Page 10 of Forbidden Devotion
With a heavy sigh, Sinclair backed off. Tempting though it was to peer through the windows, he couldn’t risk letting his scent linger to potentially offend the alpha before they’d met.
He headed toward the stream, found a nearby rock overlooking the water, and sat down, his back against a tree. His stomach growled, but he ignored it. Stupid werewolves.
The steady trickle of the current relaxed his nerves and eased his mind. As he savored the fading scent of the mysterious alpha wolf, he let his thoughts roam freely.
Werewolves were so…alive. Snarling creatures they might be, but unafraid to entrench themselves in emotion. If only the negative bits weren’t directed so forcefully toward Sinclair.
And toward his snacks.
* * *
Mitchel
On the lastday of the gathering, Mitchel had only the ballroom gala to suffer through before he could race back to the quiet of his cabin at Borson. At least the live band meant there would be good music. Something to take his mind off the more tedious social aspects.
In a lot of ways, the final dance was the worst of his responsibilities. He hated wearing a suit, and he wasn’t good at small talk.
Or dancing.
Or saying no when Erika was the first to corner him into a dance.
Mitchel couldn’t avoid her request without being rude, so he acquiesced, taking her by the waist with a feigned smile.
Erika smiled too, red lips curled with…was that amusement? Mitchel never knew when she was being sincere. Erika was a hard wolf to read. Dark brown eyes and crescents of silken lashes hid her intentions well.
Tonight her sleek ebony hair hung past her shoulders, loose and tangled over her casual blue sweater, as if she hadn’t cared to dress up for this evening’s event either.
Maybe they had something in common after all.
She leaned in close to his ear. “Couldn’t let you slip away without a bit of fun.” Her voice was a warm lemon-and-honey purr, and she smelled of wild roses, yet Mitchell wasn’t the least bit tempted.
“No, that would be a crime.” He failed to mask his sarcasm.
They twirled along the hardwood floors, under the twinkling lights of paper lanterns, her anticipating his every move flawlessly. “You’ve been avoiding me. Why?”
Mitchel’s chest tightened. He didn’t enjoy being called out and, worse, had no good answer to give. “I’ve been avoiding everyone. No offense meant.”
“None taken.” She moved her hand from his shoulder to his neck, tracing little patterns on his skin with her fingertips.
Mitchel hardened his expression. “I don’t want to be rude—”
“Then don’t be.”
The band transitioned smoothly into a livelier piece with a Latin American flare. The strumming of guitars kept pace with the talented keyboardist as Mitchel swept Erica into as close of a salsa dance as he could manage.
Her laughter vibrated against his chest. “Perhaps I should lead?”
Mitchel let out a surprised chuckle. “Be my guest.”
She didn’t hesitate, and Mitchel found himself expertly guided around the floor. He wouldn’t call this fun, not exactly, but it wasn’t awful either. His mood lifted in spite of himself.
“Tell me,” Erika crooned. “What have you been up to at that university of yours, huh? Wined and dined any frat boys over summer break?”
Mitchel blinked. So she did know he preferred men. Then why this pursuit? “Not lately.” He’d never date one of the students. Too young. “You? Any frat boys where you live?”
“Not even one. Biding my time, waiting for you to see the light, Sparky.” She winked, her open eye gleaming devilishly.
“You know I hate it when you call me that, Know-it-all.” He matched her wink with one of his own.
