Page 72 of Bad Wolf's Nanny
He hated how on edge he was lately.
The scent had been faint, faded under weeks of rain and wind, but it was there. A stranger. An alpha. Too close to their western perimeter line, near the edge of the Appalachians.
He and Rick had followed it for miles before it vanished into nothing, swallowed by a riverbed and time.
Too clean.
Too intentional.
Dane had paced the perimeter three more times just to be sure, the hair on the back of his neck bristling the entire way. The scent had been unfamiliar, but heavy with aggression, threaded with the sharp, bitter edge of challenge.
Someone had come close.
Too damn close.
And he hadn’t caught them.
Now, standing in front of Lola’s apartment with Sam asleep in the sling strapped to his chest, Dane was vibrating with the kind of tension that made his bones ache. His knuckles cracked as he flexed his hands. It wasn’t just the frustration of losing a trail or the pounding headache that’d followed him since sunrise.
It washer.
If she wouldn’t let him near her, how the hell was he supposed to protect her?
She’d gone ice-cold since their last conversation; civil, yes, but entirely distant. She gave him Sam with polite efficiency,thanked him like he was a colleague, and kept her voice as even and empty as a damn librarian answering the phone.
It shouldn’t hurt.
But it did.
He’d tried telling himself it was better this way. That it was good, she was keeping her distance. That it kept her safe.
He was a liar. And not a very good one.
Dane knocked once, already bracing himself for the wall of awkward silence that had become their routine.
Footsteps sounded. Slower than usual. A soft thump. Keys jingling.
Then the door opened, and everything inside him stilled.
Lola stood there in a fitted charcoal skirt that hit just above the knee, a tucked-in forest green blouse with billowing sleeves, and a wool-lined black coat wrapped tightly around her. She looked like she’d stepped out of an old adventure movie, one where an academic got swept away to some far-off land full of danger and excitement. Only her eyes gave her away, red-rimmed, her lashes still wet, like she’d only just stopped crying.
She looked up at him, and something flickered behind her expression. Something she locked down so fast it made his gut twist.
“Hi,” she said, voice low and clipped. Her fingers curled tightly around the tote bag slung over one shoulder.
“Hi,” Dane said, quieter than he meant to. Sam stirred against his chest, and he adjusted the sling gently. “You just got back from the library?”
She nodded, glancing at Sam but not at him. “Ethel kept me late. There was a shelving issue in the local history section. I didn’t have time to clean up before you came.”
“I don’t care about that,” he said.
“Didn’t say you did.”
Silence stretched between them, brittle as glass.
Lola reached forward to unbuckle the sling and ease Sam into her arms. Her hands were careful, practiced, but her movements weren’t as fluid as usual. Her balance was a little off. Her breath hitched just slightly when she stood upright again.
And Dane’s senses, keyed up after the failed patrol, caught it.
