Chapter 8: The Founders' Lodge

The Founders' lodge had one room, one stove and one bed.

Jasper kicked the door shut against the wind, and the sound of the storm dropped to a roar behind the logs.

The beta and the elders had run for the Council hall on the other side of the island.

Nobody had said who would take the lodge, and neither of us had spoken up to take the hall.

I was soaked to the knees and shaking so hard my teeth clicked.

"Stove," said Jasper.

He knelt, fed it kindling from the basket and struck a match.

The fire caught, and orange light climbed the walls.

"Get those wet things off," he said, without turning around. "There are blankets in the chest."

"There's one bed."

"I'll take the floor."

"No," I said.

He went still with the match in his fingers.

I crossed the room and stood behind him, and my hands were not shaking anymore.

"Separate rooms, you said," I told the back of his neck. "There's only one room."

"Clara."

"Stand up."

He stood and turned around.

His wet hair hung over his forehead, and his eyes were dark and very steady.

I put my hand flat on his chest, where his heart was going hard under the wet wool.

"You're not cold," I said.

"No."

"What are you?"

"Wanting," said Jasper. "For four days. For longer than that, if I'm honest."

I kissed him.

He made a rough sound against my mouth, and then his hands were in my hair and he kissed me back hard.

It was deep and hot and unhurried, and I opened my mouth under his.

His thumb traced my jaw, so gently that my eyes stung.

"I've got you," he said against my lips.

"I know," I said.

I unbuttoned his coat and pushed it off his shoulders.

He pulled my wet sweater over my head and dropped it by the stove.

His hands found the clasp of my bra and he unhooked it with one flick.

When the cloth fell away he stopped and looked at me, and his chest rose and fell.

"God," he said. "Look at you."

He cupped my breasts in both hands and brushed his thumbs over my nipples until they were tight and aching.

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