Page 8 of A Wolf of War
Milo turned his attention back to Poppy. She was detailing the fungal infection in her toenails and how hard she had been trying to get rid of it. Unsuccessfully, she noted. Milo wasn’t sure whether to laugh nervously or simply stare in horrified fascination.
“Poppy, knock it off,” Willow chided with a soft sigh.
“What? This is important for you to know. What if it happens to you?”
“Then I’ll tell a doctor about it and not some stranger who has no choice but to listen to me.”
“He has a choice, Willow. He could walk away at any time.”
Milo smiled softly. “I could never walk away fromWillow.”
Both sisters stopped short, eyeing him incredulously. He’d misstepped. It was far too soon for him to be confessing devotion. On the other hand, it was killing him not to bend her over a bench and take her viciously, screaming to the sky that she was his and his alone.
Milo’s name was called out, signaling that their order was ready. He walked over to the counter to collect everything, leaving the sisters in their uncomfortable silence.
When he returned a few seconds later, they seemed far more guarded. No longer was Poppy happily babbling on, and Willow had her arms crossed, face drawn. He smiled tentatively, handing over their cones, and then cleared his throat.
“Why don’t we sit down?”
His voice carried a vein of authority that most wouldn’t argue with, and this proved to be true for the sisters. Willow and Poppy followed him a few feet to a white picnic table with peeling paint and rickety benches.
Somehow, he still managed to spend most of the day with them, even if it ended with him loaded down with their bags. The entire time, he’d felt their bond shiftand groan beneath the weight of their nearness. He knew that she felt the pull as well. He had been breathing in the proof of her arousal the entire day. They were walking back to the parking garage when he noticed goosebumps rising along Willow’s exposed arms and a little shiver now and then.
“Wait, hold on,” he said, putting the bags down and slipping off his jacket. He put it around Willow’s shoulders, and she sucked in a breath. He wished at that moment that she was breathless, sucking on his cock instead of the air.
“You really don’t have to do that,” Willow muttered, but she was slipping her arms into the sleeves while she said it. Milo smiled warmly, the primal beast inside of him roaring with pleasure that she would be covered in his scent. The mingling of their pheromones was almost irresistible.
Poppy looked on with concern. Milo smiled at her, too, hoping he could dispel the hesitation. He regretted what he’d said earlier. It was going to make this whole thing muchmore difficult.
***
When they reached the car,Willow handed him his jacket. He took it slowly, reluctant to let go, wishing he could leave it with her. If he couldn’t stay in her arms, at least a piece of him could linger. Something he owned should remain close to her, even if he couldn’t.
Poppy had opened the back of the SUV for him to load the bags into. He slipped his jacket into one of the bags, stuffing it down quickly in a single motion. It was a split-second decision, and one he almost regretted. It would have been bliss to breathe in their blended scents while he fucked his hand to the thought of her.
Milo shuddered, mouth watering as the scent of her slick cunt once more took him over. Willow rounded the car, now standing a few feet away, her presence soft but undeniable. He shut the trunk.
“Thanks for hanging out with us, Milo, and for carrying our stuff back.” Her voice was polite, but edged with something he hoped wasn’t fear.
Milo took a step forward, eyeing her body language and assessing how the gesture was received. She tensed but didn’t move from where she was standing.
“Hey, anytime. Thanks for kind of adopting me for the day. We should do this again sometime.”
Willow paused before giving him a smile thatdidn’t quite reach the corners of her eyes.
“Yeah, I think I’d like that.”
“Would you like my phone number?”
Offering his instead of asking for hers would give her the illusion of control, a sense that she held the power in this situation. In reality, she didn’t. She never had—never would. It had always been fate that she would be his.
And besides, he already knew her number. They weren’t hard to find.
Willow nodded, pulling out her phone and entering his number. To his surprise, she gave him her own number right afterward. She gave a small wave, a soft “goodbye,” and walked back around her sister’s car.
Milo made his way back to his own, the need to get home pressing on him.
5
