Page 83 of Knot Your Problem, Cowboy
She exhales. “Cheerful.”
“Wait for it.” I rest my chin lightly on top of her head. “Perseus saw her there. Chained. Alone. And hedidn’t keep walking. He fought the monster, freed her, and made her his queen.”
Silence lingers between us, heavy and quiet. I stare at the stars, but I feel her watching me.
“Sometimes,” I add, voice lower now, “we have to be chained to the rock before we find what we’re really meant for. Until we find that answer or… person.”
She pulls back slowly, and when our gazes meet, her expression is softer than I’ve ever seen it. In the moonlight, her eyes are vivid green.
“You shouldn’t hide that romantic streak under all that brooding,” she says, almost a whisper. “You’re an amazing guy, Ridge. So easy to talk to and…”
Her gaze flicks down to my mouth. Lingers.
For a second, I think she’s going to close the space between us. My heart stumbles. Every instinct says to lean in, to taste her, to take just one moment for myself.
But she looks away. The space stretches out again, and the moment is gone.
Of course.
Why would she want the broken one when she already has two perfect matches?
Without scent, sure, we could be together. Plenty of couples make it work. But what if that’s not what she wants after her first Alpha wasn’t a scent match? And that turned out fucked up.
And I’d always know it.
I turn to stare at her again, heart thundering against my ribs. That’s when a growl slices through the quiet, low and close enough to twist something cold in my gut.
Sophia startles, but before she can speak again, I’m already moving. I shove her gently behind me, body snapping to attention, instincts taking over.
“What was that?” Her voice is tight, barely more than a breath.
“Coyotes, I think,” I say, scanning the dark tree line. “Or wolves.” My attention catches the shift of movement slinking low in the shadows not too far to our left. Close. Too close.
She presses into my back, her hands gripping the fabric of my shirt like she needs something solid to hold on to. Fuck, I love that. That she trusts me to protect her. That she seeks me out when it counts.
“We need to move. Stay close,” I mutter, bending to grab a thick fallen branch, long as a bat, dense and weighty in my grip. I take her hand with my free one and start toward the house to our right, keeping her tucked into my side, shielding her with my body.
“Shit,” she breathes. “It’s moving again.”
“Yeah,” I say, the branch gripped tightly in my hand. “Stay behind me. Eyes on the guesthouse.”
“Do they usually come this close to the house?”
“Not unless they’re hungry,” I mutter. “Real hungry.”
Her breath catches. I don’t need to see her face to know she’s scared. I can feel it in the way she clings to me, the way her steps falter.
Two shapes peel out of the shadows. Lean, ragged coyotes, eyes catching the moonlight like glass. Hungry. Starving. Unpredictable.
“Don’t run,” I say low, firm. “Whatever you do, stay behind me.”
She nods, her fingers locking around mine. Her pulse thumps through that one point of contact. Hell, maybe mine is just as fast.
I stop walking and slam the stick hard against the ground. The sound echoes like a gunshot in the stillness. “Back off!” I bark. “Go on!”
They flinch but don’t bolt. Just prowl lower. Closer. Eyes never leaving us.
“Ridge…” she whispers, pressing even tighter against my side now. I feel her body tremble, and something raw, something ancient, rises up inside me. A possessive fury that coils tight in my chest. Mine.
