Page 38 of Wolf Trapped
“Is there like cleaning supplies or anything here? The dust is clinging to me.” I say and then sneeze, and Archer chuckles.
“Should be something under the sink.” He points to the open area kitchenette. It’s barely got a countertop and a sink with an old camp stove on the top, but at least it has running water and electricity.
I stride over to the sink, open the cabinet, and sneeze again. As I reach for the cleaner, a spider crawls down its web in front of me, and I scream.
“What is it?” Archer is beside me in a second as I scramble back, hitting the other counter and nearly toppling the camp stove on my head.
“Spider scared the shit out of me,” I huff out, pointing dramatically at the creepy eight-legged freak.
“You literally turn into a wolf, and you're scared of a little spider? It’s not even a poisonous one.” He shakes his head and grabs a paper towel. He gets the spider on the paper towel in his hand and takes it outside.
What in the actual fuck? Did I mate with a complete lunatic?
“You are completely insane,” I grumble. “Spiders are evil and crawl in your mouth when you sleep.” I shudder. Archer chuckles again. He comes back over, reaching in front of me, and grabs the cleaner setting it on the counter and closing the cabinet.
“All good. The devil spider is outside. No need to worry.” I find myself once again wanting to punch my alpha in the face. Actually, this is a common occurrence lately.
I sneeze again and get to work on cleaning the cabin to get the dust out. I open the windows to let in some fresh air. The house is a bit musty from being closed up for so long. “I’m going to cut some firewood.” Archer grunts, and I shrug.
I hum under my breath as I clean, wishing we’d brought the music player with us when we came out here. It was so quick though I didn’t even get to pack my e-reader. I sigh and continue cleaning when there’s a loud clang out the window.
Unable to help myself, I walk over to the window, and my jaw drops at what I see. Will I ever get over the sheer beauty that is Archer’s muscled body? His muscles bunch as he lifts an ax over his head. He swings back down, and there’s a clang again as the wood splits in two.
His ass looks fantastic in those jeans as he turns and bends over to grab the wood and toss it on a small pile. Gods, how can someone so closed off and just a complete asshole look so hot? It’s really unfair. “Like what you see, mate?”
My cheeks heat as Archer catches me perving on him. Fuck. I turn away quickly, and he chuckles. Fuck his stupid beautiful face.
I am exhausted when the cabin is finally clean, and I flop down on the couch. The only sound is the steady clang of the ax chopping the wood outside the window. The sun drops behind the trees, and the air chills slightly, making me shiver.
I pull the throw blanket off the back of the couch, wrapping it around me tightly, and stare into the cold, empty fireplace. Where is my bag? Did we leave them in the truck? Resigning myself to getting up and going outside, I wrap the blanket tighter around me and stand from the couch, wandering out to the truck.
I try and fail not to peek at my mate as he swings the ax, the pile of wood growing to his waist height. How long does he plan on us staying out here? I shake off the feeling of dread. Archer doesn’t want me around the pack. Is he buying into Rochelle’s insane ramblings about me being bad luck and a danger to the pack?
Did he bring me out here, so no one else gets hurt? I’m not stupid. I know that the rogue injured Carter. I chew my lip and open the door to the truck's cab, finding my bag along with my laptop and my tablet, and nearly sigh. Did Archer bring my things? I didn’t pack those.
I peek over at Archer and shake my head as I grab my things from the truck. He is still chopping wood, and sweat rolls down his muscular back even in the cooler evening air. That man is such a contradiction. His actions show he cares, but his words sting more often than not.
Archer turns to pick up the pieces he just chopped, and I turn away before he catches me staring at him again like a lovesick fool. I’m not. Most of the time, I can barely tolerate him and his bullshit.
I am slowly learning this technology stuff, and I sit on the couch, set the laptop on my thighs, and open it, looking for the movie app Archer put on there. As I start the movie, Archer’s half-naked ass walks in, arms bulging with firewood, and I nearly groan out loud but hold it in.
Archer bends at the waist right in front of me, and his perfect ass is right in my face. Fuck. The level of control it takes not to smack his ass is actually pretty impressive. I have to repeatedly remind myself that I am mad at him no matter how fucking gorgeous my mate is.
He separated me from the pack because I am a danger to them. He’s buying into Rochelle’s bullshit. He thought I was using him and stormed out on me when I just needed to go for a run. His answer to everything is locking me in my room. Don’t forget Jara. He’s a beast and will never be anything more than that.
“Jara,” Archer says loudly, and it’s apparent that he has tried several times to get my attention.
“Hmm,” I turn my gaze from his perfect ass to peer into his eyes.
“Are you hungry?” He asks with a smirk. I don’t miss the innuendo in his tone, either—the ass. Fucker thinks it’s hilarious flaunting that damn body in my face.
“Sure,” I say, turning back to the laptop and rewinding the movie because I just missed the first five minutes lost in perving on my mate's ass.
Huffing out a breath, I lean into the arm of the couch and curl my legs beneath me, getting comfortable. I focus firmly on the screen in front of me as Archer moves around the cabin. The fire is crackling happily in the fireplace and heating the cozy house quickly.
“I brought canned foods and stuff that will cook on the camp stove. There isn’t a refrigerator here, so I couldn’t bring anything up that will spoil.”
“That’s fine.” I shift in my seat. Archer is cooking, and it makes me feel guilty. I usually cook when I’m not locked up in the bedroom by myself. I still don’t understand why he couldn’t just lock me in the house.
