Page 49 of A Wolf of War
And yet…
Her stomach turned.
Lachlan’s words echoed. A mate bond is instinctual… on both parts.
She had felt it—that pull, the unrelenting heat in her blood when Milo was near. It was like gravity had changed its rules and chosen him as her new center. Every time she tried to push it away, it came back stronger. She hated it. Hated how her body and heart refused to fall in line with her brain.
Werewolves. Crime lords. Mate bonds.
None of this was normal. And yet, here she was—sitting on a sun-drenched porch like aprincess in a tower, trapped in what she was sure was someone else’s fairytale.
Titan appeared, snapping her from her thoughts with his muddy boots thudding against the wooden boards as he shoved the back door open with his hip. He was juggling a stack of burger patties in one hand and a large bag of chips in the other. Behind him, Lachlan followed with a tray of marinated chicken and a six-pack dangling from his fingers.
“Hope you’re hungry, Willow,” Titan called out, flashing her a boyish grin as he made a beeline for the grill tucked beside the porch railing. “We’re doing barbecue tonight.”
Willow blinked up at him, squinting against the sun. “Didn’t realize you took dinner requests.”
“Oh, for you? Always,” Lachlan said with a wink, already setting the tray down on the side table beside the grill. “But for now, our dear alpha decided it was a good night for grilling, which usually means we get to do the work and he gets to stand around and supervise.”
“Lies and slander,” came Milo’s voice from the open slider.
Willow’s heart gave an unhelpful lurch.
He stepped through the open door, dressed in dark jeans and a navy t-shirt that clung to his chest and arms in maddeningways. His eyes found hers, that familiar heat sparking to life in their depths.
Willow turned away before he could say anything, fixing her gaze on the garden as if it were the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen.
Unbothered, Milo strolled to the railing and leaned on it beside her, letting the breeze lift a few strands of his hair. “Even prisoners deserve good meals,” he said quietly, eyes still on her.
She didn’t answer.
But she didn’t move away either.
Willow’s voice cut through the air, cool and sharp. “Strange sentiment coming from you. You don’t exactly strike me as a fan of rehabilitation over punishment.”
Milo didn’t respond at first. He stayed where he was, eyes fixed on the tree line like he could see through the pines and straight into whatever future he was dreaming up.
Finally, his voice came low and even. “You might be surprised who I am, Willow, and what I believe. But you’d have to bother to get to know me.”
Then, without waiting for her reply, he pushed off the railing and walked to where Lachlan was setting out utensils. Wordlessly, he picked up the tongs and began helping.
The grill hissed as the first pieces of steak hit the grate, smoke curling upward in thin tendrils. Milo moved with practiced ease. Lachlan stood beside him, sleeves rolled, fussing over the marinade bowl with surgical precision.
Titan was leaned against the porch rail with a cold beer in hand, watching the whole thing unfold like it was the most effort he planned to exert all day.
“Do you think McGarvey will give me an extension on—” Titan began.
Milo didn’t look up, cutting him off. “No, and I think it would be a mistake to ask him for one.”
Willow heard them vaguely, their voices drifting across the yard. She didn’t so much as lift her head. The book in her lap was open again, her thumb idly holding the page.
After some blessedly quiet time, the sun began its descent behind the trees, casting long, amber shadows across the yard. The scent of grilled meat clung to the air, rich and decadent. Lachlan was plating ribs and skewers with careful hands, humming to himself as he arranged everything on the outdoor table. Milo stood by the grill, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
Titan had just cracked open another beer when Milo turned.
“Alright,” Milo said, voice low, “dinner’s ready… but first, Titan, we have some unfinished business regarding the night Willow met you.”
The younger wolf froze, bottle half-raised to his lips. “What’d’ya mean?”
