True to his word, Caleb stayed outside the door, keeping guard all night long.

I knew this because I did not sleep for the entire night. I spent a couple of hours in front of my computer, agonising over the first three sentences of my novel and trying to pretend I wasn’t sneaking a look outside at him every few minutes.

The first time I looked out at him, I noticed he’d transformed into his wolf. I guessed his fur – the beautiful grey pelt with a line of fiery red fur along his back – was warmer than the duvet.

Each time I glanced over, there was his grey body with the flash of red, turned away from the window, the ears pricked back, eyes alert for movement in the night.

I couldn’t work with him sitting out there staring like that. I shut down the computer, went to the bathroom (where Caleb sat outside the door. It took me twenty minutes just to do my business because I was trying so hard not to make any noise he could hear). I came back into the cabin and went to bed, where I tossed and turned for hours, my mind whirring over everything Caleb had told me.

I met a werewolf. An actual werewolf. He rescued me from two other werewolves who were trying to kidnap me in order to force him to do something he doesn’t even know what yet, for some shapeshifter gang that’s apparently been operating for years without ever hitting the news.

Now this selfsame werewolf was outside my door, standing guard like a watchdog … wait, that was probably the wrong analogy.

And the reason these wolves were after me was because I was a mate. I had wolfish genes. I almost wasn’t surprised. My mother always said I had a wild streak.

If only she knew.

Actually, did she know? Did my mother have these genes, too? I’d never met my father. She’d told me he was a vacuum cleaner salesman she’d met in the bar she worked at, and he’d been charming, but forgettable, but was that a lie? Could he be a werewolf, too? I mean, vacuum cleaner salesman? Really?

Don’t think about it. Go to sleep.

But I couldn’t. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw those two wolves circling me, their teeth bared, their bodies poised to attack. My heart pounded in my chest, and my eyes flew open again, checking every corner of the room for glowing eyes.

My gaze fell on Caleb’s sleek, wolfish visage – a silhouette in the moonlight, just visible through the kitchen window. Just seeing him there made my heart beat faster, but in a good way. My personal protector. It was kind of cool, actually.

I can’t believe you just thought that. This is a serious situation. You are literally the female lead in a horror film right now. And you may have the sexy werewolf guarding the door right now, but all he needs is for the baddies to feed him a poisoned donut and then you’re really in trouble.

You wanted something different from Old Garsmouth. Well, you got it.

My gaze fluttered across to the window again. Caleb stalked along the front porch, on a circuit of the cabin, then sat down in front of the window again, his long tongue panting against his teeth. As beautiful as his wolf form was, I kept remembering the taut muscles of human Caleb as he slammed into his brother. Goddamn, he was sexy. And funny, too. And nice. I mean, he seemed nice. I guess I didn’t really know him, but he was standing outside protecting me. He didn’t push me to invite him inside. That seemed pretty nice to me.

I wanted to invite Caleb inside, to beg him to protect me from a much closer proximity. But that would be foolish. And I was done doing foolish things for now.

It’s nice of Caleb to stay with me. He doesn’t have to do this. And the way he flirts with me …

Don’t be ridiculous. He’s not interested, and even if he was, you’re not interested in him. He’s white, and you know that’s a recipe for disaster. Not to mention the whole werewolf thing. He thinks you have this gene, that you could be a potential mate. But that’s ridiculous … whoever heard of a black werewolf …

I’m so confused … so tired … and I can’t sleep …

My eyes fluttered open. Daylight streamed through the tiny window above the desk. My sheets were balled up around my torso. I’d been asleep, probably for hours.

I rubbed my eyes, adjusting to the sudden influx of light. A shadow moved across the end of the bed. A man, completely naked, stood over me, holding a square object in front of my face. A bomb? A weapon?

My heart leapt into my throat. I tried to scream, but I was still half asleep. All that came out was a frightened squeak.

“Ah,” Caleb’s voice said. “You’re awake.”

It’s just Caleb. Relief flooded my body, along with another feeling I was going to do my best to ignore. I sat up, ready to admonish him for coming inside the cabin, but he pressed a warm mug of tea into my hands. He sure knew his way to an English girl’s heart.

“What time is it?” I fumbled for my mobile.

“About ten,” Caleb said, giving me that sexy grin. “I heard you tossing about last night, so I thought I’d let you sleep late. I figured you could do with it.”

“Yeah …” My eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight, and Caleb’s naked body came fully into view. He wasn’t even wearing the duvet. My gaze flickered over his lean figure, the elaborate tattoos dancing across his chest, the taut muscles of his thighs, the V of his abs leading down to … to …

Oh god. It was huge. He was hung like … like an animal. My stomach churned. I was only two minutes into my resolution to ignore my desire for him, and already it was a raging failure.

“You like what you see?” Caleb’s voice snapped me out of my trance. My face flushed with heat. Oh crap, he saw me looking. And he was half hard. Oh crap, oh crap.

Thinking fast, I threw a pillow at him. He caught it easily, damn him. “You’re disgusting. How did you get inside?”

“The window above the desk was unlatched. You’re a bit shit at this whole hiding-out-and-keeping-safe thing.”

“I haven’t had much practice.” I sipped my tea. He’d made it perfectly, damn and god bless him.

“Luckily, you have me.” Caleb sat on the edge of the bed, his thigh brushing against mine. The touch of his skin sent an electric shiver through my whole body. Why, why did he make me feel like this? Was it just my genes reacting to his pheromones? Was this just nature's way of trying to make me have his strong, sexy wolf babies?

I rubbed my head. These thoughts were going to give me a migraine. “Yeah, lucky. Lucky to be a prisoner in my own cabin with two homicidal werewolves on my tail. Lucky is exactly what I’d call myself right now.”

He tossed the pillow back at me. I grabbed it before it knocked over my tea.

“They’re not homicidal, technically. They’re just in the market for a kidnapping.”

“That makes me feel so much better.” I finished my tea, feeling more alert already. “What do I do now? Are they still after me?”

Caleb nodded. “Yeah. Robbie’s outside right now, hiding in the trees. I don’t think he’ll attack – he’s just keeping watch, making sure we don’t leave the area, waiting for me to leave you alone so they can strike.”

“If it’s you they really want, why don’t they just try talking to you, like normal, non-homicidal people.”

“Because they ken I wouldn’t care about what they had to say. I think it’s best if I move in here. I’ll be able to keep an eye out for you.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I am not kidding. If I let you out of my sight for a moment, those two are going to pounce on you.”

“But … but you can’t move in here!” I gestured at the space. “It’s barely big enough for one person! Where would you sleep?”

I can’t have him in here. I’ll never get any work done if an enormous, gorgeous wolf man is doing pull-ups on the door frame and bringing me cups of tea and sliding his hands all over my body—

“We’ll top and tail.” Caleb swung his leg up onto the bed beside me, his toes facing me, as if to demonstrate. Now his whole leg was pressed up against mine, sending another pulse of delight straight to my core. His crotch was open in front of me again. My eyes landed immediately between his legs, and my cheeks burned.

“That’s not happening.”

Caleb lifted one eyebrow. “… You have a better idea?”

This is ridiculous. We can’t do this. I’m not going to last a day. “Damn right I have a better idea. You can sleep in your own cabin.”

“Only if you come with me.” His face turned serious, his eyes boring into mine. “I don’t want to tell you what to do, Rosa, but if my brothers get their hands on you, I can’t promise you’ll remain in one piece. The Macleans are basically the werewolf mafia. They won’t hesitate to hurt you if they think it will get them what they want from me.”

I gritted my teeth. I didn’t want Caleb here, in my space, being all gorgeous and distracting while I was trying to write my book. But with the werewolf mafia involved … an image of his brother’s bared teeth flashed before me. I shuddered.

“Fine. I guess we’re roommates.” I am so going to regret this. But at least I’ll be alive to regret it. Caleb started to say something, but I cut him off. “We’re just roommates. And I have a few rules.”

“Lay it on me.”

“One, you have to wear clothes while you’re in your human form. Duvets and towels don’t count.”

“You’re going to deprive yourself of all this?” Caleb gestured to his body. My stomach flipped as my eye travelled along his sculpted chest.

“I know it will be tough for me, but I’ll live,” I said sarcastically, although I was a little sad about it. I patted the pillow he’d placed on the bed. Pouting, he arranged it over his crotch.

“Number two, you have to be quiet. No talking at all during the hours of nine and three.”

“A strange rule, but sure, whatever.”

“It’s not strange. I came to Crookshollow to write this book. Why did you think I chose a cabin in the middle of the woods? Did you think I have a fetish for cockroaches and malfunctioning plumbing? I wanted a quiet place to work, away from people, especially away from white men. So far, you and your werewolf family have robbed me of a day of productive writing. That won’t happen again.”

“Fine. I’ll be as quiet as a mouse. Any more rules?”

I jabbed my finger at the overstuffed chintz chair in front of the fire. “Yep. You’re sleeping in that chair.”

Caleb looked incensed. “No way. That thing is like sitting on a cactus. I’d rather sleep on the floor.”

“That works for me, too.” I shoved his leg off the side of the bed.

Caleb made a face. “Can’t we share the bed? I promise I won’t hog the blankets.”

“That’s not going to happen, so get it out of your head, wolf-boy.”

“Is that all the rules?” Caleb gave me a wicked grin. “Will you discipline me if I disobey?”

I sighed. “I need breakfast.”

“Ah, now that I can help with.” Caleb swept off the bed and practically skipped to the kitchen. “One breakfast, coming up!”

After a breakfast of bacon sandwiches made by Caleb – and after I made Caleb chip the burnt bacon off the top of the toaster – I walked with my wolf protector over to his cabin so he could collect some of his things.

Caleb travelled in his wolf form, so he could quickly dart into the trees if one of Margaret’s other residents walked past. I kept staring at his glossy red and grey coat, unable to believe it was really Caleb beneath that fur.

Inside his cabin, Caleb transformed into his human form again. His naked body moved through the cluttered space, collecting up clothes and supplies into a black backpack. The place was identical to mine, except that there was a hideous chaise-lounge instead of the chintz chair, and Caleb’s kitchen was a mess of dirty dishes and buzzing flies.

I sat on the edge of his bed and waited, my nostrils breathing in the heady scent of him that clung to the cabin. An image of Caleb’s naked legs dangling over the side of my bed danced across my vision.

How am I going to survive with this guy living in my space? How are we not going to end up in bed together – an event that, as much as my body wants to deny it, would be a bad, bad idea?

I was just going to have to be strong. Strong and bold, like Nancy said.

“All set.” Caleb slung the rucksack over his shoulder. He was wearing dark jeans and a brown work shirt that made his hair look even more red and wild.

“Won’t you need your mattress?” I pointed to the thin mattress sitting on his bed.

“What for?”

“For sleeping on. The floor is going to be pretty uncomfortable without it.”

“I’m still hoping I’ll be able to convince you to share the bed.” He raised on eyebrow, and flashed me that wicked grin. “Kidding. I’ll abide by your rules. I just don’t plan on doing much sleeping.”

“That’s awfully presumptuous of you.”

“‘Presumption’ is my middle name.”

“Bring the mattress.” I folded my hands across my chest, hoping he didn’t see my nipples standing out through the fabric of my shirt.

Caleb shook his head. “Joking aside, I don’t think you understand that I really don’t need the mattress. I can’t let my guard down for a moment. If I go to sleep, I’ll be leaving you vulnerable.”

I couldn’t believe this. He’d known me for exactly two days, and he was going to forgo sleep just to protect me. A lump rose in my throat. I’d never had anyone try to protect me before.

There were so many times when I’d wished I had someone who I could count on, a friend who would tell the bullies to fuck right off. When all the white kids threw their fruit at me at the fancy school my mother had scrimped and saved to send me to. When a random guy at the pub punched me and called me a stupid black slag because I wouldn’t go home with him. When Debbie Seymour and Susan and all their cronies attacked me in the local press, and everyone in town ignored me or talked about me behind my back …

I’d always been alone – the one black girl in an ocean of white. I couldn’t walk into a room without immediately knowing I was different, and that I was considered lesser than, just because of the colour of my skin. My skin was a weapon to be used against me, and I had no one on my side. And yet here was Caleb. How easily he had stepped into the role of my friend, my protector, and I had let him.

I didn’t want to believe this, didn’t want to trust that I was this lucky. But I couldn’t help the surge of hope welling up inside me, a feeling that this time had nothing to do with how hot he was.

You’re going to get hurt so bad, girl.

“Rosa … hey, Rosa?” Caleb waved his hand in front of my face. I blinked. He must have been waiting for me to say something.

“I was just … concerned about you not sleeping. All creatures, even …” My voice caught on the word. “Werewolves … need to sleep.”

“I can get by on a few hours, until Luke gets here.”

“Who?”

Caleb held up his mobile. “I’ve sent a message to my cousin, informing him of the situation. He’s going to take the first flight back from New York. I just have to survive until he gets here, and then the two of us can take turns protecting you. We may be a small pack, but we look after our own.”

Great, there was going to be two of them in my cabin.

“I’m not one of you, though. And I’ve never met this Luke.”

“You’re in this, babe, which means you’re one of us. You’re part of the pack, as far as I’m concerned.”

Part of the pack. I’d never been a part of anything before, unless I counted the Women’s Society at university, but those girls were way too intense for me. They wanted to protest something new every week, but I didn’t want my face all over the school newspaper. That would’ve made it even less likely I’d find friends. I dropped out of the Women’s Society after one semester.

“And you’ll like Luke,” Caleb was saying. “He reads a lot, mostly science fiction. Just don’t get him started on Heinlein, or you won’t get any sleep, either. Right.” Caleb patted the bag on his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

Back at my place, Caleb dumped his rucksack beside my bed, and arranged his cans of beans and stew on the bench in the kitchen. I watched him move around my tiny cabin, his things making a mark on the space that was supposed to be just mine. For some reason, it didn’t make me nearly as upset as I’d expected it to. In fact, seeing his bag on the floor and his razor on the windowsill beside my toothpaste was kind of … exciting.

Caleb glanced at his watch. “You’d better get to work, if you want to get a few hours of writing in before I’m allowed to talk your ear off again.”

“Like that’s going to happen.”

“I promised, remember?” Caleb held his fingers to his lips. “As quiet as a mouse. Just pretend I’m not here.”

Right, sure. How was I going to pretend an enormous, delicious man wasn’t at this very moment occupying my very tiny cabin?

“Fine.” I sat down at my desk, and flipped open my laptop. Caleb flopped down on the bed, one leg crossed casually over his bent knee. He pulled out his phone, turned it sideways, and opened some loud, shooting game.

I turned back to my computer, taking a few deep breaths and trying to force out all the weird conflicting feelings swirling around in my head. This wasn’t what I imagined when I dreamed about my writing cabin in the woods – that right behind me the world’s hottest man would be playing some obnoxious, beeping game on his phone. But I had come here to write, and if I didn’t get started, that meant the werewolves – and by extension, all of Old Garsmouth – had won.

And that wasn’t an option.

I opened my novel file, and placed my fingers over the keys. I sucked in a deep breath, and closed my eyes, taking myself back to Old Garsmouth, to the night I drove around the corner of my street and saw the sky alight with orange flame as my precious house burned down with my beloved Lennox inside …

“Yeehaw!” Caleb whooped from behind me.

“Could you keep it down, just a little?” I snapped, my fingers frozen over the keys. “Some of us are trying to work.”

Caleb grunted a reply. I gritted my teeth, and forced my fingers to type a sentence, just to prove that I could do it.

There. It wasn’t exactly Pulitzer material, but I could edit it later. I’d started. I was doing this.

My fingers started to move faster. With just a few sentences I was back there, back in that horrible place where the local paper had run stories about how I was going to hell, where people spat on me in the street, where I’d watched the giant plume of smoke devour the little cottage I’d worked so hard to buy.

No, no, no. I deleted the last paragraph. That wasn’t the story I was writing. There wasn’t a sexy kitten-saving firefighter, or a hot best friend waiting to swoop in and rescue the heroine. She had to do all the rescuing herself. That was the whole point. That was the story I was destined to tell.

Dammit. Caleb was getting inside my head more than I realised.

I forced my way through the rest of the scene, recalling all the details of the fire, and adding in a crowd that stood at the end of the street, jeering and hurling racial abuse. I had to delete a second paragraph where the hot fireman showed up again and threatened to blast them with his hose if they didn’t go away. But apart from that small diversion, my fingers flew over the keys, and the world outside faded away as the words tumbled out.

This was it. This was exactly what I wanted. My rustic writing cabin in the woods, where I could be completely alone with my characters.

“Take that, you filthy space pirates!”

Alone, that is, except for my roguishly handsome werewolf protector.

* * *

Sometime later, I emerged from Nellie’s world, brought back by the smell of something hot and delicious happening behind me. A plate clattered on the desk beside me.

“Dinner, ma’am,” Caleb intoned in a posh voice. I peered at my plate. He’d presented me with a perfectly seared steak, a side of crispy-skinned garlic potatoes, and steamed green beans. Beside the plate, he’d placed a glass of red wine.

“It’s dinnertime already?” I rubbed my eyes. Outside the window, it was already dark. No wonder I was having trouble reading the screen.

“Oh yes. You’ve barely lifted your head all day.” He grinned. “I tried to interrupt you to give you a cup of tea, and you grunted at me.”

“I didn’t!” I had no recollection of that.

“You did. A very sexy little grunt it was, too. I’ve been debating whether to interrupt you for the last ten minutes, but I figure even Stephen King himself has to stop for dinner.”

My first instinct was to admonish him for choosing yet another old, white, male writer. But the smell of the food wafted across my nostrils, and my stomach rumbled. “This looks delicious,” I said, turning around to accept the glass of wine he handed me.

As I did, my eyes caught the scene in the kitchen. It was a bomb site. Oil stains splattered across the element. Dirty dishes were stacked on both sides of the sink. There were garlic peelings scattered across the floor, and a giant smear of … something … up the wall and across the ceiling.

“What happened?” I cried out. How had all this chaos ensued and I hadn’t even noticed?

Caleb glanced over his shoulder at the carnage. He shrugged. “I’ll clean up,” he said, as if it was no big deal.

“That’s right.” I bit into a potato. “You will.”

Caleb held out his own glass of wine. “To new roommates, and sexy grunts.”

Oh, for Chrissake. “To new roommates, and not getting my throat torn out by the werewolf mafia.”

We clinked glasses, and I couldn’t help but smile as I watched Caleb eat with gusto, balancing his plate on his enormous thigh and gulping at his wine like he’d just come out of the desert.

I hadn’t smiled this much since … well, since Sam started paying attention to me. Ever since, my life had spiralled into a nightmare worthy of a literary novel, which, funnily enough, was exactly what I was writing.

Nancy hated my novel idea. “I’d rather see you write something that lifted you up,” she said, twirling her pen through the ends of her hair. Nancy’s hair was similar to mine, but somehow she managed to make the ringlets bounce and glisten. Mine was just a giant frizzy mess. I wanted to ask her for tips, but ours wasn’t a relationship where I was allowed to ask questions, not even about hairdressing. “Do you really want to dwell in the horror of what happened? Do you think that fulfilling your revenge fantasies on paper will give you closure? You’re incredibly funny, Rosa. Funny and clever. Why don’t you write a comedy?”

I’d scoffed at the idea, but now the conversation came back to me. Why didn’t I write a comedy?

Because the first rule of writing was ‘Write what you know,’ and there was nothing funny about someone burning down my house because my skin was a different colour. And now I could add “wanted by the werewolf mafia” to that list.

Despite the absurdity and very real danger of my current situation, I was actually enjoying Caleb’s company, especially all our flirting. The flirting had been the fun part about being with Sam, too – him stopping by the office under some pretence, leaning over my desk, his bright green eyes dancing as he complimented my dress or casually discussed what he’d like to do to me when we next had the chance to share a hotel room.

It had been so much fun to feel adored, until it all went horrifically wrong. Until I found out who he was – the town mayor, a man with a wife and two young girls at home.

But Caleb’s not the mayor. He doesn’t seem to have any family apart from this cousin. So far, everything he’s told you has turned out to be true.

Caleb was exactly the kind of guy I would fall for … if only he wasn’t white. I couldn’t go through that again. It didn’t matter that he was different from Sam. It mattered that I couldn’t deal with anything like that right now, and probably never again.

While Caleb bustled around, dumping dishes in the sink and wiping furiously at the walls, I leaned back in the uncomfortable chair with a book. I was just settling into the latest Colson Whitehead novel, when my phone beeped.

I picked it up, expecting to see my mother’s name flash across the screen. I didn’t get many messages these days.

Instead, the SMS had come from an unknown number. I opened it up.

My phone clattered from my hand. Blood rushed to my head, and my dry tongue froze to the roof of my mouth. How had the werewolves got my phone number?

“What happened?” Caleb was at my side in an instant. “Rosa, answer me!”

I know who you are, you black bitch … black bitch …

“It’s nothing.” I passed him the phone. “Your werewolf friends sent me this text.”

Caleb’s face changed, his expression darkening as his eyes flicked over the message. “Those fucking bastards,” he hissed.

“It’s fine, Caleb. I’ll just ignore it. I’m used to it—” This was the third phone I’d had since the fire. The Old Garsmouth lynching mob were pretty adamant that they would force me to leave however they could, and Susan never had any problem passing out my personal details.

But Caleb was already calling the number. “It just clicked straight to voicemail,” he said. He snarled into the phone. “Listen, Angus, you son of a bitch. I already said I wasn’t going to be part of your stupid fucking turf war any longer. If you lay a finger on Rosa, neither you, nor Douglas, nor the entire fuckin’ Maclean clan will be safe. Don’t fucking contact this number again.”

He hung up, and dropped the phone on the table. “There. That should stop them.”

I reached out and grabbed his arm. When my skin met his, the strange zinging pulse darted through my veins. “Thank you,” I said, my voice cracking. Tears sprung in the corners of my eyes. I looked away, blinking rapidly. I wasn’t going to cry. That was stupid. All Caleb had done was leave a screaming message on someone’s phone. That’s all. If anything, he was overreacting. The message wasn’t even that offensive, when compared with some of the insults others had thrown at me.

It was just him, sticking up for me, trying to protect me. I’d always had to look out for myself, and I’d never known until I’d met him how good it felt to have someone I could count on, someone who believed I was worth fighting for.

“Hey, don’t mention it.” Caleb’s voice was hoarse, gravelly. He leaned forward, his face only inches from mine. His cheekbones stood out in high relief, sharp enough to cut glass. “Rosa, you okay in there?”

The urge to kiss him overtook me. I forgot everything, who he really was, what he was doing here, my promise to never go for a white guy again. Be bold, Nancy’s voice echoed in my head.

I leaned forward, pressing my lips against his.

He responded immediately, pressing himself against me. He took control, teasing my lips apart, slipping his tongue inside mine. Fire leapt through my veins as the electricity that had been dragging us together for the last two days shot a fully-fledged jolt right through my system.

Caleb’s hands reached up, his fingers tangling in my hair. I ran my own hands across his cheeks, deepening the kiss as I explored the beautiful structure of his face. His skin seemed to sizzle under my touch, as though the strange energy had wrapped itself tight around us, binding us together.

Caleb’s hands moved down my shoulders, over my arms, his fingers brushing the edges of my breasts. I moaned against his tongue as my body flared with heat, leaning forward so he could—

“Yoohoo.” Someone rapped on the door. “Anyone inside?”

Caleb and I sprung apart. His knee banged the desk, and my wineglass toppled over the side, crashing to the floor. Red wine sloshed across the wood.

“I’ll clean this up,” Caleb mumbled, grabbing for a sponge. I nodded, my heart pounding against my chest. “You get the door.”

“Yoooooowhoooo, Rosa?” Ruth tapped her nails against the window.

“Hi, Ruth.” I flung open the door, my cheeks burning with heat. How much had she seen through the window? “Wh-wh-what brings you out here at this time of the night?”

“I hope it’s not too late in the evening, but I like to walk in the forest when the nights are warm like this. I was going to drop your mail in the box, but then I saw your light on and thought I’d just deliver it in person and see how you were getting on.” She held up a couple of letters and a book catalogue.

“Oh, I’m great. Thanks.” I took the mail from her, noticing my lawyer’s letterhead on one of the envelopes. It could be about the investigation.

“You’re welcome, dear. Hello, Caleb.” She gave him a wave.

“Hey, Margaret.” Caleb smiled back. “It will be a couple of days before I can get to the wood-cutting, I’m sorry. I’ve had some other work come up.”

“That’s fine, dear.” Margaret grabbed the doorframe. “I’ll be on my way then.”

“No!” I dropped the letters on my laptop, slamming down the lid. If Margaret went, I’d have to face Caleb, and that kiss … and since I was clearly out of mind to even consider it, I needed time to work up the fortitude to refuse him. “I mean, why don’t you stay for a glass of wine? Caleb and I were just talking about Crookshollow’s history. Some of the legends about this place are just crazy. I’m sure you know a few.”

Caleb looked at me, his blue eyes blazing. I didn’t blame him – his kiss still burned on my lips, and I wanted nothing more than to pick up where we’d left off, when it was about to become something more … but Margaret’s arrival had shocked me out of my stupor. I had to resist, before we took things too far. I couldn’t believe I was inviting a chaperone to keep us off each other, but I needed the distraction. The energy still hummed through my veins. I couldn’t trust myself to be alone with him right now.

“Oh, alright then.” Margaret settled herself into the chair by the fire. “How about I’ll tell you about my fourth husband, god rest him, who used to be the caretaker for a vampire.”

“Sounds perfect,” I said, handing Margaret a glass of wine. I thought for a moment, then poured myself another glass, and raised it to my lips. Across the room, Caleb’s eyes burned into mine, his mouth a silent question. Why?

I’m sorry, Caleb, but this is for your own good. I know you can sense some werewolf pheromone on me, and it’s making you think with your dick instead of your head. But you and I, we’re too different. We’re never going to work, and the sooner you realise it, the better off we’ll both be.

I believed that, truly. But as Margaret chattered on and Caleb’s eyes bore into me from across the room, an incredible sadness washed over me. Why was it that the things I wanted most were always things that could never be?