Chapter 11

Sam

The lock clicked as I turned the key. Ushering Meg in ahead of me, I closed and locked the door behind us. The bright tang of pine and wolf greeted me, instantly taking me back to a hundred different memories here. Coming here with my parents, having my first shift right outside these walls, meeting here to run with my pack, accepting Beta at the communal fire ring out back—one of the last times I remember my father looking proudly at me as his son.

So many wonderful memories were held within these walls. And now I'd brought my mate here—though it was nothing like I'd imagined.

Instead of bringing her here with the intent of sharing something profoundly intimate, I felt like Attila the Hun, having practically kidnapped her, carted her off to a foreign land, and forced her to be with me. Welcome to your new home, Megan.

"This is it," I said instead, swallowing back my desires and dreams of how I'd once thought of bringing my mate—the woman I intended to spend the rest of my life with—to this place.

I tried to take in my cabin's interior with fresh eyes as Megan might.

Directly in front of the door was the kitchen—small, but fully functional. Off to the left of that was the tiny bathroom, comprised of a shower, sink, and toilet. Jutting out from the wall beside the bathroom was a stacked washer/dryer combo.

There was a little eating nook directly to the left, and to the right was a large sectional couch that cocooned a living room/gathering space. Behind the far side of the sectional was the full-sized bed where I always slept if I stayed overnight. A small, bricked fireplace was against the back wall and on the other side of that was a queen-sized bed with a bunked sleeping space above the back half. There were two chests of drawers and a nightstand scattered between the beds and fireplace and a collapsible table leaning against the back wall.

It certainly wasn't palatial, but it was clean and homey. I glanced at Megan. I wasn't sure if she was aware enough of her surroundings to notice much or not.

"Why don't we get you comfortable on the couch, and I'll start a fire and get things warmed up." I was cold, so I knew Meg must be freezing with the alternate sweating and chills first shifts brought on.

"Sam, what is that smell?" she asked, clearly puzzled.

"Can you describe it?" It smelled the same as it always did to me, but Megan's senses were changing as my toxins altered her body.

She took another whiff. "It smells…strong. Dark. Woodsy. Part revolting and part intriguing."

"I don't know about the revolting part, but you might be smelling some of the lingering scents of pack members. We all use the cabin from time to time. There's a lot of different smells. It's probably a little confusing to your nose right now. Your sense of smell—your vision and hearing, too—will all get sharper over the next few days. Part of the werewolf package." I grimaced as she wrinkled her nose.

She sank wearily down into the couch cushions, and I grabbed the spare blanket off the edge of my bed and wrapped it around her shoulders, now curious if she'd find my scent on it—and if she'd like it. Suddenly, I wished I'd grabbed a different blanket. I'd never been self-conscious about my scent before, but I was now.

If she smelled anything, she didn't let on. I was both disappointed and relieved. Her nose probably couldn't pick up individual wolves yet. I had hoped she'd find my scent attractive at the least.

With some quickly crinkled newspaper, splinters of kindling, and a few logs on top of that, a cheery crackle and popping soon filled the quiet space. Meg huddled under my blanket. I couldn't read her face, and honestly had no idea how to approach her now that we were here. Alone. Just the two of us, waiting for her next shift. I nervously cleared my throat.

"Um, are you thirsty?"

She blinked, startled. "Yeah. Actually, I'm parched."