Chapter 4: Face to Face

Chapter 4: Face to Face

Freya's Pov

I stood at the top of the stairs, my hands on the railing, trying so hard to muster the courage to stand.

Downstairs in the kitchen, sounds came up, pack members sitting down for dinner, sound of laughter echoing through the house, the cozy noise of family. It had the smell of home: Catherine's lasagna, fresh bread, and the familiar scent of wolves that I'd grown up with.

It was all familiar.

All but the fact that my heart was attempting to beat itself free of my body.

"You're beautiful," Evie told me, her fingers tightening around my hand. "Stop procrastinating. It's just dinner."

Just dinner. Yeah.

I smoothed my blue dress again and pushed myself forward. Every step down felt monumental, as if I were going somewhere I had no choice but to follow through on.

The dining room was full. Marcus sat at one end of the massive oak table, Catherine dashing between the kitchen and dining room. Henry, Dane's Beta, was there with his mate. A handful of pack members I recognized filled the chairs, all laughing and talking.

But my eyes located him immediately.

Dane leaned against the window, whiskey glass in his hand, his back to the room. Dark jeans and black henley stretched across his shoulders wider than I remembered. Dark hair longer, falling against his collar. He radiated power, control, danger.

He was not the Dane I'd left behind.

And everything I hadn't known I desired.

The thought struck me so suddenly I almost fell on the last step.

"Freya's here!" Catherine cried with glee, and all eyes were on me at the same time.

Including his.

Dane moved slowly, like he'd been waiting for this moment. When his eyes met mine, the air was knocked out of my lungs.

Gold. His gaze was pure gold, not his usual hazel. And the way he looked at me as if he was starving and I was food, as if he wanted to close the distance between us and never let go, as if I were the most dangerous thing he had ever seen.

The room fell silent. I felt them all watching us, felt the weight of their scrutiny bearing down on me, but I couldn't look away from him.

Neither could he.

"Freya." My name was harsher than it should have been. He cleared his throat. "Welcome home."

"Thank you." My tone was softer than I intended. "Good to see you, Dane."

Liar. It was not better. It was too much, frightening, and electrifying. It was too much and everything all at once.

He moved closer to me, each step deliberate and slow. When he was in front of me, he hesitated, only for a second before holding me against his chest.

The moment his arms enclosed me, my entire world changed.

He was warm, solid, safe all the things I'd recalled. And more still. The scent of him, pine and smoke and something fiercely Dane whiplashed my head. I could feel the drumming beat of his heart against my face, could feel the coiled tension in every muscle, could feel him shuddering minutely as if he was holding back from doing something.

"I missed you," he breathed in my hair, so low I hardly heard it.

"I missed you too."

He released me with a sharp jerk, stepping back as if I had burned him. His jaw was clenched in a hard line, and his golden eyes would no longer meet mine.

"Come, come, sit everyone!" Catherine rudely broke the strange tension. "Food's going cold."

I found myself squashed between Evie and Henry, looking right at Dane. Just perfect.

Dinner was preceded by the usual dish passing chaos, multiple conversations at once, laughing and joking. I tried to devote my attention to my dinner, to Evie's running commentary on pack gossip, to anything but the man across from me who kept looking up as if he couldn't help it.

Each time my eyes locked with his, that attraction grew stronger. That strange desire to touch him, to be nearer, to know what was going on inside me.

"So Freya," Henry said, snapping me out of my reverie. "Five years in the city. Any culture shock coming back to pack life?"

"Honestly? Reverse culture shock, more like. The city felt wrong after a while. Too many people, too few trees. No howling at night." I smiled. "I didn't realize how much I'd miss it until I'd left."

"Did you go out with anyone?" The question was from Dane, sudden and sharp.

The table fell silent again. Marcus arched an eyebrow. Catherine eyed us up and down with restrained curiosity.

"I. dated. Nothing serious." I didn't know why I was bristling. "Why?"

His knuckles were white around his fork. "Just curious. You were gone for a long time. Figured you'd met someone."

"And if I had?"

"Then he's a lucky man." The words were appropriate, but his tone was something else again. Something possessive and threatening that sent heat low in my stomach.

"No one," I whispered, looking up at him. "I'm alone."

Something flashed in those gold eyes satisfaction, relief, hunger. All were gone in an instant, replaced by cautious neutrality.

"Good," he said curtly.

"Good?" I mocked, suddenly bold. "What's that good about, Dane?"

He leaned towards me, and I could have sworn the temperature in the room rose ten degrees. "Because you've just arrived home. You don't need complications."

"Maybe I like complications."

"Freya."

"Another lasagna, anyone?" Catherine interrupted curtly, nudging the dish toward us. "Marcus, honey, explain the new training center to Freya."

The moment was broken. Dane shifted back in his seat, jaw set, while Marcus launched into a verbal drone about pack enhancements. But I could still feel the burden of his gaze on me, burning across the table.

What was happening? Why did every interaction with him feel charged, explosive, unavoidable?

And why should a section of me have wanted to move in instead of running?

Dinner continued, but I could barely eat my meal. I couldn't look away from the man across from me, and the way that every bit of me was screaming that I was exactly where I belonged.

Even though I had no idea what it was.