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The Alpha's Temporary Mate (Fated Match)(62)

By:Victoria Davies


He bit back a grin. “Privacy, sweetheart. Everyone around us has supernatural hearing, remember?”

Her cheeks glowed red as they pulled to a stop before the last cabin on the road. He couldn’t help chuckling as Chloe practically threw herself from the car.

Following suit, he stepped out on to pack land and drew in a deep breath. Part of him loved the city and the elegance and vibrancy it offered, but another side craved open spaces just like this. He couldn’t wait to let his wolf run free without having to worry about observers.

“It’s beautiful here,” she commented as she pulled her duffle from the trunk.

“Just wait till you see more of the land.” He grabbed his own bags and followed her up the cabin steps.

“Is there anything else I need to be on guard for?” she asked as he fished for his keys. “What if I forget something?”

He smiled at her nerves. She’d demanded a list of all the major players in his pack and spent hours each day memorizing each and every one. If Chloe was one thing, it was thorough when she set her mind to a task.

“You’ll be fine,” he assured her. Though she might be a jumble of nerves, he was remarkably calm. Logically, he should be worried about any slips, but he couldn’t help think his pack would love this witch once they came to know her.

Unlocking the door, he pushed it open. “Welcome to Camp Clearwater.”

Inside the cabin was a charming, if rustic, living space. Looking around the familiar room he knew the fey Chloe had tried to set him up with would have had kittens if forced to stay here. The woman at his side merely examined the place with a smile.

There was a small sitting area to the side of the door. It boasted a wood-burning fireplace able to make the cabin warm and cozy on even the coldest days. Though there were no electronics such as computers or TVs in the building, there was a kitchenette in the corner, with a stove and fridge. Chloe walked across the colorful throw rug to reach one of two doors in the far wall, one opening to the washroom and the other to the only bedroom.

She turned back to him and crossed her arms. “So I take it you’re sleeping on that tiny chaise in the sitting room?”

“No, sweetheart,” he said, crossing the room to her. “I’m sleeping next to you.” He entered the bedroom and tossed his bag on the far side of the bed. “Unless, of course, you want to sleep on the chaise.”

He sat on the bed as he watched her glance around for an alternative sleeping option. As he’d planned, she found none.

“I could have brought a sleeping bag had you warned me,” she said at last.

His grin was unrepentant. “Exactly.”

Rolling her eyes, she dragged her duffle to her side of the bed. “You better not be a cover hog.”

“You can always kick me if I steal them. Or better yet, cuddle up closer.”

“Shameless,” she murmured, perching next to him on the bed.

There wasn’t much space in the room beyond the mattress and two chests of drawers. A wide window was cut into the far wall, with light curtains hanging on either side.

“This is rather cozy,” she said.

“Very.” Unable to keep from touching her, he let his hand drift to her nape, toying with the lose tendrils of hair falling free of her bun.

A soft smile curved her lips as she allowed the caress, but it was quickly chased away by her worries. “What if I screw up?” she whispered to him.

A curious tenderness gripped him. “Has it not occurred to you, Chloe, that the lie we are telling gets smaller with each passing day?”

She shook her head. “You don’t love me,” she denied. “And we haven’t been dating as long as we’ve claimed.”

He shrugged. “I agree it would be far better they never discover the truth, but wolves don’t place the same emphasis on time as you do. I’ve seen couples declare themselves under a mating moon having known each other for far fewer days than we have. When our wolves know, they know. We’re trained from childhood to listen to their voices.”

“What’s it like?” she asked. “Is it a voice in your head?”

He’d never tried to describe the animal that was his constant companion in life. How did one explain a presence that was as natural to him as breathing was to her? “More like…feelings, sounds,” he tried. “My wolf doesn’t speak as you or I would, but I understand him all the same.”

“Another way in which you’re never alone.”

He fell back on the bed, his arms cast out on either side of him. “Trust me, after a few days with my pack you’ll be wishing for solitude.”

“Spoken like someone who has never been abandoned,” she quipped.