“I should go,” he said, the words automatic. He took a step toward the door, toward the cold and the rain and the solitude he knew he deserved. “No sense staying.”
“What, a big bad wolf like you afraid of the dark?” The words were light, a gentle tease, but her eyes held a challenge. She held the candlestick a little higher, a silent invitation. “I dare you to wait it out with me. I’ll even break out Miriam’s emergency whiskey.”
His mind screamed at him.Leave. Now. This is a trap. Too close. Too dark. Too dangerous.Leaving was the right thing to do, the only way to keep the wall between them solid. It was the only way to keep her safe from the ghosts that followed him.
But his wolf, so often a restless, angry beast he had to fight into submission, was suddenly, unnervingly still. It wasn’t pacing. It wasn’t snarling. It was watching her, standing in the warm glow of the firelight she offered, and it felt the howling chaos of the storm outside and the quiet sanctuary inside. The wolf wanted to stay. It wanted the warmth. It wanted its mate.
The silence stretched, filled only by the drumming of rain and the whistle of wind through the eaves. He looked from the front door, a dark rectangle promising a wet and lonely night, to her, a fixed point of light and warmth in the consuming dark.
He gave a slow, reluctant nod, the motion feeling like it was pulled from him. “Fine,” he heard himself say. “But just until the storm breaks.”
She smiled, a small, genuine curve of her lips that did more damage to his defenses than the entire storm could do to the roof. “Deal.”
She turned and led the way toward the parlor. The candlelight threw their shadows long and distorted against the walls, making them seem like the only two people left in the world. He followed her into the room, the heat from the hearth reaching for him, pulling him in. The storm raged outside, and the inn held them in its quiet, dark embrace. His wolf settled in his chest, not with a growl, but with a deep, patient hum. Waiting.
Thunder crashed overhead, rattling the windows in their frames. Diana flinched slightly at the sound, then laughed at herself.
"I love storms," she said. "Always have. Something about the raw power of it."
"Not scared?"
"Of thunder? No. Of other things, maybe." She glanced at him sideways. "What about you? Anything scare you?"
You,his wolf whispered.What you make me want. What I could lose.
"Not much," he said aloud.
"Practical answer from a practical man." Diana pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. "Though I'm starting to think there's more to you than practical."
"Like what?"
"Like the way you know exactly which floorboard will creak before you step on it. Like how you can tell what the building needs just by listening to it." She turned to face him fully. "Like how you stayed tonight instead of going home to ride out the storm alone."
The firelight turned her amber eyes to gold, and Rowan felt his careful control begin to fray. His wolf pushed closer to the surface, drawn by her warmth and the intimate space the storm had created around them.
"Maybe I just wanted to make sure the tarps held."
"Maybe." She didn't sound convinced. "Or maybe you wanted to make sure I was okay."
The truth of it hit him like a physical blow. He had stayed for her, drawn by instincts deeper than conscious thought. His mate, alone in a dark building during a storm. Every protective instinct he possessed had rebelled at the idea of leaving her.
"Diana."
"Rowan." She said his name like a challenge, like a dare. "Stop running from whatever this is."
Lightning flashed again, closer this time, followed immediately by thunder that shook the building. The storm was directly overhead now, nature unleashing its full fury on the small town below.
"You don't understand," he said roughly. "The things you don't know about me?—"
"Then tell me."
"It's not that simple."
"It could be." She leaned forward slightly, close enough that he saw the pulse beating at her throat. "Whatever happened before, whatever you're running from—it doesn't have to define what happens now."
His wolf surged forward, demanding he close the distance between them. Demanding he claim what was his by right of blood and bone and the ancient laws that governed their kind. The scent of her filled his lungs, sweet and warm and perfectly, impossibly right.
"Diana," he said again, her name a warning.
