He leads me outside, both of our feet devoid of footwear. I’m not used to walking barefoot outdoors, and I try not to cringe when I step on twigs, pebbles, and stems of wildflowers.
“Evan, where are we going? Shouldn’t we put some shoes on?”
He slows and looks down at my feet. “Oh, I’m sorry Zara. I’m used to walking barefoot out here. Let me run inside and get my flip-flops for you.”
He hurries inside and is back in a matter of seconds with the flip-flops I’d been wearing the last few days.
I can’t help but stare at them as he hands them over. “These are yours as well?”
“Of course,” he says. “As were the clothes in the backpack.”
“Oh,” I say as I slip my feet into the flip-flops. If they were his, that would explain why they were too big for me. “Well, if these are yours, then where were my shoes?”
He shrugs. “Beats me.”
“And how did your flip-flops wind up on my feet that night in the first place?” I ask, raising an eyebrow sceptically at him.
“I used my head for more than a hat rack that night, and put them on your feet before you woke up. Now come on,” he says, taking my hand again and pulling me after him.
His words sift through my mind, but I hold my tongue as I trudge after him. His pace is quick and I stumble along behind him, trying not to reinjure myself by tripping over roots and fallen branches.
“So, you found me when I was unconscious in the forest?” I ask, suddenly feeling nervous about what his answer might be.
He glances back at me, and must have noticed that I’m struggling to keep up because his pace slows a little. He flushes as he watches my feet tromp through the jungle for a few seconds before he turns his gaze forward. “Yeah.”
“Any idea how I got out here in the first place?”
He shakes his head as he holds a low hanging branch above him and pulls me out from under it. “Nope.”
About to move forward, I touch his arm, causing him to pause. His golden eyes meet mine as he gives me a quizzical, though troubled, look. I arch my brows. “You sure?”
His eyes flick down to my hand still in his. His lightly tanned skin is warm, yet rough, against my smooth, cocoa soft palm. “I followed you for a ways. Your scent was so strong. I knew you were my mate, and a shifter like me, but you wouldn’t respond to my calls. I didn’t understand why you kept running and running without answering me.”
I swallow, feeling the pain in his voice and the worry he surely must have endured at that time. Even though I barely know him, I can’t deny the strong feelings I have toward him. It must have hurt to call out to me, to chase after me, and not be acknowledged at all.
Closing my eyes, I inhale a shaky breath to try and relax my nerves and clear my head. Will I ever find out what happened?
Letting go of my hand, he cups my chin in both of his and draws my face up. My breath catches in my throat at his touch. The intensity of his gaze captures mine when I open my eyes.
“Promise me that you’ll never be that reckless again, okay? You could have killed yourself,” he scolds, his voice low and laced with emotion. “Many animals die pushing themselves to the limits. I’m so thankful I found you unconscious instead of dead.”
Blushing, I look down at his lips, seeing just how close he is from me. My heart jumps before he pulls away with a low growl. I stand there, staring at him, trying to catch my breath as I try to collect myself.
YOU ARE READING
Zara's Wolf (Book 1 of the Zara's Wolf Trilogy) BWWM
Werewolf[Complete] "He follows me around like a predator seeking a moment of weakness before he takes down his prey. But his eyes are soft and tell me a different story." Eighteen-year-old Zara is a born and raised African-American city girl. She's always...
