8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

N atalie

Fury startled me when he burst through the door, then shook the snow from his hair. Even more surprising was when he reached into his coat and extracted a wriggling bundle of fur.

A smile tugs at my lips. This fierce, guarded male, so wary of humans, so quick to assume the worst… and here he is. After rescuing an orphaned wolf pup, he's cooking in my tiny kitchen.

"Thanks for bringing him here." My voice is soft, sincere. "We'll take good care of him."

Something flickers across Fury's face, too quick to catch. He nods, looking away as he reaches for the carrots and onions in the cupboard. "Figured you wouldn't want me to leave him out there, being a wildlife biologist and all."

"Of course I wouldn't want you to leave him to die, and it has nothing to do with my profession." I stroke the pup's downy head, marveling at his delicate features, his oversized ears and paws. "He's lucky you found him."

Absently, I wonder out loud, "He looks about two months old, so he was born out of season. One explanation is that his mother wasn't healthy, bred late, and was an easy target for predators. The lucky little fellow escaped their notice. Right, little man?" I nuzzle his nose with mine .

An idea sparks. Still holding the pup close, I limp to the foot of the bed and start pulling off quilts and blankets. "Help me make a little den for him? Somewhere warm and cozy."

Fury blinks, then moves to assist, his fingers brushing mine as we work. A tingle races up my arm at the contact. I studiously ignore it, focusing on arranging the blankets into a snug nest in the corner near the fire.

The pup burrows in immediately, turning in circles before flopping down with a contented sigh. My heart squeezes. So vulnerable, so trusting.

"He needs a name," I muse, tapping my chin. "What about… Shadow? Because of his dark coat."

Fury cocks his head, considering. "Shadow," he repeats, his voice a low rumble. "Good, but maybe a bit… trite. How about Shaddai?"

"Shaddai" I glance up at him, curious.

A faint smile touches his lips. "It's Wolven for ‘found.' Seems fitting." He shrugs, the nonchalant movement somehow accentuating those wide shoulders and all that lovely, almost-white hair.

"Shaddai," I repeat, savoring the unfamiliar word. "Welcome to the family, little Shaddai."

Family. Whoops. Why did that word slip out? It hangs in the air between us, heavy with unspoken meaning. Risking a peek at Fury, I find him watching me with an inscrutable expression and those otherworldly silver eyes.

He clears his throat. "I should start prepping those rabbits. You hungry?"

"Starving," I admit, though food is the last thing on my mind right now. "Here, let me help— "

As I take a step, a bolt of pain lances through my injured ankle. I yelp, stumbling… and then strong arms scoop me up like I weigh nothing at all.

"Whoa there," Fury murmurs, his breath warm on my temple. "Let's not undo all my hard work patching you up, yeah?"

My face flames as he carries me to the table, setting me gently in a chair. His hands linger on my waist a moment longer than necessary, his touch searing through my sweater.

"Thanks," I mumble, flustered. Get a grip, Tally . One touch and he gets your pulse racing? "I can still help, though. Just… bring me the ingredients?"

He nods, and soon the small table is covered in an assortment of root vegetables, canned broth, and herbs. Fury sets to work, skinning and deboning the rabbits with quick, efficient movements.

Despite the gruesomeness of the task, I find myself oddly charmed by the sight of this big, grumpy male puttering around my tiny cabin. There's a surreal domesticity to it that makes my pulse flutter.

I'm such an idiot. This male has to be close to fifty years old, certainly he has a family, a wife—mate, I think they call each other—maybe kids or pups of his own.

To distract myself, I chop carrots, potatoes, and onions, the rhythmic thunk of the knife on the wooden cutting board soothing my nerves. Fury adds the meat to the pot hanging in the hearth, then slides the cutting board of veggies toward himself.

"Here, let me," he offers gruffly.

Our fingers brush as I hand him the knife. It's all I can do not to gasp at the sparks that flare on my skin at the brief contact. Is it an Other thing? A wolven thing? Or is it the undeniable attraction I feel toward him? I snatch my hand back, busying myself with the spice jars .

"Old family recipe?" Fury asks, nodding to the eclectic mix of seasonings. He's watching me again, his eyes glinting with a playful look.

Shaking my head, I fight a smile. "Nah, just making it up as I go. My mom was the real chef in the family. I loved helping her in the kitchen."

Fury hums thoughtfully, scraping the veggies into the pot. "My sister was like that. Always experimenting with whatever she could scrounge."

"You have a sister?" The question slips out before I can stop it. Fury doesn't seem the type to want me prying into his life—past, present, or future.

He stills, his shoulders going rigid. For a moment, I think he's going to shut down even further than his usual closed-off self.

But then he sighs, his posture loosening. "Have? Had?" He shrugs. "I came through the Rift alone, no family or friends. All I have of them are memories. I hope she's mated by now with a bunch of pups. Some of them would be old enough to start their own families by now."

I swallow hard, my heart aching for him as I imagine, even for a moment, what it would be like to lose everything but the clothes on my back, to never see family or friends again. "I'm so sorry, Fury."

He shrugs, not meeting my eyes. "It's been a long time."

But I can hear the old hurt in his voice, the barely healed wounds. This male has lost so much…and yet, he still has the capacity for kindness. For gentleness. My gaze flicks to Shaddai, his paws scrambling as he dreams in his little den of quilts.

Slowly, giving Fury time to pull away, I reach out and lay my hand over his where it rests on the table. His skin is hot to the touch, his knuckles rough with scars.

"Thank you," I say quietly. "For sharing, letting me in a little. I doubt it's easy. "

You're such a hypocrite, Tally. He's letting you in and you're keeping a secret you know will probably send him into orbit.

For a long moment, he just stares at our hands, an unreadable expression on his face. Then, to my shock, he turns his palm up, lacing his fingers through mine.

"No," he murmurs, his thumb brushing my knuckles. "It's not easy. But…" He raises his head, his quicksilver eyes locking onto mine. "It's somehow easier with you."

Oh. Oh wow. My breath sticks in my throat, my pulse stumbling. What is happening here? This strange, fragile thing unfurling between us is so at odds with the harsh reality of our situation.

And yet, it feels right. Inevitable. Like something slotting into place after being askew for far too long.

Fury is still watching me, his gaze intense and searching. I don't know what he's looking for, but he must find it, because he gives a small nod, his lips twitching into a ghost of a smile.

"You must be starving," he says, breaking the spell.

"What? Oh!" I blink, realizing I haven't eaten a bite and it must be afternoon. "Right. We should…"

"Eat. Yeah." He releases my hand, and I instantly feel the loss. But then he's cutting the homemade bread I had sitting on the counter, covered with a tea towel. He slathers butter on two slices, and hands one to me.

"This should tide us over until that stew is ready."

For just a second, the moment shifts, softens into something warm and companionable. But before he eats his bread, he uses the ladle to fish some meat out of the bubbling pot.

"You probably don't want to watch for the next few minutes." He shrugs and turns his back to me as he sits cross-legged and faces Shaddai.

"I'm a wildlife biologist, Fury. You don't need to hide from me. "

Despite me giving my permission, he doesn't change his position. Instead, I stand and use the back of the chair as a makeshift cane as I hobble closer to watch him feed the pup.

"It's gross, you…"

"Would love to watch."

And I do watch, fascinated, as this big, gruff wolven straight from another world chews pieces of meat then spits them back onto the saucer where little Shaddai doesn't hesitate a moment before lapping up the partially chewed food.

Mother wolves are usually the ones to do this for their pups, but Fury doesn't hesitate to engage in this picture of domesticity. Something about the affectionate way he deals with the pup, his lack of care at letting me observe, and his willingness to put his own hunger aside as he nurtures Shaddai does something weird and warm and swirly to the pit of my stomach.

You're in trouble, Tally. Are you falling for this handsome Other?

"The pup and I are going to nap." He doesn't hesitate to curl on his side on the rug near the fire as Shaddai snuggles next to him and lets out a satisfied sigh. It's a lazy, snowy day and I have nothing to do, so within minutes, I'm napping in my own bed.

A few hours later, we're back at the table eating rabbit stew. Somehow, everything between us has changed. As I sneak glances at Fury, I notice his rugged face has softened in the gentle glow of the fire. With a start, I realize I want to know him better, this complex, guarded male with the pain-weary eyes and the hidden compassionate heart.

I want to unravel his mysteries, soothe his hurts, and learn the shape of his rare smiles. I want…

I want him . Heaven help me. This is either going to be the best thing that's ever happened to me… or the worst mistake of my life.

But as Fury looks up, catching my gaze, his eyes crinkling at the corners in silent amusement, I can't bring myself to care .

Because for the first time in longer than I can remember, I feel alive. Awake. Like I'm exactly where I'm meant to be.