Page 37 of Mated Exile

I chuckle at the memory of her fierce gaze settling on me, a scowl harsh enough to melt my insides convincing me to stop playing around and do as she said. "You were something else, even then. I used to think you were going to take over the pack after your father."

Absentmindedly, she says, "Of course, while mated to Kieran."

"I thought you could do it all on your own," I confess. "It seemed obvious to me you had the heart for it, as well as the strength and the courage. That was what William struggled with—he could give and give to strays, and he was an excellent hunter and fighter, but he was afraid of so much about the pack's future."

"He was afraid of me," she says softly, eyes fixing on her fingers as she curls them in her lap.

"Maybe he was," I acknowledge. "But he was wrong to be afraid like that. The little girl who spent an entire afternoon scooping up fish to save them from drowning isn't the sort of person who would turn an entire pack of werewolves into puppets. You care about living things too much to hurt them."

"I could've changed in the last seven years." She challenges me with a fierce, fixed look. "You don't know."

"Don't I?" Meeting her eyes, I challenge her back. "Would the high school girl who put on a bake sale to help house a foster teen do something like that? What about the woman who, once she became restaurant manager, started a drive to gather up wasted food from local businesses and fed the hungry on her days off? Or the woman who brought home a stranger into her house because he had nowhere else to go? You are who you've always been, Delilah: a good person with a kind heart."

Her eyes are wide, face shocked. She blurts out, "You know all that? How?"

"You brought home Bastian yesterday," I point out, stiffening under her probing gaze. "I was there."

"I mean the other stuff, stupid." Socking me in the shoulder with her fist, she turns those piercing eyes on me. "You know about the things I did in my time as an exile. When I was in San Diego."

Ignoring the ache her not-so-little punch left behind, I mutter, "I have internet access."

"So you've been cyber-stalking me," she teases, and despite myself, I feel a flush in my cheeks. "Little beanpole Roarke grew up into a creeper."

"Shut up." Rolling my eyes, I rise off the bench, suddenly embarrassed—but her hand swiftly grabs my wrist and tugs me until I turn to look at her. "What?"

"Thanks for thinking of me while I was gone," she says, voice suddenly soft and serious. "I had no idea anyone cared."

Thinking of the ways Kieran has thrown himself off metaphorical cliffs, how Niall turned into a shell of a man, and William died of a broken heart without his daughter, I tell her, "Everyone cared. Just not enough to do what we should've done, and go out there to drag you home."

"Still. It's sweet. A little creepy, but sweet."

Reluctantly, I tug my wrist from her grip, afraid that if I stand around here telling her more vulnerable things and listening to her soft words I'm never going to be able to leave. My skin feels cold without her touch against it, and I have to tamp down on the longing to reach out and grab hold of her.

"We should put together the outfits we got for your stray puppy," I tell her, instead of talking further about my embarrassing seven-year obsession into her life outside the pack. "Now that we know roughly what'll fit him, we should be able to put something together."

Delilah doesn't bring the subject back around again, and neither do I, once I've changed back into my own clothes and folded up everything to bring to the register. After the cashier rings it all up, Delilah reaches into her purse—but I stop her, opening my wallet and pulling out my own card first.

When she stares at me questioningly, I point out, "I've got rewards points here. Also—I know how much the home repairs are costing you. I don't mind chipping in."

"This isn't for the home, though," she murmurs, while the high schooler working the cash register swipes my card without even looking up from the transaction. "It's for Bastian. You don't even know him."

"I know he saved you," I point out, tamping down on the growl that wants to burst from my chest, and clenching my jaw to keep the jealousy at bay. Whether the new mutt is around or not, I can't have her, so there's no point in giving in to the feeling. "Besides, it's not like I want him walking around the house half-naked."

She bursts into laughter at that, her cheeks going red, and I have to inhale and exhale slowly through the snarling of my wolf inside me.

Whether Delilah understands it or not, I want her in a way I've never wanted anything or anyone, to such an extent that it scares me.

If she put her hand against my chest again and sank her magic into my skin, I think I might do anything she said, tell her all my secrets, and follow her to the ends of the earth.

I'm not even sure she would have to coerce me to do it. All she'd have to do is promise a blinding smile from her pretty lips, or bat those green eyes at me, and I would be done for.

Damned me for not having the courage to get closer to her years ago, when it might have counted for something. When fate may have been willing to take a moment at my side.

"Thank you," she says, both to me and the cashier, grabbing a couple of the bags of clothes. "I know it sounds ridiculous, but I won't be able to rest easy until Bastian is safe and comfortable. Having his own things is part of that—I can't just leave him with nothing."

Grabbing the rest of the bags, I tell her, "It's no worry. I'm just glad I can help."

Especially if it gives me another precious moment with her before she inevitably chooses a mate—ormates,which it seems increasingly likely could be possible, a thought I refuse to give me any amount of hope. I don't believe she could ever pick me, and if she ever does, she'll be sure to regret it the instant her magic lets her inside my mind and she sees the full truth about me. While she was gone, I wasn't as kind or noble as she was being, not by a long shot.

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