Page 108 of Tempted By the Alpha Outlaw

As the sun sets and the pack starts to celebrate, I brace for another night alone, suffering, dying to be inside my mate and soothing her heat. The full moon rises, spilling silver light over the den, over the trees, over the world that’s kept me apart from her for too long. In the distance, the bonfires crackle, voices rising in celebration, in laughter. I hear the music, the stomping of feet, the howls echoing into the night sky. The den is alive, burning with the fever of the moon. I lock the door to the workshop, intent on keeping my promise to stay away…then I feel her.

I can’t explain it, because it isn’t a voice. It’s more like…a sixth sense, a sensation that flickers over my skin like her touch. At first, I wonder if I’m so lovesick and lonely that I imagine it.

But she’s thinking about me…and reaching out.

I barely remember getting up.

One second, I’m sitting on the edge of my cot, hands fisted in my lap, breathing through the weight of the full moon’s pull. The next, I’m moving, unlocking the door, making a bee-line for her house. Outside, the air is thick with the scent of the bonfires, the echo of laughter, the low thrum of voices carried on the wind. The den is alive behind me, a heartbeat pulsing in the night, but I don’t turn toward it.

I go to her.

Step by step, I cross the field, my boots silent against the grass, my body pulled forward by something deeper than instinct. Something carved into my bones, woven into my blood.

The Jones’ house rises in front of me, bathed in moonlight, the porch slats glowing silver, the windows dark. I stop at the edge of the tree line, standing still beneath the weight of the night, of the choice I’m making, of the hope curling like a fist in my chest.

I exhale.

Then, I keep going.

Each step feels heavier than the last, like the ground is testing me, like the universe is making sure I mean it.

I do.

I move with purpose, crossing the grass, slipping around the side of the house to her window. The light is off inside, the curtains still, but I know she’s awake. I can feel it in my bones, in my blood, in the bond that stretches taut between us, fragile but open for the first time in weeks.

I kneel, fingers brushing over the cool earth, and reach for the smooth weight of a pebble.

A breath.

A moment.

I throw the pebble…like some damn school kid, I throw a pebble at her window. Then one more…then another.

I grin to myself, shifting my weight, rolling another pebble between my fingers. This is stupid—the stupidest damn thing I’ve ever done. But my heart is pounding, and my stomach is twisted up, and for the first time in weeks, I feel like myself. I’m just reaching down to grab another pebble when I see movement.

The curtain shifts…my pulse stops…then the window creaks open.

And framed in that window, the moon like a spotlight on her gorgeous face, is Magnolia Jones.

She’s looking down at me, a soft smile on her face, dark eyes luminous and her hair in wild curls all around her. Her scent washes over me, wildflowers and honey and that mingled scent of us, of our baby. I grin up at her, hands sliding into my pockets.

“Hey, angel,” I say.

Magnolia tilts her head, amusement flickering behind the heat in her gaze. "You throwin’ rocks at my window, Colt Morgan?”

I grin up at her. “Seemed like the old-fashioned thing to do.”

She hums, leaning on the sill, her arms folded, watching me like she’s trying to decide whether or not she wants to come down. Like she’s savoring this moment, stretching it out, just to make me sweat.

She’s so beautiful.

The moon catches in her curls, casts soft shadows over her bare shoulders, the fabric of her nightgown whispering against her skin. The scent of her is thick in the air, honey-sweet and aching with the unmistakable heat of the full moon.

It takes every ounce of control I have not to climb up there, drag her down to me, and finally make her mine again.

Instead, I rock back on my heels, smirking. “You gonna let me in, or you just wanna watch me look pretty from up here?”

She huffs a laugh, her lips curving despite herself. “You think you look pretty?”

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