She waited. Waited for him to say something. To make this easier to accept. To explain himself. To soothe her fears—fears that she only just realized she had. But he did none of that. Instead, he stalked to his bedroom and slammed that door too.
Wonderful.
Kerrigan opened the fridge and found there was no wine. Only beer. What better time than now, to start drinking. She grabbed a bottle, and just to make sure she fit in, she slammed the refrigerator door when she was finished.
She sank down on the leather couch and reached for the wool blanket that lay over the back. Trager could have at least started a fire. The jerk.
Tucking the blanket around her legs, she stared at the bottle in her hands. How was she supposed to open it? She twisted the cap, and realized quickly what a mistake that was. Ouch. She used the blanket as a buffer and twisted again. Nope. Glaring at it didn’t help either. Clearly, she needed a bottle opener, but she wasn’t getting back up to find one. Frustrated, she tossed the beer to the other end of the couch, where it landed upside down.
Leaning her head back on the cushion, she stared out the black window. She had no idea what time it was, no clock to check, and her phone was in Trager’s bedroom. It was dark-ass thirty, that’s what time it was.
That wolf, the reddish one that had growled at her from the door… was a man.
The man, the one in the bedroom that had made her tremble with pleasure, that had knotted her stomach with his grin, that had held her carefully and made her feel worth something… was a wolf.
Wolves were men, and men were wolves, and the world was a crazy, crazy place. She’d say she was in a very intense, orgasm-induced dream, but she’d pinched herself too many times for that to be true.
She should be afraid. Terrified. Perhaps running for her life. But instead, she felt almost numb. Was this what it was like to be in shock?
Seeing Trager split open on the ground had crushed her. Losing someone she cared about again wasn’t something she could handle.
A tear rolled down her cheek but she ignored it.
She cared about him? Yes. She did. Yes. It had happened quickly, but it had happened nonetheless. His death would’ve sent her off a ledge of bitterness.
He didn’t die like she’d thought he would though. She’d watched his body do something miraculous. Something unbelievable. And now, he was whole and healthy.
There was so much she didn’t know about him still. So much he didn’t know about her. And now, she had to go into a camp full of these were creatures, and pretend to be his mate—whatever the hell that meant. She had a feeling it didn’t just mean they’d done the dirty. All so the alpha would take the threat to the pack seriously.
Why couldn’t he just listen to Trager? Why did she have to come along? Why was Trager not living in the camp with the rest of the wolves for that matter? Why was he miles from civilization, in a home he couldn’t even drive to?
So many unanswered questions.
While he locked himself away in his room.
Kerrigan sighed. Pulled her feet up onto the couch. Looked like this would be her bed for the night.
Chapter Twelve
Trager slammed the bedroom door, and stood in the center of the room, willing the fury to leave his body. He was wound tight, and hurting. Not physically. He could handle the physical wounds.
Farrow.
Trager would never forgive him. The things he’d said about Kerrigan… the way he’d implied she couldn’t care about Trager… all of it.
It hurt like hell to know the wolf he’d called friend all these years thought so poorly of him. He’d been the one to encourage Trager to find his mate, to change her mind, to change the prophecy. How could he turn on Trager so quickly?
And to insult him in front of her like that?
Trager’s cheeks burned with humiliation. He could only imagine what she must think of him. And now, she was going to camp, where people despised him. There would be more of what Farrow had spewed.
Trager breathed a ragged sigh, and rested his forehead against the cool wood of the door.
By the time this was all said and done, Kerrigan would think so poorly of him, there was no possible way she’d ever mate him. She’d move to Alaska, and he’d never see her again.
His wolf roared at the idea, making Trager’s head feel like a battered ship on a perilous ocean.
Pushing away from the door, he paced the small room to let off steam. He tried to focus on the good things. The night between Kerrigan’s legs, the yeses, the farmer’s market.
It didn’t satisfy him—or the wolf—but did help settle him some.
What happened tomorrow couldn’t be stopped. In fact, this was what he’d set out to do from the beginning. Save his sister. Save Farrow. Save the innocent wolves of the Ozarka pack. He just didn’t expect to be so torn about it. He’d likely lose Kerrigan over this—maybe that was what the prophecy had been about in the first place. He just hoped saving the lives of his former family was worth it.