entitled, probably the way your father did about your mother since he was the beta in the pack. Don’t you feel differently about yourself?”
He nodded slowly. Lakota was still struggling with coming to terms with his true nature, but there was something in his expression I hadn’t seen the night before—relief.
“Just promise me something,” I said.
“What’s that?”
“Promise me you won’t keep running from sex.”
His blue eyes twinkled. “I’ve never met a female like you before.”
Female. Sometimes he used that word interchangeably with woman. Chitahs often used it as a term of endearment. It wasn’t something I was used to hearing, but I liked it every time he said it.
“I’m serious, Lakota. I don’t want it to hold you back. Promise me the next time you meet someone, you won’t hold back.”
“Does that include maid service?”
I gave him a look of reproach.
His eyebrows drew together, and he pressed his forehead against mine. “You have my word. The next woman who makes my heart beat fast, I’ll invite her to my bed.”
I began to regret pushing him, but it was the right thing to do. Wolves in a pack could smell an Achilles’ heel, and they would challenge him as a second-in-command. Lakota deserved a better future than that.
He drew back and swept my hair away from my face. “Can we talk about something else? We don’t have much time left together.” His thumb grazed along my cheek before he wrapped his arm around me again. This time there was nothing sexual in his touch. It was friendly and tender.
I wanted to tell him to keep holding me like that. Once we let go and got out of that bed, we might not see each other again for a long time. We would go back to being friends who ran into each other at the occasional peace party whenever he came into town. Why that mattered, I wasn’t sure.
“Jelly sandwiches for breakfast?” I asked.
When he smiled, his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Something better.”
And with that, our tender moment crumbled away as he rolled over and sat up. The paper bag rustled, then Lakota held out something for me—a package of cinnamon donuts.
“I remember you buying these once when I drove you and Hope to the gas station to buy ice cream.”
Once? He remembers something I ate once a million years ago? And the crazy thing was I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d eaten those donuts.
I placed the package on my chest and ripped it open, crumbs scattering as I shoved one into my mouth. They were a little stale, but he’d probably picked up the groceries at a nearby convenience store.
Lakota stood up, his jeans unbuttoned but the zipper still fastened. He moseyed into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Meanwhile, I continued eating donuts and pondered how I was going to win over Shikoba.
The water shut off sooner than I’d expected. Lakota sauntered into the room in his jeans, his chest glistening. He hadn’t bothered to dry off, and his hair was dripping wet.
“What are you thinking?” I asked around a mouthful of donut.
He lifted his white T-shirt off the floor and put it on. It fit snugly and clung to his body as it soaked up the water. “I’m wondering if we’re going to argue this morning.”
“Over what?”
He flipped his hair out from inside the collar. “I think we both know.”
Maybe it wasn’t worth bringing up. I had no intention of leaving until I spoke with Shikoba one last time, and Lakota knew there was no way he could stop me. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try.
When he turned a sharp eye toward my donuts, I became self-conscious about the mess I’d made. Then again, maybe he was taking another gander at how I didn’t quite measure up in the breast department. They looked even flatter when I was lying down.
“Let me have one of those,” he said.
I felt my cheeks flush, confused for only a nanosecond that he was asking for a donut. Lakota rounded the bed, shoved a donut into his mouth, and turned his attention to a rather uninspiring painting on the wall of a deer standing in the woods.
“Why do you care so much about my sex life?” he asked, still positioned with his back to me.
Setting the donuts aside, I sat up. “Well, you cared enough to share it with me. I don’t know. It’s something everyone should experience, and the reasons you chose for avoiding it aren’t worthy