Not sure where I’m going, just knowing that I need to get away, to put some distance between us, I keep forcing one foot in front of the other as I wrestle with my cat for control and try to convince myself that this isn’t happening. It’s all just a dream. A really, really terrible dream. Any second now I’ll wake up and have a good laugh about this whole stupid dream over my morning coffee. Totally.
Not paying any attention to where I’m heading, all my focus having been on keeping my feet going and listening to him crashing through the brush behind me, I now find myself standing at the base of an old rickety set of stairs. My treehouse. Damn my traitorous body goddamnit. The last place I want to be, with this fucker on my heels, is my favorite place in the goddamn world that looks like a set out of the perfect hallmark romance movie. It’s the one nice thing my dad ever did for my mom. He built her a hideaway, this treehouse.
From the outside it looks like a perfect miniature replica of the main cabin, set up on stilts and nestled between two massive ancient oak trees. Inside there is a little kitchenette, a table, and a bed tucked into the back corner. It’s not much, but it's idyllic… and so fucking romantic it’s not even funny. So naturally, it’s the last place I want to be with my supposed mate closing in on me. Clearly I have zero chance of getting out of this confrontation tonight, so I resign myself to the inevitable and walk up the stairs to the tiny house, resolving to at least not have the conversation naked and standing in the middle of the woods.
I’m just pulling on a silk robe I had stored in the small cedar chest at the foot of the bed, when I hear the clomp of his heavy work boots coming up the stairs. Shifters aren’t ones to be bothered by nudity, I mean it kind of comes with the territory so why make a big deal out of it, but if I want any hope of having a productive conversation with the good Sheriff, I need to at least attempt some level of modesty. That being said, it doesn’t stop me from only tying the belt loosely at my waist, leaving the edges of the robe to hang open, only barely covering my breasts. I want him capable of forming sentences, but still a little off balance. Evil? Yes. Do I care? Not one bit. I’m not happy about this situation, and I have no intention of making him any happier about it than I am.
When he finally pushes open the door, I’m standing in the middle of the compact space with my hands braced on my hips again, ready to square off against him and unsure of how this is about to go. Needing to keep the upper hand as long as possible, I start in before he can even close the door behind him.
“Why are you following me?” I ask, my tone accusatory.
“I… I don’t know.” He mumbles. Interesting. He seems confused; does he feel the same pull I do? Is that a thing? Can humans feel the bond too before its acknowledged?
“No. I… that’s not entirely true. I’m looking for someone. A thief. They stole a car tonight, and I tracked them here.” I have to bite back a smile at the look of shocked confusion on his face at his admission, I don’t think he meant to say all that.
“Well, that explains why the Sheriff is on my property in the middle of the night, but why are you here? Why did you follow me?” I press.
He looks at me for a moment, his head cocked to the side as if studying me, trying to figure me out. “Kaden.” He finally says, something behind his eyes softening a degree with the confession.
“Kaden.” I repeat just as softly. Something inside me clicks when I say his name, like that first snap of a glow stick, going from dark and cold to the start of a bright glow, not fully bright yet, but you see the potential if you just keep cracking at it.
Goddamnit.
His name feels right as it passes my lips, familiar on my tongue even though I’ve never said it before. It doesn’t help that when he hears me say it, the sexiest little grin tugs at the left corner of his mouth. Oh, fuck me, is that a dimple? Of course he has a sexy-as-fuck dimple. Again, I could really use more languages of curse words to describe just how unfortunate this new development is for me and my needy little pussy. Yes, I mean that in both senses of the word, dammit.
At once we both seem to realize we have just been staring at one another for god knows how long and we both look away, me looking down to fiddle with the tie at my waist, and he looks around the room as he tugs on the back on his neck. The only thing I notice as he does this is the way his biceps bulge through both layers of fabric that cling to them and start picturing how amazing it would feel to hold on to them while he pounds into me… NO! Ugh. I seriously need to stop.
“So yeah… I uh… I was chasing down the car, and my tracker led me here, and then…”
