Page 50 of The Strongest Wolf

Galen’s pack would laugh and never stop laughing.

Just like the Stones.

A blast of memory hits. I’m back in Dexter, fighting to get out of the sheet they’ve trapped me in after they dragged me from the shower and shoved me to the ground. But it’s the laughter that’s the worst, endless ringing in my ears. My pain, my terror, is nothing but a fun game for them.

Galen tells me that not all packs are like the Stones, but he’s asking me to expose my weakest side—my wolf—and trust that they won’t hurt us.

I trust Galen, but he’s not his pack, and his pack isn’t him. If he’s wrong…

No.

I can’t trust people I’ve never met before.

Not after the cruelty I left behind in Dexter.

My eyes burn, and I angle my head away from Galen. I just need a minute to think. To put myself back together again. Just one minute.

I step around Galen, head down, ignoring his call after me. There’s only one room with a door in the cabin, so I speed-walk into the bathroom and push the door closed behind me.

Squeezing my eyes shut as I work to steady my racing heart, I can’t help but overhear Galen’s terse conversation with Nathan. He doesn’t have much to say. Neither does Nathan. But when you threaten to rip someone’s throat out if they even breathe heavily around you, how else can they respond?

When the snick of the front door closing announces that it's just me and Galen again, I peel my eyes open and take a second to study my reflection in the mirror.

My eyes are just a little too red for me to have slept through the night. And my shoulders… they’re so tense that they’re practically touching my ears.

I release a breath, relax my shoulders, and try out a grin that lets the world know Sierra has it together.

Only to wince at the grimace calling itself a smile.

Needs work, Sierra. Needs a lot of work.

“Sierra?” Galen calls, sounding like he’s standing on the other side of the door.

I cross over to the toilet and flush it. He won’t buy that I came in here because I needed the bathroom, but it makes me feel a little less pathetic than knowing I came in here to hide.

Again.

Just like when I tried to hide my nightmare from him, my gaze lands on a male chest the moment I swing it open. This time he’s thought to pull a white t-shirt on, so I don’t have as nice a view as I did before. It’s not a bad view, not by any stretch of the imagination. It couldn’t be with powerful muscles straining against cotton. But it could be better.

Angling my head, I meet his somber green-eyed gaze. “You didn’t need to threaten him.”

He snorts. “Yes, I did. It was either a threat or rip his head off.”

“I heard,” I mutter as I ease around him.

And just like when I had my nightmare, he doesn’t let me get further than the doorframe he pins me against. He lowers his head, his lips touching my brow as he curves one arm around my waist and presses me against him.

I brace myself for all the things he’s preparing to say. He’s changed his mind about being with a submissive wolf, he won’t let me go until I start talking, or he thinks I should stay here with the Blackshaws while he returns to ‘prepare’ his pack for my arrival.

But he says none of that.

He says nothing at all.

I wait, and I wait, until the tension gripping my body eases.

And minutes later, when he continues to say nothing, I relax against him, letting myself absorb the heat radiating from his skin.

That’s when he steps closer. “This is becoming a habit,” I murmur as I wrap my arms around his hips and rest against him.

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