This Dark Wolf (Soul Bitten Shifter #1) - Everly Frost Page 0,84

push back—the same way I wanted to lash out—but he shudders and relaxes beneath me.

For the next ten minutes, we do nothing but lie together and breathe. Our chests rise and fall in unison, deep or shallow, but always in the same rhythm, the same speed.

Slowly, my head begins to clear. The burn recedes a little, but with every space it leaves behind, my former destruction fills it until I sense both sides of us pushing at each other in equal measures. A final struggle—my destruction and his fire—testing each other’s resolve, as if we’re both part of each other, fighting the same battle now.

His breath hitches, just the slightest, and I squeeze his hand tighter, press his palm as hard as I can against my heart, urging him to fight the pain with me. To survive with me.

Until finally… finally… the pain recedes, draining out of me.

I sense the moment he becomes himself again—it’s the same instant that I become myself again.

Deep relief fills me, but I don’t move. I stay right where I am, plastered against him.

His breathing is deep. Even. “We’re equals now, Tessa,” he whispers, his voice ragged. “Our wolves understand each other. We’re melded. Neither one of us can dominate the other.”

He keeps referring to ‘my wolf’ because that’s what he knows—a wolf that has its own needs and wants.

But she isn’t ‘my wolf.’ She’s me.

I understand him. At least the part of him that sees my darkness.

I don’t get up. Understanding him means knowing, instinctively, that this is where I need to stay.

“Sleep now,” I say to him.

His deep breathing tells me he’s already drifting off.

Seconds later, I sink into oblivion.

Chapter Twenty-Two

I’m cramped and stiff when I wake. My arms and legs ache like I ran a marathon and my fingers are numb where I hold Tristan’s hand squished between our bodies. He lies beneath me and me on top of him in exactly the same position that we fell asleep. The shade of light in the room tells me it’s early morning, but that would mean we slept for nearly twenty-four hours straight. It could be the case, judging by how hungry I feel.

Carefully tipping my head back without lifting my body from his, I check Tristan to see if he’s awake.

He’s fast asleep. His free hand rests on my upper back while his arm remains curled around me.

Neither of us has moved.

If he’s normally a restless sleeper, he wasn’t last night.

I find myself matching my breathing with his again, finding it scarily easy.

Our relationship has changed. Yet again. When I first laid eyes on him, he was an aggressor in my life. Then he was my captor. Then he placed me with Helen and gave me a strange sort of freedom. Then he was my captor again.

Now, his presence is as strong as it was before, his power all-encompassing, but it’s a constant simmering burn in my senses instead of an overwhelming wave like it was before.

I’m controlling my reaction to him for the first time since I met him. How much I soak in is up to me and, for a moment, I soak it all in. His body beneath mine, every muscle, the tilt of his head, the growth across his jaw, the lips that are more relaxed in sleep than I’ve ever seen them. Not snarling or growling.

His breathing doesn’t change, but he opens his eyes, his gaze just as fierce, just as crisply green. More than two day’s growth shadows his jaw now and it makes him look wilder than yesterday. His fingers curl into the strands of my hair, brushing my scalp in a way that relaxes me, making me sigh out my next breath.

A faint smile touches his lips. “Good morning, Tessa.”

“Tristan.”

With a groan, he drags his trapped hand upward, taking my arm with him so that I stretch above my head. The movement serves to plaster my breasts against his chest. His smile grows, his eyelids lowering.

If I didn’t know better, I’d say he looks contented.

Testing his resolve to keep a hold of my hand, I tug, gratified when he slowly opens his fist. Drawing my hands down his arms and chest, I arch my back like a cat, stretching out my spine before rising to a sitting position to roll my shoulders and stretch out my neck, swaying side to side to ease the cramps in my back and shoulders.

A quick assessment tells me that my bra is a little torn, but my underwear