Page 26 of Redeemed Wolf

When I opened my car door, he was already there waiting for me, a strange look on his face. “Hey, maybe leave your phone in your car. I’m not bringing mine either. That way we won’t have any distractions.”

I smiled softly. “That’s really sweet, I like that. Okay.” I reached back and tossed my phone in the console.

The air was filled with so many rich scents—garlic and cheese and fresh herbs—and I wondered why I’d never noticed how amazing food smelled. I came alive under the woven tapestry of aromas. As we headed through the lot to the door, his knuckles brushed against mine, and it felt intentional. I hooked a finger around his, and even that small point of contact seemed to sizzle with an electric current. He glanced over at me, an unspoken promise in his gaze. The night was far from over.

The host seated us at an intimate table for two in the back corner of the Italian restaurant. The place wasn’t super fancy, but it had white tablecloths and low lighting, and I didn’t need it to be anything more. He didn’t need to wine and dine me; I’d already decided I was his for as long as he’d have me. I’d been having a hard time focusing at work, for just those few hours before and after lunch. It was so sudden and intense that itfrightened me, but no matter how many times I told myself to be careful, not to trust these new emotions, I couldn’t seem to slow down. I didn’twantto.

We sat quietly, trading sly glances over the tops of the menus. I felt… giddy. Excited. For the first time in my life, I understood what people meant when they tried to describe love. How had I ever thought he was just some guy, and not the most gorgeous man I’d ever met? When I thought back to when I first laid eyes on him, it was almost like I’d been seeing him through a foggy haze. Now, though, I was seeing every detail in HD.

“Do you know what you want?” Silas asked.

“Huh?” I almost told himexactlywhat I wanted, until I registered the waiter standing by the table, ready to take our order. “Oh… sorry, I wasn’t really paying attention to what I was reading,” I admitted.

Silas smirked. “I know the feeling. Two of the special, whatever it is?” he suggested, and I nodded, laughing. The waiter shook his head with a knowing smile and left us alone.

We sipped our waters as we waited for the food. We didn’t speak much, but it wasn’t awkward, and I didn’t feel the need to fill the silence like I might’ve with anyone else. There was just something about him that set my soul at ease.

The food arrived, but I barely noticed what it was. Some kind of pasta with a cream sauce. There might’ve been mushrooms? It didn’t matter, not when every bite seemed to be laced with Silas’s scent.

Silas’s gaze skimmed my face, and he seemed to be debating how to say something. “You don’t look much like your dad…”

“No, I wouldn’t. I’m adopted.”

“How old were you?”

“Really little, barely a toddler.”

“Really?” He frowned in confusion for some reason. “What was growing up with him like?” He leaned in, listening intently to my answer.

I shrugged. “I’m not really sure. I don’t remember much. I was… sick a lot.” I set my fork down, sighing. “Sorry, I know this is a little somber for first-date conversation.”

“No, it’s fine. I want to know everything about you, so it makes no difference if you want to tell me today, tomorrow, or next year. The first-date etiquette rules don’t apply.”

My heart gave a littlebu-bumpin my chest. As hard as it was to believe, I trusted him, and I wanted to share everything with him, especially the hard stuff. “Okay… Well, I was really sick as a kid. We’re talking strange fevers and bone-shattering pain with no apparent cause, but my dad… he worked for years on a cure for me. It’s a big part of why he’s studying genetics in the first place. I don’t remember much about those years, beyond pain so severe I couldn’t see straight. I couldn’t eat, sleep, and my dad had to keep my arms restrained so I didn’t hurt myself trying to claw my way out of my skin.”

“He tied you down?” Silas had stopped eating, his face set in a mask of intense emotion. Sadness, frustration, anger? I couldn’t identify it, but I wanted desperately to soothe him, so I reached across the table and took his hand, tracing my thumb over his knuckles, clenched tight around his fork.

“Don’t worry, I’m okay now. I wouldn’t be where I am without my dad. I’m so grateful for the chance at life he gave me. Not many people would’ve gone through all that for a child that wasn’t even theirs by blood.” He just kept staring at me, his eyes a little glassy, his throat working hard to swallow. “Are you okay? Did I say something wrong?”

He blew out a breath and placed his free hand over mine. “No. Never. You’re perfect, Carter. Just the way you are. You hearme? You are strong, brave, smart, and so damn beautiful. There is nothing wrong with you, not one single thing.”

His words hit their mark, dead center, and I felt them all the way through. My father, as much as he’d done for me, had never said that before. He was constantly hovering over me, waiting with his tests and pills as if expecting me to break, but here was this virtual stranger, who looked at me and didn’t see some weak, helpless man. He saw me how I wished I could see myself.

And the way he looked at me as he brought my hand to his lips, I could almost believe it.

“Thank you,” I whispered raggedly, my vision going a little blurry. I wiped at my eyes before any tears could fall, cursing my wildly fluctuating emotions. I could only assume it was the meds working their way out of my system, some hormonal reaction. I felt a little overwarm, too.

I pulled my hand back and sniffed, wiping under my eyes with my napkin. “Now,” I said, aiming to lighten the mood. “If we could please stop talking about my health and my father on this date, that would be great. Tell me more about you.”

Laughing, Silas thankfully turned to lighter topics, though I found him evasive when it came to talking about his past. I could tell he loved his omega mother, Kristen, though there was a shadow of grief coming off that I swore I could almost taste, and he danced aside of any mention of his alpha father. There was obviously some lingering tension there. I wasn’t about to pry, and I didn’t blame him for keeping his personal life to himself, but it also felt a bit like a step back from how intense our conversation had been when talking about me. I was disappointed he didn’t trust me enough to share his own story.

Instead, we talked about TV shows and books, food and music. It was just as well we didn’t discuss anything too serious, because I wasn’t sure if I could focus entirely on what he was saying, not once his foot made contact with mine under thetable. I didn’t pull away, and neither did he. And then he slid his leg between mine, decisively, without even a hitch in his voice as he told me about this action movie he’d watched last night. There was a delicious tingle of friction as our calves brushed, our knees bumping, and as innocent as this bit of contact was, it lit me up inside. I was cursing the distance this table forced between us—hell, I was cursing ourclothes. I swore I could feel each thread of my pants as the fabric chafed across my skin.

My mouth flooded with saliva as I watched the drag of his tongue over his bottom lip, catching a bit of sauce at the corner of his mouth. Sweat started to bead along my hairline. We needed to get the hell out of here.Now.

I had spent the better part of the past 20 minutes pushing food around my plate, not able to eat more than a few bites. It wasn’t that I wasn’t hungry—because seriously, I was ravenous—but it seemed that my appetite was for something else, and he wasn’t on the menu.

When the waiter returned to clear plates, I was grateful to shove the plate and cutlery in his direction. “Can I offer you something from the dessert menu?” he asked, and I groaned in frustration.

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