Page 102 of Storm
For the first time in longer than I can remember, I allow myself to feel something dangerous.
Hope.
Chapter28
Storm
The mountain air is cool against my heated skin as I sit on the wide porch. My dog-eared copy ofThe Hunger Games,open in my lap. I've read it so many times the pages have gone soft, the corners bent and worn.
It's been three days since Reed and I crossed that final line, three days of discovering each other in ways I never imagined possible. Three days of gentle touches and passionate encounters of learning the shape of his body and the taste of his skin.
Three days, and I haven't seen Jonathan once.
I know he returned. Fox mentioned it during breakfast, his eyes lighting up in that special way they do whenever he speaks of his alpha. But Jonathan has kept his distance, hiding in his study or out walking the perimeter of the property, always managing to be elsewhere whenever I enter a room.
It's deliberate, this avoidance. I can feel it in the way his scent lingers in spaces I just missed him in, the way conversations hush when I approach. What I don't understand is why.
The wooden steps creak behind me, and I turn, expecting to see Rook or Frankie coming to call me in for dinner. Instead, I find myself looking up into familiar green eyes, sharper and more intense than Alexander's identical pair.
"Jonathan," I say, his name coming out softer than I intended.
He pauses, one foot still on the step, as if considering retreat. His eyes flick to the book in my lap, recognition flickering across his features.
"Katniss Everdeen," he says. "Fitting."
I snap the book closed, suddenly self-conscious. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He moves to sit beside me on the porch swing. Not too close, but close enough that his smoky cedar and black pepper scent wraps around me like a physical embrace.
"A girl thrust into a game she never wanted to play," he says, nodding toward the book. "Fighting against a system designed to control her. Sound familiar?"
I tuck the book closer to my chest, protective of both it and the comparison. "At least she got to volunteer. I didn't get a choice when I presented."
For a long moment, neither of us speaks. The silence stretches, not uncomfortable exactly, but charged with all the words we haven't said. All the things that have changed since that night I drew his pack from the lottery.
"Beautiful sunset," Jonathan finally says, his deep voice breaking the quiet.
I glance sideways at him, surprised by the change of topic. "That's what you want to talk about? The weather?"
A ghost of a smile touches his lips. "I thought it might be safer than the alternatives."
"Since when have you known me to choose the safe option?" I challenge, turning to face him fully.
His eyes meet mine, green depths unreadable. "Fair point." He looks away, toward the mountains painted gold and pink by the setting sun. "You seem... happy. With Reed."
The statement catches me off guard.
"I am," I admit, because there's no point denying it. "He's... not what I expected."
"Few of us are, when you look beneath the surface."
There's something in his tone that makes me study him more carefully. Jonathan looks tired, the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that comes from carrying too much weight for too long. His usual perfect posture has a slight slump to it, and shadows linger beneath his eyes.
"Fox told me what you did," I say quietly. "How you stood up to your fathers. How you protected this place. Protected all of us."
Jonathan stiffens slightly, his gaze still fixed on the horizon. "It was necessary."
"It was brave," I counter. "And kind, in a way I wouldn't have believed you capable of when we first met."
