Page 33 of Pistols & Peonies

My question dies in my throat when he reaches down to shove his pants off in one smooth motion, kicking them aside without a glance back. Heat floods my face as my brain short-circuits, caught somewhere between don’t look and too late.

Before I can recover, the air around him shimmers as the shift rolls through his body. Bones snap and rearrange, dark fur sprouts, his mass expands. In the next blink, a massive black wolf occupies the space where Kane was standing. His powerful shoulders bunch and flex as he turns to look at me, gold eyes locking onto mine, stealing my breath.

Without hesitation, he hops back up onto the bed and curls into the space beside me, a warm, solid presence pressing into my side. His size is impossible to ignore, but there’s nothing threatening in the way he settles. Just quiet strength; a calming force.

I jerk my gaze away to stare up at the ceiling, heart still hammering, trying to make sense of it.

Either he’s doing me a favor, since I made it abundantly clear I didn’t want to sleep next to him, or he hates me so much he can’t stand to be near me in his human form. That thought should sting more than it does, but the truth is… I don’t really care which it is. Because lying beside a half-naked Kane was a colossal mistake waiting to happen, but this? This I can handle.

I exhale a slow breath and sink deeper into the mattress. The tension in my shoulders eases, my wolf finally quieting, curling inward instead of clawing at my ribs. Kane’s fur is warm against my side, but I tell myself I won’t touch him. That I don’t need to.

My fingers twitch anyway.

As if he senses the impulse, he moves closer, adjusting his position until his muzzle rests heavily atop my thigh. The weight is grounding, my resolve crumbling on a dime. Reaching down, I thread my fingers into the thick fur at the scruff of his neck, stroking reverently.

A low, rumbling breath leaves him that sounds a whole lot like a sigh of relief.

I exhale heavily, my own sigh matching his. And as much as I hate it, for the first time since the Pairing– maybe the first time I can remember at all– I feel truly content.

My eyes drift shut.

Sleep takes me easily, gently, like it’s been waiting for this moment all along.

CHAPTER 12

Kane

The weights feel lighter than they have in months.

I’m in the Tower gym before dawn, running through my usual lifts with a vigor that startles even me. The ache in my joints is gone. My energy’s clean and sharp, without a trace of that rotten, crawling restlessness that’s been poisoning my body since the Pairing. I’m… cured.

I check my form in the mirror out of habit and it’s perfect, as always. Not a flex, just a fact. I run a tight ship, and that includes my physical form. Thank fuck I’m back on track.

The last few reps burn in the best possible way, sweat dripping down my spine as I count them off in my head. When I finish the set, I return the dumbbells to the rack, roll my neck on my shoulders, and stretch until I feel a satisfying pop. Sunlight leaks in through the high windows, glinting off the fitness equipment. At this hour, the gym is always empty, and I can almost pretend the whole city is, too.

I close my eyes and just savor it for a moment.

This is the first time I’ve felt normal since Alpha entered me into his little social experiment. I didn’t expect a single night of sleep to erase a week of exhaustion, yet here I am, running on all cylinders like I’m fucking twenty-five again. And it’s not the vitamins or the steroids Dr. Aspen pumped into my veins. It’s not the gym, or the structure, or even the time alone.

It's her.

I know it; feel it in my bones down to the marrow. My bloodwork came back clean. The meds had all day to take effect, but nothing changed until she wandered into my room last night.

The last thing I expected was for Violet to show up half-naked in my doorway with all that smooth, tan skin on show, looking like a goddamn dream. I definitely didn’t expect to invite her in, either. For once, I acted purely on instinct rather than rationalizing every action, and by some miracle, it worked. We both slept.

Only because I shifted to my wolf. It was a cop-out, but I was far too tempted to put her through the mattress in my human form, so it had to be done. We needed the rest, and it worked like a charm– she curled up against my side like she belonged there. The entire time, my wolf vibrated on the edge of ecstasy, full of smug satisfaction at finally getting what I’ve been denying him since the Pairing.

The difference in me now is night and day, and I can’t ignore the possibility that Dr. Aspen might’ve been spot on.

Fated mates.

The term tastes sour in my mouth.

I’m a realist– I rely on facts and figures, and I know the odds. True fated bonds are practically extinct around here, like genetic lottery tickets that no one actually expects to hit. But then again, it’d be just my luck for fate to finally take an interest in my life at the exact moment it could do the most damage.

I rack the last bar, roll my shoulders, and towel off. Then I run the scenario through my mind again, because that’s what I do– analyze, adapt, control. If this is really a fated bond, then why the fuck didn’t I feel it before the Pairing? Wolves supposedly know instantly. The pull should be impossible to miss.

I replay every interaction I’ve had with Violet, all the way back to the bunker. The first time I saw her, when she dared to glare at me in the hall. That initial image of her seared itself into my brain: those bright blue eyes like a storm front that hadn’t broken yet, recklessly defiant and stupidly brave. My wolf perked up in that moment, stirring in a way I’d never quite felt before.