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Neither of us says anything for a few seconds.
“You felt that?” I finally ask.
“I-I think so.”
I look down at the half-finished fence. “I felt you too. Felt the flash of pain. That’s why I was scared.”
“Okay,” Nora whispers. “That’s new.”
“Stay where you are. I’m coming home.”
“You don’t have—”
“Want to.”
“Okay,” she agrees softly, which tells me she’s more shaken than she’s letting on. Not about the burn, but about whatever is happening between us.
I pack up quickly, and by the time I turn onto Briar End Lane, Nora is already outside. She’s standing on the porch in leggings and one of my sweaters, her hand wrapped loosely in a dish towel. The second I see it, the knot under my ribs tightens again.
Nora looks up before I reach the cottage, and her eyes find mine immediately. She comes down the steps as I cross the grass and carefully take her injured hand in mine.
“Show me.”
“It’s barely anything.” She unwraps the towel. The burn is red across two fingers and the side of her palm, but the skin isn’t blistered.
Relief rolls through me so hard that I feel it in my knees.
Nora sways.
I catch her around the waist before she can stumble. “Whoa.”
Her good hand grips my arm. “Did your knees just go weak?”
I stare at her. “You felt that?”
She nods slowly, her eyes wide on mine.
I take her into the kitchen and hold her hand beneath cool running water. Once the burn has cooled, I dress it properly, then we sit at the table while she watches me with that thoughtful expression she gets when she’s trying to solve something.
“It’s not the first time we’ve felt each other.” A blush stains her cheeks. “You remember the day you left that job half-finished?”
I remember clearly. I was across town replacing a cabinet door when the need to get back to her hit so hard that I packed up without finishing. When I got home, Nora launched herself at me, her hands clawing at my clothes. We ended up fucking on the table, desperate for each other.
It was a close call that day. The need to bite her almost overwhelmed me. The desire hasn’t gone away. If anything, it’s worse now. Every time I bury my face against her neck, my teeth ache. Every time she comes apart beneath me, the wolf presses close with the same instinctive certainty.
Mark.
Claim.
Mine.
I no longer pretend the desire belongs only to him… because I want it too. I want my scent on her in a way no one can mistake. I want the bond that Reid describes when he talks about Scarlett. I want Nora tied to me in every way the magic understands.
But I refuse to do it when I don’t know what it might cost her.
Nora looks down at her bandaged fingers. “And when you cut your hand at work last week, mine started hurting.”
I stare at her. “You never told me that.”
