Chapter 23: Whose Bed

The Alpha's rooms were finally mine that night.

Penny had scrubbed out the tobacco and cedar. I had put my own quilt on the bed.

Conall stood just inside the door, with his sleeves pushed up and a look I had learned to read.

He was a man holding a long list.

"First question," he said.

"Not yet."

I crossed the room and took the locket from the dresser.

I hung it around my neck, where the gold lay warm between my breasts.

"I forgave Adelaide a little today," I said. "Not enough. I'm not going to visit her."

"You don't have to."

"But I'm going to keep this on. My mother's face and her friend's, together. That's the whole truth of it."

He nodded slowly. He did not say anything wise.

That was one of the things I loved in him now.

"Take off your shirt," I said.

He did it in one pull and dropped it on the floor.

"Boots. Belt."

He obeyed, with his eyes on mine, and a flush climbing his throat.

I walked a slow circle around him.

I ran my nails down his back, over the scarred shoulders, and felt him shiver.

"Five years you came to this bed late," I said. "Tonight you're early."

"Tonight I'm early."

"On the bed. On your back."

He went, and I followed, and knelt astride his chest.

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