Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
“Wait, do they know you’re a shifter?”
Miles nodded. “It was one of the first things they said in a handwritten letter they wrote and left in my bedroom.”
The chill intensified to what felt like an army of ants crawling over my shoulders and down my spine. I tried to shake off the invisible fuckers. I slowed and motioned toward a bench that was tucked away inside a copse of thick oak trees. A squirrel sitting on the back of the bench stopped grooming itself and leaped off, its tiny claws scratching over the bark as it disappeared. Besides the squirrel, it was just us out here, and the wall of trees gave us a good amount of privacy.
“That’s really messed up. Fuck, Miles.” I sat down on the bench.
“It has not been ideal, to put it lightly.”
“Are they just, like, in love with you?” Even saying that out loud felt weird. Suggesting anything about love or love-adjacent next to my fated mate felt equal parts natural and extremely vulnerable. It was premature, even though I wasn’t directing the word at him. Another emotion—and one that was way more surprising and slightly upsetting—was a pang of jealousy. That was odd. I’d never been the jealous type, not with any of my previous relationships, and that extended from romantic to platonic. I knew people who’d get jealous of their friends hanging out with another group, or talking about a new acquaintance. Not me, though. I’d been immune to the bite of that obnoxious green snake.
Well, at least I thought I’d been immune.
Then again, this was an unhinged loon we were discussing here. I assumed it was the fated mate connection that scrambled my logic. It was hard to ignore now that we were sitting together, our legs only a couple inches apart, his fingertips splayed out on the wooden bench and brushing against mine. That tiny fraction of physical touch blended with the intense and alluring scent that wafted off him every time a strong breeze whipped up to create this undeniable pull in my core. As if someone had tied us together with invisible string and wanted us pressed together.
“I think so,” Miles answered. “It started with texts at first, and they were innocent enough. Like a friend or possibly an old lover I’d lost the number of. But things escalated after I refused to continue talking to this person because they wouldn’t reveal who they really were. Then the physical letters started coming. That’s when threats started, which really only happened a couple months before I moved to Burlington.”
“What were the threats?”
“Silver bullets to the heart or an iron collar around my neck.”
My entire body stiffened. As if someone dumped that gallon of ice water over my head that I’d been asking for. I rubbed at my neck, I could almost feel the iron collar still locked onto me.
There were only two things that were able to strike fear into a wolf shifter’s heart. Mine skipped a few beats. There was a connection there that I wanted to grasp at, but I couldn’t push past the feeling of having that fucking collar on my neck. It happened months ago and the feeling was still as fresh as if it happened yesterday. The instant it closed around me, it completely sapped my energy and—even worse—my will. I had no choice but to agree to every single command given to me. Like a professionally trained dog at their master’s heel, except I was a human who’d gone from being free one second to being captured and used as a pawn the next.
“What? What is it?” Miles asked.
Now it was my turn to close off. I hadn’t really talked about that time with anyone except for Chris. I thought that conversation with my best friend had worked like a balm over the pain of those few hours being held literally fucking hostage, but being asked to bring it up again made me feel a massive spike of anxiety. My mouth dried up. I balled my hands into fists, which ended up breaking that butterfly-light connection with Miles. That, in turn, made my anxiety worse.
Fucking hell.
I couldn’t have a panic attack here. Not in front of Miles. It had been years since my last one. I thought I was good now. Cured, even.
But the second the curtains started to close on my vision was the second I realized it was happening.
Oh shit. This isn’t good.
Chapter Six
Fresh Air
MILES
Dylan’s complexion blanched. His entire mood shifted in the span of a single heartbeat. “What? What is it?” I looked around the empty park, wondering if he saw something that had him spooked.
He rubbed at his neck and shook his head. His leg bounced up and down, shaking the bench. “Nothing.”
It clearly wasn’t nothing. “You can talk to me,” I said. Without thinking twice, I reached over and put a hand on his bouncing leg. It didn’t mean anything more than a simple sign of friendly support. The fact that my heart started to beat a little faster and my core became warmer at the touch didn’t mean anything. Nothing at all.