence. “What’s the point of being alpha if I can’t have first pick?”

I laugh, shaking my head. For a moment, it feels like old times, before the weight of leadership settled on his shoulders and turned him into a grumpy bear. But then his expression shifts, his gaze sharpening as he lowers his voice.

“Hannah,” he says, the alpha edge creeping in. “We need to talk.”

I cross my arms, already bracing for the lecture. “What is it now?”

“It’s about the lone wolf,” he says, his tone serious. “I don’t trust him, and neither should you.”

My wolf growls softly in the back of my mind, her hackles rising at the implied threat against our mate. I take a steadying breath, forcing her down. “Ryan, he hasn’t done anything wrong. He just needs a place to rest for a few days. It’s Christmas—we’re supposed to be showing kindness, not suspicion.”

Ryan’s jaw tightens, his alpha instincts clearly at war with his love for me. “Lone wolves don’t just wander into pack territory without a reason. He could be dangerous.”

“Or he could just be someone who’s had a hard life and needs a little compassion,” I counter, refusing to back down. “Not everyone is out to hurt us, Ryan.”

His eyes narrow, his gaze flicking past me to something—or someone—standing at the edge of the square.

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