Page 15 of Beckett's Fate

After a long moment, he shut off the water and stepped out, wrapping a towel around his waist. The cool air hit his damp skin, but he barely noticed as he padded back into the bedroom. The sheets of his bed looked inviting, and exhaustion tugged at him, urging him to surrender to sleep.

He slid beneath the covers, the crisp fabric cool against his bare skin. His body sank into the mattress, his eyes closing as the madness of the day finally began to fade. But sleep wasn’t the escape he’d hoped for.

The forest surrounded him, its shadows deep and endless, but there was no danger here, only anticipation. The air was filled with her scent—wildflowers and something darker, more primal. He turned, and there she was, standing in a clearing bathed in moonlight.

Irene.

She was breathtaking. Her fiery red hair tumbled over her shoulders, her green eyes smoldering as they locked onto his. She wore nothing but the faint glow of the moonlight, her bareskin gleaming like polished ivory. Beck’s breath caught as his gaze roamed over her, the sharp tug of desire anchoring him to the spot.

“You’ve been following me,” she said, her voice low and teasing, a smile playing at her lips.

“Can you blame me?” he replied, his voice rough with arousal.

She stepped closer, her movements slow and deliberate, her hips swaying with each step. When she reached him, she placed a hand on his chest, her touch searing his skin. Beck’s pulse thundered as her fingers trailed downward, her nails grazing lightly against the hard planes of his abdomen.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” she whispered, her lips brushing against his ear.

His hands found her waist, pulling her closer as her body pressed against his. The heat of her skin, the softness of her curves, the way her breath became erratic as he held her—it was almost too much. Beck’s control slipped, his wolf growling low and possessive as he lowered his mouth to hers.

The kiss was explosive, a collision of need and hunger. Her hands tangled in his hair, her body arching against his as his lips moved over hers, claiming, devouring. When her nails raked down his back, a shudder tore through him, the pain sharp and delicious.

“You’re mine,” he growled against her lips, his voice rough and raw.

Irene laughed softly, a sound that sent a jolt of electricity through him. “We’ll see about that.”

And then, she was gone—evaporating into nothingness, as if she’d never been there.

Beck woke with a start, his body slick with sweat, his breathing ragged. The dream clung to him, vivid and visceral, the phantom sensations of her touch still tingling against hisskin. He ran a hand over his face, trying to shake the lingering haze of desire.

“Damn it,” he muttered, his voice hoarse.

The bed felt too empty, too cold without her. He sat up, raking a hand through his hair as his wolf stirred restlessly in the back of his mind. The dream had been too real, too raw, and it left him aching in ways he wasn’t prepared to confront.

Irene was under his skin, a temptation he couldn’t ignore. And the worst part? He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

7

IRENE

The morning air was crisp and cool, the forest alive with the scent of dew and evergreens. Irene moved through the underbrush with purpose, scanning the terrain for signs of her next clue. The boulders with the markings had led her here, to a stretch of forest that felt older, untouched. She was certain she was close.

Her boots moved softly over the ground, the faint rustle of leaves underfoot blending with the gentle whisper of the wind. She adjusted the strap of her pack, her thoughts focused on the map she’d sketched the night before. If her calculations were correct, the next set of clues had to be somewhere near the base of the ridge ahead.

But her instincts were on edge, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. The forest felt too quiet, the usual symphony of birds and insects conspicuously absent. She paused, her heart thudding in her chest as she listened.

That’s when she heard it—the faint snap of a twig.

Irene froze, her breath catching as she scanned the trees. The shadows seemed to shift and stretch, as the faint smell of human sweat mixed with gun oil reached her nose. Her stomach churned. Hunters.

Before she could react, a voice rang out, sharp and commanding. “Don’t move.”

She turned slowly, her eyes locking onto the group of men emerging from the shadows. There were three of them, their rifles slung over their shoulders, their expressions cold and predatory.

“Well, what do we have here?” one of them drawled, his lips curling into a cruel smile. “A little lost hiker?”

Irene’s heart pounded as her gaze darted between them. They didn’t look like casual outdoorsmen. Their movements were too deliberate, their eyes too sharp. And the way they looked at her sent a chill down her spine.

“I’m just a hiker. If you’re hunting in this area, I’ll choose somewhere else to hike. This trail was recommended to me by the owner of the B&B where I’m staying,” she said, her voice steady despite the fear twisting in her gut.

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