Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
I hid in my–er, Wilde’s–room to eat my dinner and hadn’t really ventured out since. My mom has been trying to get us to do sit-down dinners together as a get-to-know-each-other kind of thing, but there was no way I was going to hang around tonight.
Not with the mood dear old dad was in.
Honestly, he terrifies me.
Not because he’s been mean to me. He hasn’t. But he’s pretty much a stranger and as of three weeks ago, we’re suddenly living in his house, under his rules. And he’s your typical male wolf with strong alpha tendencies. He was captain of the football team, just like his son. He married one of the cheerleaders. Screwed the rest of them, I’m sure because I think the guy gets around.
I’m surprised Wilde was his only pup until now.
His wife–again, wife, not fated mate–left him the moment Wilde graduated high school. It was the classic “staying together for the kids” marriage. I guess she moved back to her home pack in Ohio.
I didn’t expect him to marry my mom. I thought maybe he’d throw her some child support. Make sure she had everything she needed, that kind of thing. But I guess he thought that was dishonorable. He wanted to do the right thing by his pup.
So here we are. Moved into his house. He’s already converted the spare room into a nursery, which is why I’m in Wilde’s bedroom.
I tried to convince my mom to let me stay alone in our place, but of course, she wouldn’t go for it. It was a long shot, for sure.
Outside, I hear the loud rumble of Cole Muchmore’s restored 1950’s Ford Truck outside.
For one brief second, I get excited, thinking maybe Cole and Bailey have come up from Tempe for a visit. And then I realize there’s only one reason Cole would be pulling up to Wilde’s house at midnight. It’s not for a visit.
It’s to drop off Wilde.
Fuck. Me.
I sit up in bed and peek out the window. I’m in nothing but a tank top and panties because I am getting so hot at night. The moment I confirm my worst suspicion, the heat in my body turns to chills.
Wilde jumps down from the truck, murmuring “thanks, bruh,” and clomps to the front door.
He turns the knob, and it catches on the lock my mom insists on setting. I doubt any other shifter in Wolf Ridge ever uses a lock, especially not when they’re in the house. If any human intruder came in, the shifter could easily overpower them, and if it was a shifter breaking in–well, then, a lock wouldn’t keep them out. They could just break down the door.
But my mom has always worried for my safety. Like I’m some delicate flower without the ability to fight who might get snatched from my bed in the middle of the night. So even now, living with Logan, she locks the door, much to his annoyance.
Wilde grunts and throws his shoulder into it.
Not wanting the door to break and my mom to get blamed, I fly out of bed and dash for the door, unlocking it in time to throw it open before he slams his body against it again.
Wilde stumbles through the opening, knocking me backward. His hand shoots out to grab my forearm to keep me from landing on my ass, and he stares at me with a mixture of shock and disgust.
He doesn’t release my arm from his bruising grip. Of course, he can see in the dark far better than I can. I flush, realizing what he sees.
Short little me, standing in nothing but the black lace panties I was wearing for the video and a tiny tank top.
His nostrils flare as he takes in my scent, and for a moment, I see the green flash of his wolf eyes. His upper lip lifts in a snarl.
I attempt to take a step back, but he doesn’t let go. Not that distance would help me if he decided to lunge. He’s practically twice my size and ten times as fast and strong as I am.
“Rayne.” He says it like a curse. Like I’m the bane of his existence. His large fingers make my forearm look like a twig between them, but they send sparks of awareness racing across my skin.
The cold flash turns to heat once more. A feverish burn that starts in my core and pools there, flowing down the insides of my legs. Am I…turned on by him? Or is it just the awareness that I’m standing here in a pair of panties?
“Wilde.”
He’s still as jock-gorgeous as ever. If you think jocks are gorgeous, which I don’t. But Wilde is a perfect specimen of male physique. Tan. Bulging muscles. Square jaw with a cleft chin. Dark, curling lashes that frame a pair of hazel eyes.