Page 30 of Witch's Wolf

“Don’t start that again,” I say with a sharp exhale, cutting her off.

Her smirk deepens. “I’m just saying?—”

“I didn’t want you to be late for work because of me.”

The excuse feels flimsy even as I say it. She chuckles. I hate how warm the sound is, even as it’s teasing.

“I know. I’m messing with you.” A two-horse carriage clatters past, and she watches it go with quiet fascination. “I think I’m starting to understand how Monica felt when she discovered your world.” Her expression shifts, something thoughtful settling in her features. “I wasn’t much help back then. I laughed at her. Made jokes about you guys.” She shakes her head. “If roles were reversed, I’d have been pissed.”

I watch her for a beat, noting the flicker of guilt in her eyes.

“Raul told me you weren’t very supportive.”

Her gaze snaps to mine, unreadable. Disappointment? Hurt? Shock? I don’t know.

“But your case and Monica’s are different,” I continue, keeping my voice even. “You’re not only discovering a whole world you didn’t know existed, but one you’ve been part of since the day you were born. You just didn’t know it.”

She’s quiet and thoughtful for a moment, then slides her fingers between mine, locking us together. The simple act sends a jolt of heat through me, but I ignore it.

“I think that’s the most words I’ve ever gotten out of you,” she murmurs, tilting her head. “Should I expect more of this in the future?”

“Depends on the topic,” I huff, half-laughing.

“Why?” Her fingers tighten around mine. “Is it hard for you?”

Yeah. It is. Words are weight. They matter. And the more I speak, the harder it is to keep my distance.

“Is it important to you?” I ask.

“I liked it,” she murmurs, her fingers slipping from mine. She trails them up my arm, slow and deliberate, leaving heat in their wake. She reaches my neck, lingering, fingertips pressing against my pulse.

“There’s something in your voice that calms me.”

Says the woman whose voice could bring any man to his knees.

I almost say it, almost let the words slip, but she’s already moving, fingers circling like she’s mapping the edges of my restraint. My heart kicks against my ribs as she strokes the side of my neck, her touch featherlight, testing, teasing. I brace myself for what comes next, and sure enough, she leans in.

I know what she wants. And I want it too.

This isn’t the kind of town where people kiss in the streets without drawing looks. Not the kind of place where a man like me, already a threat in their eyes, can afford to be seen tangled up with a human woman. My hands tighten at my sides, caught between what I know I must do and what my body is demanding.

Her lips brush mine before I can stop her, soft and searching, pulling me into the gravity of her. It would be so damn easy to lose myself in this.

I can’t. Not here.

I shift, dragging my mouth to her cheek, my arms coming around to pull her into a hug, something they won’t gawk at.

“Hold your horses,” I murmur against her hair, my voice rougher than I intend. “The locals don’t like this sort of thing.”

She exhales, her breath warm against my skin.

“Then we won’t be coming back here anytime soon,” she says, low and stubborn. “I’d rather be enjoying this hug someplace else.”

A quiet laugh rumbles in my chest, but I don’t let her go.

Shandaken. The last place I ever thought I’d be wrapped around a woman like this, in public, my walls crumbling one touch at a time. I tell myself it’s nothing. Only a moment. A simple embrace. Deep down, I know better.

She doesn’t hold back. She never has. And maybe that’s what scares me most. How easily she takes what she wants, how effortlessly she pulls me in. I don’t know if I like it. I don’t know if I can afford to. I do know one thing.

---