Page 19 of The Wolf's Kidnapped Mate

This was it.

I was venturing out today for the first time in a year.

A whole damn year.

As the truck lurched onto the main road, I couldn’t help the smile on my face. Tears stung my eyes as the lump in my throat exploded, sending pressure right through my chest and to my core. Excitement consumed my very being as we hustled right up to twenty, thirty, and then forty miles per hour, each threshold marked by Fred adjusting the gear shift to the appropriate number.

I didn’t much understand manual vehicles, seeing as we had plenty of automatics, but the sheer joy that reverberated from Fred right now—the jovial pleasure that poured out of his eyes as he dared to look over at me—shoot, nothing could beat that feeling of satisfaction.

Nothing at all.

We didn’t speak much as we headed into town. It wasn’t until he pulled up to a normal-looking street in the most normal-looking part of Beaufort that the sensation truly hit me.

I wasn’t on pack land anymore.

I shivered as I hopped out of the tall truck, wincing as I forced the door shut. “Might as well name it Goliath or something.”

Fred appeared from around the front of the vehicle and stood near me with the keys twirling on his right finger. They didn’t make a sound as he spun them around the digit, eyes glowing with interest as he stared down at me. He tucked his left hand into the pocket of his baggy charcoal-black pants, dipping his shoulder in that direction in a sort of nonchalant, bad-boy kind of stance.

His black shirt had gray stripes and looked like it had seen better days. It hung loosely around his muscular frame, hiding what I knew to be defined pecs and abs underneath. It almost seemed unfair to hide that statuesque physique on such a warm day—but who was I to judge his poor fashion choices?

I fixed my hair and glanced around, feeling overwhelmed by the sight of beautifully constructed tar roads with sidewalks, decadently trimmed trees, and shops as far as the road extended. Boutiques, antiques, tourist spots, and local cafés made up this road. I wanted to go inside every single shop and talk to every single person in the vicinity.

I was practically salivating over the idea.

But as I tried to brush past Fred, he caught my shoulder, his touch like lightning against my bare skin. “Boba first.”

“But I wanna—” My faraway stare stopped short at the sight of his thin lips parting.

Oh. I hadn’t realized how close I’d stepped, or how he had drifted toward me to keep me from walking off, or how he was bowing toward me, his white hair scooting over his eyebrow and drifting toward his mouth…

I pushed the lock of hair behind his ear. Right then, I felt the whole world shift, like we were two wolves standing on a rotating disc. Too much weight in one direction would topple us off, so we had to stay still.Ihad to stay still, or else I might do something weird with the guy who didn’t even have the dang balls to tell menoto my face.

“Sorry, I just…” His attention dropped to my mouth. No way were we both doing the same thing right now. He tried to give me some excuse for why he had stopped me. “I just didn’t—”

“Want me wandering off?”

Neither of us moved. Were we just frozen in time now?

He blinked. He stepped back. He looked away.

And I tried to pretend like that didn’t make my heart sink.

He seemed to shake off the funk and put his usual steel mask into place. Sharp eyes, stone expression, a flat line for a mouth. His brows were relaxed, but I could tell he was watching everything, even if he didn’t look in any specific direction.

He nodded toward my right—there was a boba shop right frickin’ there. I’d been so distracted by the street, by the fact that I wasfree, that I just hadn’t noticed it.

Among other things.

He opened the entrance door for me, guiding me inside by the small of my back. The slightest pressure there made heat blossom in my core. I stepped up to the counter, inhaling the rich smells of baked goods and freshly brewed tea. Everything looked so good that I couldn’t figure out what I wanted to get.

Behind the counter, the short attendant wore a visor with cat ears over their red hair and a thick mask that had whiskers on it. Their smile was evident in their crimson-brown eyes even though their mouth was hidden. They wore a typical barista uniform made of a black collared shirt, slacks, and a matching black apron with a giant kawaii cat paw printed on the front.

Fred leaned toward the counter and ordered quickly in a husky voice. “Two strawberry milk teas, half sugar level, star jelly pearls, regular sized.”

The attendant quietly tapped the screen in time with his order.

“Two mochi waffles, one chocolate and the other—” He narrowed his eyes at me like he was trying to read my mind. “—and the other brown sugar.”

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