Page 120 of The Piece You Stole

She studies me without expression for several seconds. “Do you like truffles?”

I blink at her. “What?”

“Truffles. Do you like ‘em? You know the mixed box with the dark chocolates, the caramel, the milk chocolate, ones with nuts?”

I furrow my brow in confusion. What does my question about Monica have to do with truffles?

As I wait for Sam to laugh it off as the joke it is, the serious expression stamped on her face doesn’t turn into a grin.

Okay, so this isn’t a joke. She’s actually waiting for a response.

I think about my answer. Occasionally, a girl I would work with would bring in a box that her boyfriend had bought her, and she’d offer me one. Truffles were expensive, so I never bought them for myself, and Rylan never bought me a box either. Maybe he thought gifts like that were beneath him. Maybe he just thought flowers and chocolates were things I wasn’t interested in.

But the few times the girl from work would peel back the bright lid and hold it out to me, telling me to take one, I would stand there in a panic because I couldn’t pick just one. I wanted them all. Reading the card that would tell me all the chocolates the box contained only made the choice even more impossible to make, so I avoided looking at it.

Eventually, conscious I was taking too long to decide, I’d grab one of the foil-wrapped chocolates at random, smile thanks, and spend the next ten minutes nibbling the treat slowly so I could make it last as long as possible. It never mattered if it was dark chocolate, hazelnut praline, an almost tooth-achingly sweet white chocolate, or a milk chocolate mousse. I loved every single piece I chose.

“I guess they’re okay.” I shrug. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Monica was sweet. Don’t think I didn’t like her, because I did.” After another sweep of the garden, she lowers her voice to just shy of a whisper. I’d warn her not to bother since shifter hearing means Dariel—wherever he’s hiding in this wild garden—will still hear her. “But she played favorites.”

Ah.

I raise my eyebrow. “You want to make sure I like all the truffles the same?”

A smile twitches her lips, and a dimple creases her cheek. “They’re friends. Not many people have bosses they can call friends, but the hounds are mine. I don’t want to see them hurt again.” She steps closer. “And I don’t want to see you hurt, either.”

“So this isn’t you—”

Her smile grows. “Craving truffles?” She shakes her head. “No. Just want to be sure you know exactly what you’re getting into.”

That’s the thing. I don’t. But do I tell Sam that I don’t understand why I sometimes want to crawl into Aden’s bed or why it’s Kade that calls the strongest to me, or how sometimes I want them both? No. I don’t.

And then there’s Dariel…

He caught me last night, and there was this strange tension vibrating between us that wasn’t there before. But then his eyes flickered, and his wolf reminded me why I need to avoid him.

Why is he not pushing me to leave?

Why do I care that he has a mate he doesn’t seem to like much?

And why was he watching me sleep?

“Anyway, I’d better go,” Sam says, lifting her hand in a wave. “The guys have my number, call and we’ll go shopping.”

I glance down at my sweats. Or, rather, Kade’s sweats. “Sure,” I smile. Even though I won’t. “Thanks for the flowers. They’re really pretty.”

“What girl doesn’t love roses, huh?” She flashes me a bright grin as she turns away. “Call me, okay? I mean it! We have to get you out of those sweats and into something pretty.”

She sounds like she wants me to, but that isn’t going to happen.

Shopping would involve leaving this house, which, considering Rylan could attack at any moment, would be beyond stupid. It would also involve money, which I don’t have.

I watch as Sam threads her way around the side of the house, my mind returning to a woman called Monica, who the hounds shared but who played favorites.

Spinning around so I can return to the house, I jerk to a stop at the sight of Dariel standing less than a foot behind me.

Being around him isn’t safe, even if I tripped going down the stairs and he stopped me from breaking my neck. His wolf has tried to kill me twice, and I can’t let myself forget that because if I do, it might be the last mistake I ever make.

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