scent wound around me, and my wolf stirred, excitement filling us both.
“Glad you’re here,” she whispered.
I set her down, and anger surged through me when I noticed the swollen
red welt on her cheekbone and the scrapes on her skin.
“Are you hurt?” I gently cupped her cheek. My voice was ragged,
strained by the emotions flooding through me—relief, contentment, desire,
anger. And most of all, guilt.
Fuck, it was too much.
“Just a little bruised and tired.”
Exhaustion pulled her shoulders down, and I could tell she was lying
about the severity of her wounds.
My chest churned with guilt and shame. I should have been more careful,
should have protected her.
I shook my head. “I’m sorry—sorry you had to face Kahanov alone, sorry
I let my guard down, sorry for what happened in the fore—"
Her cheeks flushed and she lowered her eyes, cutting my words short.
“So that did happen.”
My pulse raced.
Gods, the woman was getting under my skin. What had happened
between us couldn’t happen again. I knew I was playing with fire, and I
needed to shut this down before it got any more complicated.
We’d deal with Kahanov, then we’d cure Savannah. Once she was no
longer a wolf and the mate bond was broken, we’d be free of these irrational
emotions.
Lies.
“The Dreamlands is just that—a dream that’s best forgotten. Kahanov
almost got you, and every second we linger, he might slip away. Come on.” I
nodded toward the SUV and walked away. She trailed behind, and I could
smell her offense and anger.
Good. It was better if she hated me. It’d be easier for both of us.