6. Kai

CHAPTER SIX

KAI

I couldn't stop my leg from bouncing under the table. The bell above the diner door chimed for the hundredth time, and my head snapped up. Not her. Again.

"Kai, you're making me seasick," Maddy grumbled, nudging my knee with hers.

I forced my leg still, but my fingers found a napkin to shred instead. The pack's chatter faded into white noise as I stared at the door, willing it to open.

Two days. Two fucking days since I'd seen Claire, smelled her intoxicating scent of cinnamon and blackberries. My wolf paced restlessly night and day and every second in between, demanding we find our mate.

I needed to see her. I needed to talk to her. Fuck it. I needed to devour her from the lips down.

Rafe cut a glare at me from across the table. Right. No surprises.

Obsessing over the new human in town and spreading our secrets without a care would surely fall under his definition of ‘surprise.'

The bell chimed again. This time, my wolf went still.

Claire.

She stepped inside, snowflakes dusting her silver and purple hair. Her eyes scanned the diner, widening when they landed on our group. On me. The dark gray I'd come to crave hardened into steel.

My wolf whined as she deliberately turned away, settling at the counter instead of her usual booth. "Earl Grey and a breakfast sandwich to go, please," she told Marge.

I half-rose from my seat before Maddy's squint of confusion stopped me.

But I couldn't tear my eyes away. Every movement Claire made was seared into my memory. The way she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. How her fingers drummed an impatient rhythm on the counter. The slight hunch of her shoulders as she tried to make herself smaller.

I'd done that. Put that wariness there.

My sketchbook was full of her. Page after page of Claire laughing, Claire biting her lip in concentration, Claire's eyes sparking with desire. Memories I'd captured in charcoal, trying to sate the hunger that gnawed at me.

It wasn't enough. I needed her. All of her.

"Order up," Marge called. Claire grabbed the paper bag, tossing bills on the counter.

"Shit," I muttered, shoving away from the table. "I have to—I'll be right back."

I wove my way between the booths and tables, dodging the server carrying platters laden with our food. I ignored the concerned looks from my pack, the curious glances from Shauna and Phillip. None of it mattered. Only Claire.

The bell chimed as she left. I burst through the door seconds later, nearly sliding on the icy sidewalk. "Claire!" I called. "Wait up."

She didn't break stride, nor did she look back. "I don't want to talk to you, Kai. You can kindly fuck off."

The sharp, succinct retort struck a chord in me, and I grinned. Yeah, she was exactly what I needed. "Let me explain."

I caught up to her in four strides and fell in step at her side. Fates, she smelled amazing. Looked even better, too. It took every ounce of control not to bury my face in her neck, to taste her skin.

She refused to meet my gaze, but I could feel her ire radiating in my direction. But under it, I caught a hint of curiosity. Of longing. My wolf perked up, hopeful.

"I don't need explanations," she said, her voice like ice. "I've had enough secrets from my brother. I don't need more. Let's just quit while we're ahead."

"It's not—" I ran a hand through my hair, frustrated. How could I make her understand? "It's not like that. Just... give me a chance?"

She hesitated, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. I tracked the movement, unable to look away. So fucking beautiful.

The faintest flush colored her cheeks, but she narrowed her eyes. "It's not street-appropriate, is it?"

A bolt of victory shot through me, and my wolf preened. She remembered, and she respected my secrets enough to keep them quiet. Not that the empty winter streets of near-abandoned Mill Creek ran a risk of anyone overhearing. "No."

Claire nodded, already turning away. I drank in every detail I'd missed over the past two days. The slight curl at the ends of her hair. Her nose scrunching against the cold. The faint smudge of graphite on her palm.

My fingers itched to capture it all. To capture her.

We walked in tense silence, the crunch of snow under our boots the only sound. But with each step, I felt myself relax. This was right. Claire was right.

Now I just had to convince her of that.

As we stepped onto her porch, I caught sight of a wreath on the door. Evergreen boughs woven with pinecones and red berries. The scent of pine mixed with Claire's cinnamon and blackberries, and my wolf purred with delight.

Mate.

"You've been decorating," I said, my voice rougher than I intended.

Claire shrugged, unlocking the door. "Trying to, anyway. Grandpa would have wanted it."

Inside, boxes of decorations were scattered around the great room. A tree stood in the corner, bare branches reaching toward the ceiling. Claire made a beeline for a tangled mess of lights on the coffee table, pointedly ignoring my presence.

I hovered awkwardly near the door, watching as she worked at a particularly stubborn knot. "Claire, I?—"

"You wanted to talk," she interrupted, not looking up. "So, talk."

Fuck. A thousand possible sentence starters cluttered the tip of my tongue, and not a single one seemed right. My fingers twitched, aching to touch her and soothe the hurt I caused. "Let me help with that."

Claire glanced up, her steel-gray eyes guarded. Her mouth tightened on whatever she had locked and loaded, and she thrust a string of lights at me. "Fine."

We worked in silence for a few moments, the only sound the soft tinkling of bulbs and the occasional frustrated sigh. Being this close to her was both heaven and hell. My wolf strained against his leash, desperate to reach out. Touch her. Taste her. Claim her.

I cleared my throat. "I would like to immediately state Shauna's baby is not mine."

Claire's hands stilled. "Okay."

"Full disclosure, I slept with her. Only once," I continued, willing her to see the truth in my eyes, "and only to help her escape an arranged mating with a fucking monster of an alpha wolf. It very quickly backfired."

My hand throbbed with pain. I flexed my fingers, remembering the sickening crunch of bone. My sister's screams for mercy. The accusations in the eyes of Rafe and Orion and the others on their knees, brutal deaths waiting in the wings.

The guilt I lived with.

I picked up a tangled mess of Christmas lights, my fingers working to separate the strands. "My world isn't gentle," I told her. "There are pockets of goodness, like here. Rafe's all right. The Hollow wolves aren't likely to murder anyone for fun."

I freed a section of lights, letting them dangle as I continued working. "The Silver River pack I grew up in—Maddy and Shauna, too—was not like that. Strength was prized above all else, either personal or what could be bought with allies. A female's worth came from who she mated and how many pups she bred."

As expected, Claire's scent and expression soured.

"Shauna ruined herself in their eyes by sleeping with me, but I took what was meant for an alpha. That meant death for me, and as an added ‘fuck you', Bowen declared he'd mate Maddy as a trade." I flexed my hand again. "Maddy got us out, but Shauna was left behind in that rat's nest."

I should have told her no, but then Bowen would have ruined her in other ways. I should have insisted she leave with us, only that would have revealed the plan before we packed our bags.

I cleared my throat again and reached for another box. A few loose ornaments mixed with castoff bits of fake foliage. I picked up a sprig of mistletoe and spun it between my fingers. "Shauna and her mate are getting out of the country and need a place to keep their heads down until the final paperwork comes through to travel. I owe it to her to see she gets to safety."

The string of lights in Claire's hands drooped with inaction, her hands trembling. Horror and sadness washed through her scent as she lifted her eyes to meet mine. "That's why you think you deserved what happened to your hand."

It wasn't a question.

"Bowen broke it after he hunted us down, and my wolf has been spiraling into madness ever since." I held out my hand. The softer skin of the top, marked up with thin lines. My palm where the scars were harder to see and easier to feel. "The culmination of a long series of fuckups."

"No." Her jaw tightened, and she huffed angrily as she adjusted her glasses. "You were trying to help someone. That's admirable."

I grunted, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Her words washed over me, a soothing balm to the raw edges of my guilt. The understanding in her eyes, the softness in her voice—it was more than I deserved, but everything I craved.

A fraction of the weight piled on my chest eased. My wolf stirred, urging me to close the distance. To wrap her in my arms and never let someone so precious go.

Claire's lips quirked in what might have been an attempt at a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Just... maybe don't wait two whole days to spill next time? I've had enough of secrets."

I let out a strangled laugh, running a hand through my hair. "Deal."

Her smile widened, this time seeming genuine. The last bit of weight slipped from my chest. If she forgave me, maybe, one day, I could forgive myself.

Mate.

My wolf circled inside me. The need to claim Claire was overwhelming. The urge to press her against the nearest wall, to sink my teeth into the smooth column of her throat and bind her to me forever, was almost too powerful to resist.

I wanted her. But I wanted her to want it, too.

Claire reached for a box of ornaments, pulling it onto her lap. As she rummaged through the contents, she stole little glances in my direction. My eyes lingered on her lips, the delicate curve of her collarbone. The slight peek of pale green bra strap at her shoulder.

Her scent shifted, a hint of nervousness mixing with the cinnamon and blackberries. She pulled out a worn, wooden candy cane and delicately traced the edges. "Earlier, you used the word ‘mate'," she said, not looking up. "I've heard it before, but... it seems to mean something different to you. Is it some kind of wolf thing?"

The question sent my pulse racing. She didn't want secrets, and I didn't think I could force a lie from my lips. Not about this.

"Mates," I began, choosing my words carefully, "can be like any relationship, really. Some wolves choose their mates for political reasons, some for love, some for convenience. It's not always romantic."

I paused, gauging Claire's reaction. She nodded, encouraging me to continue.

"But for the lucky few," I said, my voice softening, "there's something more. Fated mates. It's... it's like finding your soulmate, but deeper. When a wolf finds their fated mate, it's like the whole world shifts. Everything becomes clearer, brighter. It's as if you've spent your whole life seeing in black and white, and suddenly, there's color everywhere."

Claire's eyes widened, her lips slightly parted. "And how does a shifter know?"

I toyed with the sprig of mistletoe I'd been holding, twirling it between my fingers. "For some, it's a slow awakening. A gradual pull toward someone that grows stronger over time."

"And for others?" she breathed.

I held her gaze, and I felt that familiar pull. The one that had drawn me to her from the moment I first saw her. "For others, it's an explosion. A scent. A touch, maybe. One moment you're standing there, breathing in the air, and the next you're on fire."

Claire's breath hitched, and I caught the faintest hint of arousal in her scent. Heat rolled through me, hard and fast. I shoved back on my inner wolf, fighting to keep control.

"Am I..." she hesitated, adjusting her glasses. "Am I your mate? Is that why you've been watching me?"

The world narrowed to just us. The light filtering through the windows, the scent of pine and cinnamon, the warmth of her body so close to mine. I lifted the mistletoe above our heads in a silent offering.

Slowly, giving her every chance to pull away, I leaned in. I paused just before our lips touched, my breath mingling with hers. "Yes."