Chapter 19 · The Gate Was Open

He had me against the oak before I heard him coming.

No shove. Forearm across my collarbones, weight on the bone, boot planted between mine so I couldn't get a knee up. The ridge went quiet the way woods go quiet when everything with wings has already left.

“Move it,” I said.

“Your heart skipped.”

“You threw me into a tree. That's physics, not a confession.”

“No.” He tilted his head. Moonlight lay flat and white down his cheekbone. “That's not what yours does.”

I got both hands in his chest and shoved. Full weight, boots slipping on frost. He gave me half a step and took it straight back. Then he breathed in — slow, one layer at a time, an Alpha reading a scent. I watched him find it. I watched the exact second.

“Sage,” he said. “Pine tar. Mint.” His nose came almost to my hair. “Something green and bitter under all of it.”

“That's called survival. Try it sometime.”

“It's a masking kit. You smell like a healer's shelf, not a wolf. You did it on purpose.” A pause. “Missed your hair, though.”

Damn his nose.