“We are what we are because Finn had an accident.” Her nearness, and that damn strap, were taking a toll on his patience.
“An accident?” Ellen shook her head. “You don’t believe that. Finn was meant to find that bone, meant to start this new bloodline.”
“Meant to? Then there must have been a purpose. Any ideas on that? Something important, considering what we’ve all be through. It has to be more than just challenging Cyrus?” The idea of being fated werewolves was too abstract for consideration. The facts were simple. Finn was impaled by an old bone. Whatever DNA entered his bloodstream had changed him. Infected and genetically altered him. In a fevered state, he’d attacked Mal, Dante, Anders, and Hollis—infecting them all. Their reluctant pack was born.
“Your science was born from magic and mysticism. They are often the same thing.” She dismissed him with the wave of her hand. “Fate or an accident. What is done cannot be undone.”
He glanced at her, noting the slight dip between her brows as she pushed aside the folklore book he’d all but memorized and riffled through his papers. “Are you looking for something in particular?” he asked, frustrated by the mess she was making.
“No, not really.” She paused, glancing at him with that small, teasing smile on her lips. “But I know you don’t like it when I touch your things.”
He sat back, stunned by her confession. And amused.
“You can keep studying and making your notes.” She tapped his papers, but her gaze met his. “I need to do something. I’m restless. My wolf is restless.”
Which instantly reminded him of the shower. She’d been restless then, too.
“And since I know that you’ll say no to my first suggestion, you’ll have to come with me for a run?”
No again? Fuck it. He knew exactly what her first suggestion would be. So did his dick. And that strap, the exposed skin, and hard nipples straining against her shirt wasn’t helping. “Fine,” he said, standing and backing away from her. Space helped—a little. A run was a good idea. But she wasn’t allowed to run on her own, so this was her asking for permission, to let her wolf out. He pushed off his stool. “I can’t keep up.”
“I know,” she said. “But you always try.”
…
The night air was cold and bracing, whispering across her skin and teasing the wolf within. Her lungs emptied, preparing for what was to come—craving it.
“You want to talk about your dream?” Hollis asked, following her into the woods.
“No.” She glanced at him. “Why would I want to talk about it?”
“When Olivia was having nightmares about Cyrus and the Others, you told her the dreams were important.”
She stopped walking then, scowling at him. He wasn’t just watching her—he was also listening to her? “That conversation had nothing to do with you.”
He sighed, irritated. “If it was a private conversation, perhaps you should have had it in a private place?”
Irritation faded to amusement. Hollis and his infallible logic. “Perhaps.”
“You’ve made friends with Olivia. And Jessa.”
She had—and regretted it. Her time with them was coming to an end. She had a part to play to ensure the species was safe. And they would survive. This was right. New life. True loyalty. Respect and love. Finn and his pack would restore honor and nobility to the wolves. The joy of baby Diana’s birth almost choked out the flame of her vengeance.
Almost.
It pleased her to know peace was possible. After she killed Cyrus, Finn’s pack would go on to live many long and happy years beneath the full moon. Even if she wasn’t around to see it.
Her wolf pushed, eager to be free, impatient to put space between her and the cabin. For now, her plans, thoughts, and worries could wait. Her wolf wanted only to run.
“Your dreams. Are they from the past? Or of what might—”
She stopped again, spinning to face him. “My dreams are my business, Hollis. I will make an effort not to trouble you with them again.” The pity in his eyes sliced through her. She neither needed nor wanted his sympathy.
Anger, irritation, and amusement were common between them. When working, they took care to consider the other’s viewpoint and opinion. His mind was sharp while his methods were maddening. These were things she’d come to expect, even value, where Hollis was concerned.
But not pity. Or this new, and alarming, spark between them. He’d been right. She’d crossed a line in the shower. Her wolf had approved. Far too much. Which was dangerous.
The sooner she left the better.