Page 72 of Wolf’s Fated Bride

“Dealing with gossip comes with the territory. I would think you know that, given that you were born into a leading family.”

“If my parents suspect anything, they’ll press the staff for the truth and learn about the laundry.”

“The staff speculates. Nobody knows for sure. Besides, we’re all leaving soon enough, so it won’t matter what rumors your pack spreads. You won’t have to deal with any of it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I told you and informed your parents. I even framed it as a request to soothe your father’s ego.”

“He rejected your request.”

“I don’t need his permission.”

Fuming, I approach the bed. Ash sits up and rests an arm over his knee, appearing casual.

“I’m not going anywhere with you. Certainly not after what you pulled today.”

His eyes narrow. “Is that so?”

“It is.”

“You’re coming with me, and we’re going to figure out why you play with fire but never get burned. We mated, and now you’re mine.”

“I’m not yours!”

Ash rears back and inhales a strangled breath. Silence falls in the room. I think I might’ve offended him. Or worse, hurt his feelings. But that would be very stupid of me to think, since he has no feelings for me. Why would he? We spent a night together. Wolves do that all the time. For us, mating under the full moon is as common as a one-night stand.

We stare at each other, and a familiar feeling develops in my chest. This one is painful, as if a fisherman threw a line and caught my heart on the hook, and now he tugs it toward him. My chest might tear open as I stumble toward Ash.

“Can I… Can I sit?” I ask him.

He nods.

I press a hand over my chest and sit on the foot of the bed with my feet up. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know, but denying the things that are happening between us won’t make them go away. I intend to find out why I have stains on my palm from when I touched you and why you can’t heal from the burn, yet you can walk through my fire unscathed.”

I admit he’s got a point. The pain in my chest eases as I breathe in and out, focusing on it. I look over at him.

“I know where you are,” I tell him. “When I think about you, I can feel if you’re near or far. If I focus on tracking you down, there’s this tugging feeling, like you’re pulling a string that’s hooked to my chest and it leads me to you.”

“Tugging?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“I think you’re referring to the internal compass that led me to your nest.”

“That’s very poetic.”

“I’m trying to get laid again.”

I laugh. He disarms me in seconds. Folds me like an umbrella. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“I deserved it. Come here.” He snatches me by the waist and pulls so I lie on top of him, where he can lock me in a position I can’t move from.

I rest my elbows on the pillow behind his head. He has a handsome face. The beard is filling in, and it looks good on him. Maybe everything looks good on this male. But he’s stubborn. I don’t think I can dissuade him from taking me with him, and I fear denying him isn’t an option.

“I’ll visit my parents and talk them into accepting your decision. For the treaty’s sake, I’ll say. That might work. I’ll bring up a short time frame.”