Veiled Spirits

After a moment, I step out of his hold. Bishop reluctantly lets me go, his blue eyes still crinkled with worry. I try to rearrange my face into something that says I’m fine. By Bishop’s grimace, it doesn’t work.

Huffing, I give up on trying to appear anything other than done with life. Turning, I stride toward the door before remembering that Reggie wanted us to meet the owners. I veer toward the front desk instead. Reluctantly, I walk up to the smiling wolf.

The last thing I want to do tonight is meet people. But for the wolf who has shown me more kindness than the entire town of Hawthorne Grove, I’ll do it. “Where are the owners you want us to meet, Reggie?” I ask tiredly.

“I’ll go get them. One sec!” Reggie sprints off, leaving Bishop and I staring after him. I glance at Bishop, and he’s wearing the same bemused expression I am.

Reggie’s a character, that’s for sure.

It’s only a minute or two before Reggie comes out of the back office, followed by three massive wolves.

Jesus Christ, those dudes are built.

The largest one is probably six-foot-five and made of pure muscle. His sun-bleached blond hair is trimmed short, and he has a day’s worth of blond stubble. Together, with a jaw sharp enough to cut granite, flinty aquamarine eyes, and tattoos peeking out of his black tee, his whole appearance screams don’t fuck with me.

Duly fucking noted, wolf.

To his left is a man who looks like a slightly shorter and much friendlier version of the bigger one. The same blond hair, blue-green eyes, and angular bone structure make me think they’re siblings. His golden hair is longer and messier than his brother’s, though.

Whereas the tall one is intimidating, this wolf wears an easygoing smile. It matches his laid-back band T-shirt and jeans. His eyes are still sharp, constantly assessing his surroundings. On second thought, I’m not sure how much friendlier he actually is.

The third wolf stands somewhere in between the other two in height. His jet-black hair curls around his ears, and his moss-green eyes are narrowed on me. He’s just as good-looking as the other two, with a model-like square jaw, high cheekbones, and slightly crooked nose. Instead of a tee and jeans, he wears a charcoal button-down and black slacks.

I swallow uneasily as they get closer. My instincts are screaming at me to run away from the three predators prowling closer.

Rather than running, I stand my ground. I tip my chin up, refusing to show how unnerved I am. Wolves respect courage. I’ll be damned if I give them a reason to look down on me. Enough people already do.

When the three wolves and Reggie reach us, Bishop tips his chin slightly in deference. I look at him with wide eyes. Since when does Bishop show respect to anyone or anything other than me? He has almost as big of a problem with authority as I do.

“Luca.” He nods to the largest one. “Archer and Cain, good to see you.”

He knows these wolves?

Of course, he does. There’s no way he’d let me come to a gym owned by randoms. Bishop is meticulous when it comes to my safety.

“Bishop,” Luca growls in a deep voice. He turns his startling aquamarine eyes on me. Arching one blond brow, he asks without words what my name is.

I bristle at his wordless demand. Shoving my annoyance down, I answer, “I’m Izzy.” I’d really like to keep coming to this gym. Pissing off the owners will definitely get me kicked out. I can play nice for one conversation.

Luca sticks out one large palm, clearly intending to shake my hand. I don’t really want to touch the big wolf, but I’m trying to seem polite here. With an internal sigh, I place my pale hand in his tanned one.

Familiar tingles shoot up my arm from where we touch.

No. No fucking way. This can’t be happening.

My wide eyes bounce up to meet his, and he doesn’t look surprised. I forgot that wolves can tell through smell. He’s likely known since he stepped foot into the gym.

Shit. Shit. Shit. What the fuck am I supposed to do?

Run away and hope to never see him again is really my only option. But freaking out right now will only clue him into my plans. Smoothing my expression, I try to look like I’m unaffected by him. I’m pretty sure I fail, but it’s the best I can do right now.

Turning toward his brother, I make hesitant eye contact with Archer. He also sticks out his hand, and I pray to anyone who will listen that I don’t feel anything when we touch.

It doesn’t work.

I feel the same tingles as I did with his brother. Briefly closing my eyes, I will the frustrated tears away. I don’t want to give away my emotions right now.

When I’m sure I won’t burst into tears, I extract my hand from the smiling wolf. I stick my hand out for Cain to shake, already knowing what’s going to happen.