Page 275 of Rage

“I do,” he replies succinctly, taking a bite.

I wait a moment, but he doesn’t continue. “I would love to see some of them—if you wouldn’t mind.” Ewan lifts his eyes back to mine, and something flashes in them. “My—my dad painted. From what I was told. I don’t remember any of it, but I loved the few paintings my mother kept.”

His hazel gaze softens, and a small smile forms on Ewan’s lips before his stoic mask falls back into place. I’m not surewhat I’ve done to make him uncomfortable, but he feels aloof for someone who is meant to be my mate.

And my body isn’t responding that way. Not at all.

In fact, I feel like all of my senses are heightened right now just being in his presence.

Meeting Oliver felt relieving, but not the same as meeting Ewan. Something in him calls to me, and the longer this dinner goes on, the more worried I am that the Forresters were right. That the human half of me will mess up any chance I have at being a real mate.

I take a sip of my water while Ewan watches me.

“Your paperwork mentioned your parents. I’m sorry, Ivy.”

I shake my head, waving him off. “It’s fine. I was young with my father.”

That part isn’t a lie. I was young when it happened. But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t aware of what they did to my dad. Murdering him in order to force my mother to have more children for the wolves of our community. Little did they know she wouldn’t be able to carry any of them. And little did they know it would force her into a deep, horrid depression where she was willing to let her only child be physically abused by those very wolves for years. Only to sell her off to the highest bidder once she proved to be too much of a mutt for any sort of use.

“Still,” he whispers. “Losing anyone you love leaves a mark.”

Ewan’s eyes are glassy, and I give him a tight-lipped smile. “Yes.”

“Well,” Oliver interrupts. “I’m sure you’re exhausted after today. I know I am.” He pushes back from his seat and picks up his dishes. “I’m hoping we can have more time to get to know one another after I come back from work tomorrow, but Ewan will be here.”

Ewan nods to me and continues to eat his dinner quietly. I glance down at my bowl of stir-fry and dig around for a pea pod,popping it into my mouth as Oliver returns from the kitchen and places a chaste kiss to the top of my head. “Get some rest, sweet girl.”

His whisper sends a shiver down my spine, but it’s not entirely pleasurable. I’m guessing the last six months have made it impossible for any touch from a man to feel pleasant.

Ewan is silent as Oliver takes his leave and treks up the stairs. But the moment the door at the end of the hall clicks shut, he looks back up at me.

“You don’t eat meat?”

I swallow my nausea at the memory before shaking my head. “No. Bad experience.”

He tilts his head, sitting back in his seat and looking far more relaxed than he did throughout the entire dinner. “Why didn’t you tell Oliver?”

After showing me around the house, Oliver had offered to make dinner for us while Ewan was locked up in his studio finishing a painting. He asked if I liked stir-fry, and I immediately answered yes. I haven’t been asked what I wanted to eat or what I like since my dad passed away. Even if living with my mother wasn’t as bad as the Forresters, it was still bad.

And when I snapped… well, she had it coming.

I take a deep breath and blow it out, determined not to fuck this up.

“I just didn’t feel like upsetting him,” I say, keeping it truthful but also avoiding giving this stranger too much information, even though my heart is telling me it’s safe to talk to him.

I still don’t know him. Ewan may be my mate, but the blood work isn’t there to prove it, so the feeling in my gut could be nothing more than nerves and discomfort at being in this new place.

He narrows his eyes and runs his tongue over his teeth. My eyes track the movement without even trying, and I feel a pulse vibrate through my entire body.

Well.

What the actual fuck is that?

Ewan’s nostrils flare, and he shakes his head. “Oliver was right, you should get some rest.”

He grabs my bowl and cleans up both of our plates. I don’t follow him into the kitchen, but wait just outside until he comes out. Ewan brushes by me on the way toward the stairs, and I hesitate, every hair on my body standing at attention from the brief physical touch.

He pauses as he gets to the first stair and lets out an audible sigh. “Come on,” he says, reaching a hand out behind him.

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