Chapter 8: Rule Two

Odette's POV

I had not slept in three nights.

My wolf wouldn't let me.

She paced under my ribs from sunset to sunrise, and the only thing that calmed her was cold air and open ground.

So I stood in the south field in bare feet, with the grass wet under my soles and the moon high.

I felt him before I saw him.

My skin prickled from the nape of my neck to the small of my back.

I turned my head, and Alasdair was standing at the edge of the field.

His hands hung open at his sides, and he was breathing hard.

His eyes were amber in the dark.

"Odette," he said.

"You're on my grandmother's land," I said.

"I know."

"Nobody invited you."

"I know that, too." He took one step, then another. "I couldn't stay away. I tried."

I wanted to say it was a poor excuse.

What came out of my mouth was, "Your voice is different."

"So is yours."

He stopped an arm's length from me and looked at my face, and I let him.

His gaze went to my eyes, and his throat moved.

"They were grey a week ago," he said.

"I know."

"What happened to you?"

I thought about the tin sitting in a drawer in my grandmother's kitchen.

I thought about the woman who slept in his bed and had her fingers on his phone.

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