chapter 26

I spend the next two days avoiding Dayne, and anywhere where she might be. Savannah, that is.

The girl whose clothes I've been wearing since I passed close enough to her when I ran out of the den to pick up her scent. And they're all over the clothes in the chest of drawers in Dayne's room.

I'm desperate not to wear them, but I have to wear something.

I get up at five-thirty even though it kills me to do it, rush through a shower, dress, make breakfast, and after shoving eggs and bacon between two slices of toast, disappear out into the forest where I spend most of the morning and afternoon.

Since I don't catch sight of Regan at breakfast, I guess whatever emergency she had a call about means she's too busy in town to help me with the cooking. I can't help but feel relieved I don't have to deal with any sympathy she would no doubt be aiming my way.

I make sure to only return to the house again to sneak a turkey sandwich before I'm back out again.

Fortunately, the weather is pretty mild, and I don't have to worry about rain chasing me inside, which is the last place I want to be right now.

Although we sit beside each other at dinner, I eat and don't talk to anyone, just concentrate on clearing my plate and going up to bed.

Surprisingly, Dayne doesn't force me to stay. Nor does he come to bed until I've fallen asleep. And in the morning, either he's gone already, or I'm sneaking around in the dark so I don't wake him.

Of course, it can't go on forever my dodging Dayne and the rest of the pack, but for two whole days I keep to myself and Dayne lets me. I imagine he's too busy with the return of the blonde and whatever important thing she had to tell him to bother with me.

Finally, Dayne pins me down, and just my luck, it's as I'm stepping out of the shower and reaching for a towel that he shoves the bathroom door open and steps in.

He's as naked as I am.

I freeze, half-in-half-out of the shower, dripping water on the floor, hand still outstretched to the pink fluffy towel I've left on the edge of the bathtub. For the longest time, Dayne stares at my naked body with a carefully blank expression on his face. After tearing my gaze away from his nakedness, which takes me much longer than it should, I stare at his chin because I don't know where else to look, and it seems the safest place to focus my attention.

Heat blooms and spreads all over my body until I'm sure I must be glowing bright red as I reach for the towel. But even though I'm closer to it than he is, he finds a way to get in the way of the towel and me.

Then he's coming closer, backing me up into the shower while I silently retreat.

When he has me back in the enclosure and I'm pressed against the mosaic stone wall, he pulls the glass door closed, reaches for the dial, and turns the water back on.

"Grab the bath wash," he grunts.

I blink up at him in surprise as he dips his head under the spray, wetting his hair, and closing his eyes.

Figuring this will be the quickest way to make my escape, I snag the bottle from the corner shelf of the shower and hold it out to him as I skirt around him.

Only he doesn't take it. And even though his eyes are closed, it's like he senses what I'm doing and blocks me by taking a deliberate step back.

Turning his back on me, he rests one hand on the wall above his head and bends his head.

"You can start with my back." The bottle slips out of my hand.

I fumble to catch it before it crashes to the floor. Only once I've got a much tighter grip on it than strictly than necessary, do I let myself gulp.

"I can start with…" I murmur, not entirely sure I heard him correctly.

"My back. Then my shoulders. I'll tell you where else I want you to clean after."

My eyes take in the wide expanse of his tanned back, the taut rippling muscles, his narrow waist, the dip just before his lower back meets the curve of his ass. And then I wrench my eyes back up again before it can go any further than that.

He wants me to clean him?

"But I…" I stop to clear my throat.

Dayne peers over his shoulder just enough for me to catch the briefest flash of ice-blue. "Or did you want to start with my front?"

His front? And would he expect me to wash his…

Violently I shake my head, my wet hair slapping me in the face. "No, uh, no."

This is nothing, I try to convince myself.

Just pretend you're wiping down the fridge, or the kitchen counter. And be quick about it. Efficient. It'll be over before you know it.

Of course, it's nothing like wiping down a cold marble kitchen counter.

I only realize this seconds after I've squeezed a generous amount of the unscented body wash in my palms, replaced the bottle on the shelf, rubbed my hands together, and my fingers make first contact with Dayne's back.

He's hot to the touch.

Like cozy socks in front of a fire, toasty warm and the heat of him, the feel of hard muscles beneath the surface of his skin has me moving closer before I'm even aware of what I'm doing.

We shifters crave warmth. Maybe it's the wolf side of us making its presence known while we're in our human shape? I don't know.

Wolves in the wild will often sleep in a pile. Not just in winter for warmth, but it's more than that. It's something I've gone without over the years. Comfort. Touch.

I remember napping with the pack when my parents were still alive, and I never realized how much I missed the feeling until right this moment.

It's nearly overwhelming, this desire to socialize with another shifter to connect, and I can't help but think that's what is triggering this need to press myself closer to Dayne and to rub myself against him.

I'm a second away from nuzzling my face against him when, thankfully, I come to my senses and jerk away. But Dayne reaches around and lazily snags my wrist before hauling me right back.

"If you keep drawing this out," he says gruffly, "you'll be late making the breakfast, and I'll have to punish you."

Punish me?

I can't help but blanch when I hear his words, and even though he's just warned me what will happen if I don't do what he says, I struggle to free myself from his tight grip and start backing away.

I'm shaking, and it isn't long before the scent of my fear floods the shower as my mind insists on showing me all the ways he could punish me. Dayne's head snaps around, and then he's there, right there, pressing me against the wall, his body flush against mine as I shake, my eyes squeezed tightly closed and my face turned away from him, trying to make myself the smallest target possible.

Everything in me is tense, expectant, as I wait for the hammer to fall.

This is what I knew would happen all along. It was only a matter of time before Dayne showed me his true colors. Now I brace myself for the first slap, or punch, or kick.

He's younger and stronger than Uncle. A lot stronger. An alpha at peak physical fitness. Whatever he's going to do to me is going to hurt.

He bends his face closer to mine.

Even though my eyes are closed, I feel the intensity of his gaze on my face like a physical touch.

He moves closer, and I lean further back, my palms sliding on the wet stone as if in search of a way out, even though it's pointless. Not when there's a stone behind me and the solid wall of muscle that is Dayne in front.

In here, there's no escape.

His beard brushes along the side of my face and I suck in a breath, my heart lurching in terror.

He's going to bite me again, I guess, remembering how much it hurt the first time, bracing myself for it. He'll want to enforce his position as alpha.

I'm so sure this is going to happen, that I'm already tilting my head up and to the side, in preparation for his bite. But when he moves away from my exposed throat, I start to open my eyes.

I'm offering my throat. Why isn't he

Soft, warm lips touch mine and move away. I tear my eyes open in shock.

Did Dayne just…? Did he just kiss me?