Lost Wolf by Mila Young
I shouldn't be out here but then neither should Nikos, and I refuse to be blamed for something else I had no control over again.
Raising the torch in front of me, I travel farther through the quiet and eerie woods. There are no smells out here, and any calm I carried earlier is now completely dissolved, taken over by the insistence that I should turn back.
Just as I decide to do just that, I spy a figure standing against a tree several feet away. That earlier sense of danger now skyrockets through me at how something feels wrong here. My heart thumps loudly.
I squint through the dark, easily making it out to be Nikos by his hairstyle with the top longer than the sides. What is he doing just standing out here?
“Nikos,” I whisper loud enough for him to hear me, and he lifts his head to face me, the light catching his bright green eyes. My attention dips down his body, but he's not rushing to zip himself up, so he wasn't peeing.
“Can't sleep either?” he asks me, striding in my direction.
“Actually, I think you woke me up when you stepped on twigs.”
He grins like somehow that had been his intention all along, which I struggle to believe as that would mean the other three slept like bears. When I turn my head in their direction, spying them beyond the trees, none of them have stirred.
Suddenly, Nikos stands in front of me, so close and unexpectedly, that I flinch and the flaming branch slips from my grasp.
He tsks and hastily steps on the flames, putting it out, throwing us into darkness.
I'm backing up until I hit a tree. He follows and pins me to the trunk with his sheer presence alone, his eyes glinting in the flames back in the campfire behind me. He hasn't touched me, but we're standing a breath's distance apart, and I instinctually press my hand to his chest. He grabs me by the wrist, but doesn't push me away.
Warmth ruses up my arm from where we're touching, and he's staring down at me like he sees right through me. Yet the way he keeps studying me, the way his thumb runs in small circles across my wrist fills me with an unexpected desire. But that's wrong when he's been nothing but danger to me.
This is very wrong.
“What were you doing out here?” I ask, trying to shake off the fire spewing from his hand and engulfing me.
“I knew you'd follow me.”
I study his face, trying to find the truth but with so many shadows, there's nothing but the beating of his heart against my touch.
“T-that's not true.” I'm breathless, downplaying how being this close to me has even my wolf stirring, but I shouldn't be enjoying this.
He laughs softly, his other hand going to the side of my face, cupping my cheek, his thumb dragging across my lower lip.
Something feels off with me as I just stand there, barely knowing this Alpha, clenching my thighs together from the way he plays with me. I shouldn't let him touch me, not after his earlier rudeness directed at me.
“If you didn't want to follow me, you would have stayed in camp,” he tells me, and just like Crius, he's full of ego. But when he leans in and his breath is on my cheek, I lose all ability to think logically. The warmth of his proximity is a toxicity that swallows me. He whispers in my ear, “I have a proposition for you.