Page 92 of Wolf Roulette

Sascha tugged me toward him, and I went.

I much preferred him in jeans—only jeans—but he was so fucking handsome in a suit. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he took me in.

Our hearts pounded together. His desire danced with mine. Our scents merged so completely that I could barely tell one from the other.

“Sascha.”

Now Basilia had pointed it out, I’d never miss the irregular skipping of my heart again.

“Andie.” His voice was sharp. “What are you doing here?”

I rested a hand on his chest, half expecting him to deny me that touch. A small sigh escaped his lips as my palm contacted the space over his heart. “I—”

“If you’re here to see me, then I can’t help you.”

“Why are you shutting me out?”

“What you did isn’t enough?”

I refused to look away. “Not enough for this. There has to be a reason you’re pushing me away.”

“Maybe I’ve rediscovered my priorities.”

His smirk hurt. Then again, it was designed to. I stepped so our bodies were flush and gripped either side of his face.

“No,” I whispered upward. “I don’t believe that.” For the first time ever, I knew someone’s feelings for me were bigger than the world.

He tensed under my touch, but joy emanated from him too.

My words elated him.

He didn’t want me to believe that he didn’t love me? How did that make sense?

I watched the ticking in his jaw, feeling the rapid flutter of his pulse under my palm. “If I’m wrong. You need to tell me. For good.”

Sascha covered my hands with his. “I won’t discuss the game with you, Andie. I’m sorry you put on that stunning dress for nothing, but perhaps it’s better that you leave.”

He didn’t mean it.

He wanted me to stay more than anything.

“Is someone controlling you?” I asked under my breath.

Did his father have anything to do with this?

Sascha brushed his thumb over my cheekbone. “The only person with the power to control me is you, beautiful wolf.”

“Then help me understand why you’re acting this way. I’m confused.” When I’d turned from Sascha, it was because of Herc’s death. I’d been hurt, afraid, lost, and reeling.

There was no anger in Sascha though. Only grim determination.

Nothing about his reactions meshed with his actions.

He lowered his hands, drawing my hands away with them. “You need to leave.”

I narrowed my gaze. He would speak to me before I left. “I’m a patron. I’m here to gamble.”

Sascha’s expression smoothed. “No, you’re not.”

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