Page 68 of The Weakest Wolf

I lift my head to meet his eyes for the first time since I knocked on his door and told him I needed his protection. “I’m tired. Do you mind if I go lie down?”

A slow smile slides across his face. “Sure, my bed is through there,” he says, pointing at a closed door.

Even though Bowen’s cabin is big enough for him to have a separate bedroom and kitchen, I doubt I’d have gotten lost on the way.

As I push the door open, Neale murmurs in a hushed tone. “You and Sierra?”

“You sound surprised,” Bowen responds, a smile in his voice.

The only thing in the room I step into is a queen-sized bed covered with a navy comforter. It’s small enough that there isn’t even room for a dresser.

I look at the bed, and I start shaking.

If the window was any larger, I’d climb out of it and run and run.

“Just didn’t think you were into her,” Neale says as I force myself to cross over and sit on the edge of the bed.

My breathing exercises don’t seem to be working, so I squeeze my eyes shut and concentrate harder. I can’t afford to fall apart now.

Not when I’m so close to ending things once and for all.

My mind flashes back to Leo. He nearly got away. Not only that, he realized before I stabbed him what I was going to do and nearly stopped me.

I can’t let that happen with Bowen. I wouldn’t survive failure.

Outside, Bowen and Neale’s conversation continues. With my eyes closed, I listen as Bowen orders Neale to make sure Galen is really gone. That he isn’t playing some trick. Then he wants everyone to gather for an announcement, and I can guess what he’ll be telling them.

Their conversation doesn’t go on long enough, because it feels like only seconds later, the cabin door snicks shut.

My heart palms turn clammy, because I know what’s coming.

All you have to do is kill Bowen, and then it’s over.

Bowen’s footsteps stop at the door and, opening my eyes, I lift my head to meet his gaze. Now it’s just us.

Now it’s time.

“Get on the bed.” His words are nothing less than an order. But he hasn’t finished yet. “And take off the blanket. I want to see all of you.”

I release my tight grip on the blanket and do as he says, shifting to lie on the bed.

For several minutes he stands there, his eyes locked on my body.

When he grips the bottom of his shirt and pulls it over his head to reveal a pale, lean, muscled chest, I silence my internal scream. “You’re very beautiful,” he says, as he steps out of his boots. “But I’m sure you must know that already.” His hands move to the waistband of his pants, and my heart stops.

Please don’t take them off.

I don’t think I’ve ever wished for anything more than I do at that moment.

“Not really. There’s nothing special about me.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he murmurs, a faint smile on his lips. “I’d say you were very special.”

He seems to change his mind about removing his pants and drops his hands.

Thank God.

His eyes never leave me as he climbs onto the bed, only stopping when he’s on his side close beside me.

---