There’s something meditative about hard, repetitive work. It was like what Mr. Miyagi taught in The Karate Kid. Sure, chopping wood didn’t teach me anything about fighting techniques, but it still gave me a good workout and let me clear my mind.

And, after my discussion with Frank out front, I needed to clear some of the clutter. If what he’d told me was true, Peter had known about my feelings for Jessica the moment he’d seen us together. He was as aware of my background as any of the other guys. More so, probably. Why had he withheld the information? Just to screw with me?

I grunted as I swung the ax head down, splitting the log into two staves with a single strike.

Did he want to hide the truth, just like my dad had? Make me figure it out on my own? I still resented my old man for hiding the facts from me, still held it against him that he hadn’t put his parents’ contact information in that old letter my mom gave to me when I was old enough. So many questions would have been answered for me. I know I wouldn’t have had a normal life like a human, or anything. But maybe I’d have some kind of grip on who I was, what kind of world I was really from?

It wasn’t Peter’s place to hold that back from me when he saw it coming.

I picked up another log, put it on our chopping stump, and set it up to go. I hefted the ax over my head and brought it down with both hands like a barbarian lumberjack. The thud and the crack of the wood splitting in twain gave me a visceral kind of joy, and I set up another in its place.

Of course, the flip-side of the coin was that Peter might not have felt it his place to tell me. He wasn’t my father, he wasn’t my older brother. He was my pack leader. Maybe, to him, his responsibility to me didn’t extend into my love life.

I picked up the split logs, piling them up in my naked arms, and walked them to the back wall of the house, stacking them with the rest. The cool mountain air blew over my bare skin, feeling wonderful on the layer of sweat that covered my naked, lightly furred chest. I could live like this forever, I realized. Me out here, chopping wood, taking care of the homestead. A beautiful woman, Jessica, inside, waiting for me.

I mean, I’d still cook at times and wouldn’t leave all the chores to my partner. That’d just be stupid. I would hope I’d end up with a woman who didn’t want to be barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen, just making me sandwiches while I did man’s work around the house. That wasn’t my style at all.

But, as far as cooking went, there was something about the alchemy of it and baking that was just totally beguiling to me. Creating a meal from nothing? It seemed more complicated than splitting logs in two or fighting off some biker.

But living out here in a place like this with a woman like Jessica? I could see that. I tossed the staves on the pile, made sure they were stacked properly up against the back of the cabin, and grabbed a pile of unhewn logs before heading back to the chopping stump. I dropped them on the grass next to the axe and placed one on the stump before resuming my chopping.

I just hoped Frank would be able to get Sheriff Peak to do something. That he’d be able to make him shit or get off the pot. Otherwise, we’d be in an all-out shooting war with the Skull and Bones before everything was said and done. And it wouldn’t be them who started it, either. I had no qualms with killing a man. I’d done it plenty of times in Afghanistan.

If it came to protecting my mate, even if she and I weren’t official in any way, shape, form, or fashion? I’d kill Wyatt in a heartbeat. Especially if he didn’t back off. It was the law of the wild out here, sometimes, and I was a wolf. I didn’t need a lawyer to explain the vagaries of kill-or-be-killed to me. I’d seen it, participated in it, lived it. If the Skull and Bones wanted to come at Jess with more force than last time, to try and touch one single hair on her head, I’d come back twice as hard, three times as mean. I’d make them scream for their mommies and daddies before I was done with them.

My ears perked as I heard the front screen door open and close, the quiet thud of feminine feet on hollow deck. I turned around as I wiped the sweat from my brow with my forearm. Jessica came around the corner, a vision of loveliness even in this place of beauty.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Jessica called, her hand held up to shield her eyes from the dying sun. She looked gorgeous, ephemeral like that, with the light seeming to halo her figure.

“Thanks,” I said. “What’re we having?”

“Steak and potatoes.”

“Delicious,” I replied with a wolfish grin. “Let me get cleaned up here and I’ll head in.”

“Want me to start a fire while I wait?” she asked, pointing to the logs as she came closer.

“Don’t have to if you don’t want to,” I said. “I can handle it.”

“I think I can start a fire,” she said, slightly sarcastic. “Or is that not a woman’s work?”

I laughed and leaned down to grab my shirt. “I don’t really think about women’s or men’s work. I think people should just do what they need to do, specifically what they’re good at. And, if they’re not any good, they should try and get better. Is that so wrong?”

She laughed. “No, that’s not wrong at all. Almost feminist, actually.”

“Feminist, huh? Pretty sure I’ve never been called one of those before.”

“Well, I went to college,” she said, putting her hands on her hips, “and I read some books. And you sound like one.”

“Well, I didn’t,” I admitted. “Go to college, I mean. But if you know how to start a fire and you’re not too busy with the steaks, the fireplace is yours, too.”

She grinned. “Okay, I will. You need to do me one favor, though.”

“What’s that?” I asked, pulling my shirt back over my head and straightening the front.

“Could you bring in the wood for me? My poor, weak woman’s arms can’t carry many logs at one time.”

“Yeah,” I agreed with a laugh, “Think I can do that for you.”

She turned and headed back inside with a smile.

Another thing I realized about the benefits of the meditative work was that it helped keep my mind off Jessica. Now, just as she’d left, I felt the need to be close to her stirring inside me again. I wanted—no, needed—her by my side. When she was near me, my blood sang the same way it did when I was on the hunt with the rest of my pack. There just wasn’t any other way things could turn out.

There were just two things wrong with that: she needed to return my feelings, and protocol. I grunted as I put the last of the wood in my arms and headed back around to the front of the cabin. I didn’t know how I was going to make it through these three days without making a move on her, but I knew I should.

I had to.