Page 37 of Craved By the Werewolf
I didn't answer right away, because the truth was, I didn't know what I was happening. Angry? Relieved? Half out of my mind that she was here instead of in another city? All of it.
By the time we reached my door, her rush of words had slowed to nothing. The silence between us was thick.
I keyed the lock and stepped aside for her to go in first. My voice was low, steady. "We're going to talk. All of it. No interruptions."
And I meant it.
The door shut behind us with a thud. The air inside felt different—quieter, still charged from the walk over.
I leaned back against the door for a second, just looking at her. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Her brow knit. "I did."
"No," I said, sharper than intended. "You disappeared. No call, no text, nothing."
Her chin lifted. "I told you, I left a note."
That stopped me cold. "What note?"
"On the bed," she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Right before I left. I waited for you, but you didn't come back so put it where you would find it..." She trailed off, eyes flicking away. "I thought you'd see it."
I stared at her, the puzzle pieces clicking into place in the most frustrating way possible.
My mouth curved—not in humor exactly, but in grim recognition. "I never saw the note."
Her eyes widened just slightly. The realization hit her at the same time it hit me—she'd tried to say goodbye, and I'd spent hours thinking she'd just... left.
The tightness in my chest eased.
She exhaled, a soft huff of quiet relief. "So you weren't ignoring me."
"And you weren't trying to vanish without a word."
She moved to the window, looking out at the compound. "You know, when I was sitting on that plane, I kept telling myself that LA was everything I'd worked for. National syndication. Bigger markets." She turned back to me, her eyes finding mine. "And then I realized I couldn't name a single thing in LA that mattered more than what I was leaving behind."
"Mystic Ridge," I said, taking a step toward her.
She shook her head. "You."
The word hung between us, simple and profound.
"Don't get me wrong," she added, a hint of her usual spark returning. "I love this town. Haven House, the kids, even the weird little coffee shop that sometimes serves drinks that change your hair color. But none of that is why I got off that plane."
I closed the distance between us slowly, giving her time to change her mind. "LA was your dream."
"Dreams change." Her voice was soft but certain. "I've spent my whole life chasing the next opportunity, the next rung on the ladder. And then you came along and made me want to stay still long enough to see what happens next."
We were standing barely a foot apart now, the low light in my quarters catching the edges of her hair, turning them to fire.
"You're staying," I said. Not a question. My wolf already knew the answer.
She met my gaze head-on. "I'm staying."
The words went through me like a shock—sharp, clean, final. My control, already worn thin from the second she crashed into me, strained to the breaking point.
I stepped into her space, my hands coming to her hips, thumbs brushing the bare skin above her waistband. "If you stay, Vala... you know what that means."
Her breath caught, but she didn't back away. "I know."
