Page 36 of Wanderlust With Wolves

I findher alone in her cabin, curled up in the soft glow of the lamp, her fingers absently stroking Belvedere’s fur, though she doesn’t seem to realize she’s doing it.

She’s nervous, withdrawn in a way I haven’t seen before.

Something is wrong.

Something has her trapped in her own head, and I don’t like it.

I don’t say anything at first, just step inside, letting her sense my presence.

She takes a deep breath, then looks up—only to immediately drop her gaze again, like she can’t bring herself to meet my eyes.

I take another step toward her. “Maya.”

Her fingers tighten in Belvedere’s fur, and I scent the salty tang of unshed tears before she speaks.

“I was—” She swallows, then tries again. “I was learning about… anatomy.”

Her voice is unsteady, but she forces a small, humorless laugh, shaking her head like she’s trying to make a joke out of it.

“Luna was telling me about mates. About how—” She finally looks up, and her eyes are shiny and wet, heartbreakingly wide.

“I can’t do forever, Ronan.”

The words are soft but heavy, thick with something aching and scared.

She shakes her head, wiping at her face. “I’m not built for it. I get restless. I’ll leave. And you—” Her breath catches.

“I don’t want that for you. You deserve better than that.”

Better than someone like her.

Better than someone who would eventually leave.

I inhale deeply, calming the beast inside me, the one that wants to snarl and claim and remind her that she is already mine.

Instead, I move closer, taking her trembling hands in mine.

“Maya,” I say, voice low, steady. “Whenever you need to go, wherever you need to go, I’d just follow you anyway.”

Her breath hitches, and she looks up at me, startled.

I smirk, just a little. “I think we both know how well you’d last trying to hide from me.”

She blushes furiously, and the sharp, aching tension in my chest eases slightly.

I brush my thumb over her knuckles, grounding her, grounding myself.

“Whatever label you want to use or not use,” I murmur, “you are mine. No piece of paper or ceremony needed.”

She blinks up at me, lips parted, and I can tell she wants to believe me, wants to let go of whatever fear is eating at her.

I take a deep breath, letting my own walls slip, letting her see me, see what I am offering her.

“In the battlefield,” I say quietly, “you don’t know if you’re going to live past the next second.”

Her eyes soften, her fingers curling slightly tighter around mine.

“So I promised myself,” I continue, “that I’d take what I wanted, and I’d protect the future I wanted by living what I wanted in the present moment.”

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