He’s simply in my line of sight through the window by my workbench and he’s impossible to miss.
The gleaming tendrils of brown hair curling across his forehead invite me to sift my fingers through. The captivating shape of his mouth when the tip of his tongue sticks out of the side in concentration makes my mouth go dry. The skilled movements of his powerful body lead my mind to imagine him tossing me over his shoulder or chasing me down in the meadow.
Even without the bond influencing me with mate-vision to highlight his tempting features, his draw on my attention is irresistible.
It always has been.
No other male in the pack ever interested me. Only him.
His presence makes my wolf purr and stretch out within me. His scent hangs in the air all around the cottage, finding its way through every crack and crevice to let me know he’s there in case I forgot.
I wouldn’t. There’s no way I could ever be unaware when he’s near.
At this point, I’ve lost count of the number of days in a row he’s come here, but there are reminders of him all around.
A blanket I started taking out for him when his wolf returns every night folded over a chair.
Wildflowers he’s brought me asking if they’re anything I can use dotting the cottage windowsills and my workbench in makeshift vases from spare jars.
The extra water glass on the counter he likes to dump over his head before refilling and downing in long gulps that make me warm while staring at the bobbing of his bared throat, thoughts of licking it and wrapping myself around him tugging at me.
The feelings these visits stir in me leave me lighter and my sisters have taken notice. The hope and trust I buried deep inside me flickers to life, cautiously opening myself back up to him. I’ve been so focused on surviving day to day, ensuring my family is taken care of, that I didn’t think I’d ever find these parts of myself again, let alone because of him when he’s the one that shattered them when he broke my heart the first time.
I can’t deny that I like it when he comes up here. When I hear him laughing at Beatrix’s lively jokes on the porch. When he asks Lena about her book. When he catches my eye and something burning passes between us before he gives me a heart-stopping smile.
I do my best to focus on taking stock of my inventory before I start moving some of it down to the healer’s cabin. I told Alisha that I’d ease into being there and she promised to soften Eugene up.
Every few minutes, I find my attention drifting out the window, fingertips brushing my sternum where a soft warmth emanates.
Caden lifts a hoe overhead, treating me to a perfect view when he drives it into the ground with a grunt that’s way hotter than it should be. I drink him in, a coil of desire curling in my core the longer I watch. The display teases something primal within me.
He stops, tilts his head as if he’s listening for something, then his shoulders shake with a pleased laugh. He shoots me a smirk before returning to his task.
There’s no way he knows I was watching, is there? I snap my focus back to inventory. When I least expect it, the sensation of lips brushing all over me makes me drop my pen with a clatter. The phantom mouth begins with kisses to my nape, then progresses in a slow exploration down the column of my throat to the space between my breasts.
I grip the edge of the workbench and bite my lip to contain a whimper. Then it stops, leaving me turned on without relief. I peek at the window, finding him working like he didn’t do anything.
The urge to go outside niggles at me. I hold out for a few moments before I venture to the porch under the guise of gathering fresh clippings. He stops working.
“You like your new things?” He nods to my shears, leaning on the hoe.
“I—yes. I do, thank you for them.”
“Good.” His broad chest puffs with pride.
Something tugs at me. An invisible tether. It’s faint at first, then more insistent. My eyes widen as the astral magic jerks me until I stumble off the porch. He’s there to catch me with an inviting rumble.
“What was that?” I ask when he steadies me.
“I wanted you closer, so I gave you a tug.”
He flashes a grin at me that’s full of charming mischief and amusement. A flutter dances in my chest, my heart skipping a beat.
I trace the spot I felt the pull with a soft smile. “How do you keep doing that?”
Curious to know how it works, I search for the bond within myself. It’s much stronger now, no longer the tattered mess it was left in by his rejection. The shimmering threads of magic are weaving back together in some places to mend what was broken.
I give them an experimental stroke, startling when it makes him falter. He drops the tool with a groan, throwing out a hand to catch himself on the porch. My stomach dips at his shudder of pleasure.
“Avery,” he breathes.
The corners of my mouth lift and I do it again, slower, trying to tease it to give him a taste of what it’s like when he does it to me.
“Is that it?”
“Yeah.” A huff of laughter slips out with a delicious tinge of roughness to it. “Fuck, that feels so—”
He grabs me with a sexy growl. I gasp, peering into his hooded eyes. They’re dark with arousal, his hardness pressing into me. Spiced cedar wrapped with sweet sunshine and rain-soaked earth drowns me. It’s the alluring blend of us. Our scents together. I wet my lips, lashes fluttering at how heady it is.
“If you keep doing that, I’m not going to be able to control myself around you,” he rasps.
My gaze hones in on his mouth. “You started it.”
He buries a grin in my hair. “I did.”
Being in his arms brings me so much comfort. I could stay like this all day, pressed against his chiseled body. I’d like to sprawl in a breezy meadow and rest my head on his firm chest to nap after a run together. Feel his large palms petting me all over. Straddle him and sink down his cock until he fills my aching pussy over and over.
Air gusts from my lungs and I shiver. My own control is on the brink of snapping. If I don’t move, I might present for him right here in the open. His grip tightens and he inhales with a faint gravelly hum.
It’s far more difficult than it should be to pull back, but he releases me without complaint. We untangle and he turns away to adjust himself while I go to my garden to cool the heat blooming in my face.
I spend a few minutes cutting sprigs of plants at random until I feel less like getting on all fours, sticking my ass in the air, and begging for him to knot me.
Caden gives me space, going back to digging. I appreciate how patient and considerate he’s been.
I want this. I do, but the intense bouts of need that throw taking anything slow out the window make me hesitate. I’m questioning if I can trust that my feelings are truly my own because of it. Or if he genuinely wants me.
It shouldn’t matter this much to me. A fated mate is a shifter’s perfect match. My wolf doesn’t see the problem either. The complicated history between us doesn’t make sense to her. He’s our mate and she wants him, end of story.
Deep down I think part of me is still afraid to fully open my heart again so quickly after it’s been fractured too many times.
I’m not in heat yet and he doesn’t seem in danger of falling into a rut, but I’m worried if I resist for too long the bond will push us together in any way it can to appease the Fates. Hopefully we still have time before it comes to that. I wouldn’t want to be lost to the insatiable lust of a mating frenzy our first time.
Once I’ve calmed down, I lean against the edge of the porch to watch him work. “What are you doing out here?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m expanding your garden for you.”