Page 21 of Ethan
My throat felt dry. “Yeah. Good as new.”
He didn’t pull his hand away right away. Neither did I.
The tension between us stretched like a live wire, tight and sparking. The air felt heavier, scented with pine and warmth and the subtle pull of his magic still lingering on my skin.
“You really came all the way here for a paper cut?” he asked, voice softer now.
“I came here for you,” I said before I could stop myself.
Ethan’s brows rose, but he didn’t look mad. He looked curious.
“You always this forward?” Ethan asked.
“No,” I admitted. “You bring it out of me.”
He didn’t respond for a second. Just tilted his head, studying me with those bright green eyes like he was trying to see past every layer I kept hidden.
“I have to get ready for patrol,” I said, finally taking a step back. “But thanks. For the healing. And for last night.”
He nodded slowly. “Good luck out there.”
“Maybe when I get back, you can show me that herbal tea blend you talked about,” I said.
“That was for stress,” he said, smirking faintly.
I winked. “Exactly.”
His smile turned into a small laugh, and I turned before I could do something really stupid. Like pull him in by the waist and kiss him right there beside the front desk.
But even as I left the clinic and stepped back into the morning light, my wolf was still growling under my skin. Not angry. Just awake. And very, very certain.Ours.
By the time we hit the third ridge, I was sweating through my shirt and silently planning Griffin’s murder. The western edge of Pecan Pines territory was nothing like I expected.
It wasn’t soft woods and peaceful trails. It was all jagged hills, slick rock faces, and steep climbs that made my thighs burn and lungs scream.
We’d been hiking uphill for over an hour, and Griffin hadn’t slowed down once. Of course, he hadn’t broken a sweat either, the bastard.
I grunted and cursed under my breath as my boot slipped on a loose rock. “Are you sure we can’t shift for this?”
Griffin glanced over his shoulder, that infuriating calm expression on his face. “You’re new to the territory. Better to learn the lay of the land on two legs before you go charging through it on four.”
“Right. ‘So you can take it all in,’” I muttered, mimicking his earlier lecture. “Like I’m on some kind of nature hike.”
He smirked and kept climbing. I hated that I respected him a little. Not that I’d admit it.
By the time we reached the top of the next ridge, the trees thinned and opened into a clearing, and I finally understood why he dragged me up here.
A rustic-looking cabin stood nestled between tall pines, surrounded by open sky and jagged rock. From up here, the view of the territory was sweeping.
Layers of treetops stretching out like a sea of green, broken only by distant ridge lines and the occasional shimmer of water. It was quiet. Peaceful. Even I had to admit, it was nice.
Griffin nodded toward the cabin. “That’s Maurice’s place. Retired enforcer. Lives up here full-time. Keeps an eye on the western border. He also happens to be Micah’s grandfather.”
Before I could respond, the cabin door opened and a man stepped out.
Maurice looked like he’d been carved out of mountain stone. Older, gray at the temples, but tall and broad-shouldered, with eyes like flint and a posture that didn’t hint at retirement at all.
He was still wearing the kind of presence that made younger wolves straighten their spines without thinking.
