Page 98 of Wolf's Reckoning
And Wolfe wasn’t inside.
I spotted movement through the back window and instinctively pulled the curtain back a finger’s width—just enough to see him by the tree line. The scent of him sneaked through the open window, and my fingers curled into fists as I took a greedy gulp of air.
He was alone, shirtless, and splitting logs. No aggression. No fire. Just precise, controlled motions that spoke of routine, not rage. Every muscle flexed under his skin. His back moved with clean, lethal power, the kind that didn’t need to be loud to command attention.
I should’ve looked away. I meant to.
But then he paused, leaning on the axe handle, and tipped his head to the side like he was listening. Not to the woods. To something in him.
And then, slowly, like it cost him something to admit it even in private, he whispered, “Rowen.”
My heart jumped. I didn’t move.
He looked toward the house—toward me—eyesnarrowed, as if he sensed me behind the curtain. As if the air had shifted around us, even with walls between us.
“I don’t know what this is,” he murmured, barely audible. “But it’s not going away.”
He dragged a hand down his face, then raked it through his hair, frustration and something more painful written in every motion.
Not lust. Not power.Longing.
I stumbled back from the window like I’d been burned. That wasn’t strategy. That wasn’t control.
He stormed into the house about ten minutes later, and I jumped like I hadn’t been preparing for him. I was on the couch, and Wolfe stopped short when he saw me, growled something under his breath, and then strode down the hall to the bedroom.
The door slammed behind him, and I sat there for a moment, reeling from the sheerenergycoming off of him. Did I follow?
Well, if I was going to share this space with him, then I better go see what was wrong with my husband. It could be something that I could fix for him if it was pack related.
I raised my hand to knock on the door and caught myself in time. This was whereIlived too, so I opened the door with a confidence that I wasn’t feeling.
“Wolfe? I?—”
He was naked.
Naked.
Not one stitch of clothing on. Nothing. Everything was…bare. We were shifters, and clothes didn’t shift with you when you changed forms. I’d seen plenty of naked people in my life. Lots. Tons.
None looked like him.
I swallowed. I stared. I may have forgotten how to breathe. My gaze traced over every inch of him.Everyinch of him.
“My eyes are up here,” he growled, and my eyes moved up to his.
“I—” I turned abruptly, giving him my back. “I didn’t know you’d be naked.” I sounded so stupid.
“It’s fine. I’m sure I’m not the first naked male you’ve seen.”
He sounded furious at the very thought. “Um, no. Of course not. The first one was my dad.”
Wow.
That sounded…wrong. So wrong.
“I mean, obviously in a non-sexual way, and of course it wasn’t even anything like that, you know that, and oh my Goddess, why am I making this worse?”
Warm hands curled over my arms. He was behind me, solid, present, warm,and naked. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you rattled,” he said, his voice low, amused.
