Of course, he’d become attached to her. She was caring for his son—a young, beautiful intelligent woman he also happened to have a raging hunger for. But attachment was a no-no. Hell, he’d made the goddamn rules.
He changed into his running clothes and set off, following the path the city had recently put in. The cool evening, buzzing sounds of the city, and the brilliant light displays offered his senses a good distraction. He ran until he was dripping sweat and breathing hard. And then he pushed on until his lungs were aching and his legs were on fire. It felt good to push his body—even if the wolf begged to take over. He could shift at will. Next week, the moon was full and the wolf ruled. But tonight, Finn kept control.
Control. He snorted.
Beyond the whole is-he-a-werewolf thing, Finn had far more mundane concerns. He didn’t know a damn thing about fatherhood or what it meant to be a good, involved father. The thought of having to care for something so helpless terrified him. What if his son didn’t like him? Jessa said the baby was too little to know the difference but Finn wasn’t so sure.
Which brought him back to Jessa. Could he trust Oscar’s care to someone other than Jessa? Did he want to…
By the time he rode the elevator to the penthouse, he was wiped out. He stalked down the dark hallway, pulling off his soaked shirt as he went. He needed a steaming hot shower and a scotch. After that, he’d think about eating.
He paused at Jessa’s door. It was cracked, but the room was dark. He pushed in, slowly, glancing at her bed. Empty. Oscar lay on his back in his crib. He crept forward, staring at the small bundle. Oscar was breathing rapidly. Too rapidly. He frowned, reaching out his hand in the dark, his palm against Oscar’s chest.
His son. It was only Oscar’s small, warm, body, the rapid thrum of the baby’s heartbeat under his palm. And yet, Finn grew disoriented, short of breath, his skin scorched—as if his flesh had been branded. He stiffened, his hand, his palm, burning. Finn pulled back, clenching his hand and shaking his head. A million indistinguishable whispers filled his mind, a thousand unrestrained emotions clutched in on his heart. He couldn’t think, couldn’t sift through the noise or sensations. He stumbled out into the hall on unsteady legs.
“Finn?” It was Jessa. “Are you all right?”
His hand fisted at his side, burning, throbbing. “I… I’m good.” He leaned against the wall, dragging in deep lung-fuls of air and focusing on Jessa’s face. Her concern.
“Can I get you anything?” she asked.
Could she make the noise end? Make the heat singeing his hand stop radiating up the length of his arm and into his chest? He didn’t know what was happening to him. Whatever it was, she couldn’t help him. Why did she have to look like she cared—about him? And why the hell did being so close to her draw such a fierce reaction. “Where were you?” he snapped.
She frowned. “I was eating—”
“You left the monitor in my office.” He stared at her, directing all his pent-up frustrations at her. “How would you have heard him if he needed you?” Maybe, if he was hard enough on her, she’d stay away from him. Maybe, if he pushed her away, he could stay away. “Something could have happened—”
She held up the monitor, her hand shaking. “I realized where it was after you went on your run. I wouldn’t have left him otherwise.” She hesitated then reached for him, her hand settling on his arm. “Are you sure you’re okay? You might be overheated. Let me get you some water.”
Her touch was a balm against his scorched skin. He glanced at her hand, terrified by the effect she had on him. He ran a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, Jessa.”
“It’s okay. I–I can’t imagine what you’re feeling. But…” She hesitated, drawing his attention back to her. “I’m here, if you need me for anything.”
He hadn’t realized he was reaching for her. Hadn’t realized how soft the skin of her shoulders would feel beneath his fingers. But he shuddered at the contact. His hunger was hard and fast, gripping him so tightly that breathing was difficult. It would be so easy to pull her close, to take what he wanted. And right now, there was nothing he wanted more.
“Drink some water, Finn,” her voice wavered as she stepped back, severing the connection. “I–I put your plate in the microwave.”
He stared at her closed door. The wolf told him to follow her, to touch her again, claim her. So, he turned and headed toward the kitchen. No more thinking or analyzing tonight. No more revelations. He ate his meal and downed a gallon of water.
…
Jessa navigated the stroller through the bustling farmer’s market along the river, Greg the bodyguard trailing behind. She loved walking through the newly restored brewery and warehouse area. It was a bright autumn day, the air was crisp, the sky blue, and she’d been in desperate need of some fresh air. She’d hidden in her room until Finn had left, then packed them up for a long walk. She’d barely slept, caught up in whatever Finn had stirred to life the night before. He seemed to have some sort of power over her. His simple touch sparking a desire that had yet to fade. It scared her, to feel so strongly for a man that held her future in his hands.
A man she needed to remember was off-limits.
She shoved her brooding aside, and wandered through the marketplace. She and Oscar had made the trek twice already, enjoying the mix of people and quiet. She turned into the newly created park, admiring the small statues and public art that had been incorporated along the pathway. Wind chimes, gnomes, faces on trees—she pushed the stroller around a sidewalk artist working in chalk to recreate a Monet painting.
Oscar slept, so she wandered on. The autumn sun filtered through the mix of trees and shrubs to cast long shadows over the winding path. She shivered, moving into the sunlight and picking up the pace. Maybe it was the filtered light or the sudden silence, but she didn’t like being so isolated, even if it was in her head. No sound, no birdsong, no voices. She kept going, startling at the sudden snap of a twig. She glanced back over her shoulder, but saw no one. It was Greg, that’s all. He’d be coming down the path any second. But that didn’t stop her from sprinting until she came out on a wider path. She caught her breath, slowing her pace as she smiled at a dog-walker, nodded at an ancient couple shuffling along arm-in-arm, and dodged a group of runners. Oscar fussed, it was time for his bottle.
She wasn’t the freak-out type, but something felt off—
“How old is he?” the deep voice startled her. So did the pale blue eyes of the massive man suddenly walking at her side.
Soft alarm bells made the hair on her arms and neck prick up. Where the hell had he come from? It’s not like he didn’t stand out. He did. So how had she missed him? And she couldn’t shake the sense she’d seen him before. She had. Maybe he lived nearby? And this was his jogging route. No need to get paranoid. Besides, Greg would be there any second. “A few weeks,” she managed.
“A few weeks? Wow, you look great,” the man said, glancing at her hands.
“Ringless. Doing the single mom thing?”