"You can open your eyes now," Leyla says.

Slowly, I remove my hands from my eyes and glance around the room. Satisfied that Blake and Thomas have gone to put on some clothes, I finally relax a little.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to that," I murmur.

Leyla laughs. "I thought the same at first, but over time, you will. It's all just skin."

My face heats. Easy for her to say. She's not the one with her naked mate standing meters away from her.

It takes all my effort to shove that image of his bare chest out of my mind. Almost as much effort as it took to cover my eyes before they dared travel lower.

"I mean, why can't it work like the movies? Hasn't someone invented some super stretchy material, or clothes that vanish when you shift?" I ask.

"Unfortunately," Leyla says, giggling, "real life isn't like the movies."

"Well, werewolves apparently exist," I say. "So clearly anything is possible."

Blake re-emerges first, fully dressed. I can't help raking my eyes over his body. His sweater hides his biceps so well. They looked double the size when he was naked.

"Clover," he says.

I warm, realizing he's watching me. He towers over me and Leyla, his expression still angry. Our eyes meet and he softens a fraction.

"You need to get back to training," he continues.

I frown. "What? We're just going to pretend that never happened?"

His jaw clenches and he looks away. "Your training is what's most important right now."

"You heard the Alpha," Thomas teases, emerging from the hallway. He's pulled on a t-shirt and sweatpants, and he crosses the room to stand next to Leyla.

He looks down at her. He's so tall and she's so tiny, that she barely comes up to his chest.

"You alright?" he asks.

She nods and sends Blake a wary look. "Who were those wolves? What did they want?"

Blake stares back at her, then glances at me. I watch him, waiting for an answer. He sighs, giving in.

"Newbies," he says. "You know how teenagers are. They can't control their instincts."

"And their instincts told them to come here?" I ask.

Blake nods. His piercing eyes drill into mine, then flicker down to that silver rope that connects us.

"Some of the pack don't want more Omegas," he says vaguely. His eyes roam down, over my body, then flick back up to mine. "Even more reason to get back to training. You need to be able to defend yourself."

"Is it safe to go back out there?" Leyla asks.

Blake nods curtly. "They won't be back. If they have a problem with the pack rules, they can take it up with me at the next pack dinner."

His icy blue eyes land on me again and a shiver runs through me. He speaks so confidently. A part of me can't believe he would go this far to protect me.

I swallow drily. No. This isn't about me. This is about Leyla and Thomas too. I'm not the only Omega here.

"Let's go, then. Sparring. Me and you, Clover," Thomas says, moving towards the cabin door.

I groan. "Seriously?"

"You heard the Alpha. You need to learn how to defend yourself against scary wolves." He smiles, lifting a hand and curling it like a claw. "Like me."

"Fine," I say, forcing myself to join him. "But I'm really going to need a cheeseburger after this. Maybe two."

"If I see a cheeseburger in tonight's hunt, I'll be sure to grab it for you," he replies.

I sigh. I can't even remember the last time I had a cheeseburger. "It was worth a shot."

My muscles practically creak as I head for the door. Every fiber of my being cries at the sight of the grass outside—the promise of more training—but I force myself to move anyway.

Sore muscles are better than dying at the next full moon. Probably. I'm still a little undecided.

"Take it easy," Blake calls out suddenly. I turn, realizing he's seated himself at the kitchen table with a perfect view of the front of the cabin.

"Oh, so now you want us to take it easy?" Thomas scoffs.

"Her muscles are still recovering," Blake replies. His eyes flicker over my legs. It takes me a second, but I realize he can feel my muscle pain.

"Maybe we should just cancel for today?" I try.

He meets my eye and I think maybe, just maybe, his lips tilt a little in a ghost of a smirk.

"Nice try," he says. "Not happening."

Simmering in annoyance, I turn and head out the door, but I can't help the smile that threatens to tug on my lips.

***

I spend the rest of the day training, until the sun goes down. No exaggeration. If this is Blake's idea of taking it easy, I have no clue what an intensive training session would look like.

"I'm sure I'm stretched enough," I complain in the midst of a hamstring stretch. "I've been doing this for hours."

Leyla sends me a pointed look. "Stretched enough for your muscles to change shape and bones to bend on the full moon?"

I frown. "Okay, maybe I could use a few more minutes."

She smiles at me, watching as I get back into position. Honestly, stretching isn't so bad. I definitely prefer it over the sit-ups Thomas makes me do.

It's just the boringness of it all. When I picture werewolf training, yoga isn't exactly what comes to mind.

"Dinner," a gruff voice says from behind us.

We both turn to see Blake walking from the woods, two brown paper bags in hand.

"Dinner?" I echo, but he doesn't stop. He strides right past us and into the cabin, leaving the door open for us to follow.

Leyla blinks at me. "Did you see him leave the cabin?"

I shake my head. "I must have been too busy doing my thousandth set of burpees."

She laughs and pulls herself to her feet before offering me a hand. "Well, I'm not complaining."

I take her hand and she hauls me up. It almost surprises me how much strength she has in those little arms, but then I remember she's a werewolf. Even if she's on the smaller side, she's stronger than I am.

I dust bits of grass off my legs and follow Leyla, heading for the cabin.

The warmth hits me immediately, just from stepping out of the cold wind. I rub the goosebumps from my arms and look around the kitchen.

"So," I say, grinning, "what's for dinner?"

Blake doesn't reply. He only dumps the paper bags onto the kitchen table.

"Eat," he says.

I frown at the obvious take-out bags, then back over his fully clothed body—no shifting, then.

"Where did you get this from?" I ask.

"Does it matter?" he grumbles.

He's lucky I'm hungry. I ignore his bad conversation skills and instead beeline for the delicious-smelling bag.

"He's not much of a conversationalist," Thomas chirps from the edge of the kitchen. He leans against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. "Just be glad he brought you food."

I laugh, pulling out the brown cardboard boxes from inside the bags.

"What is all this?" I mutter. I place them onto the table and open the one closest to me.

I gasp, spinning towards Blake. He doesn't meet my eye, but I grin widely anyway.

"You didn't," I say.

"He got you a cheeseburger?" Leyla asks, glancing around me.

I nod. "He got me a cheeseburger!"

"It's not a big deal," Blake finally says, looking between Leyla and Thomas. "Are you two going out for your hunt or what?"

Somehow, his blatant attempt at changing the subject works.

"I guess so," Thomas says, looking at Leyla for approval.

I frown at them, temporarily forgetting my growling stomach. "Hunt?"

Leyla nods sheepishly. "We get a few days a month to hunt, just us Omegas."

"Only a few days?"

She glances away and lets out an awkward little chuckle. "The others don't like us intruding on pack hunts. Hey! Maybe you can join us next month."

"Sounds fun," I say, smiling. I can't imagine running through the woods, chasing some poor prey, but that all might change when I shift for the first time.

All this talk about wolf instincts, I wonder what my instincts will tell me when the time comes.

"She's not hunting anytime soon," Blake cuts in. He steps forward and nods towards the door. "You'd better get going."

"Wait, so all this food is for me?" I ask, realizing what's happening.

Leyla smiles, her eyes flickering up to Blake, then back to me. "Well, not just you."

"We'd better leave you two alone," Thomas adds, sending me a snide smile. He exchanges a look with Leyla that has them both nearly bursting with laughter.

"Happy date night," Leyla sings.

I'm so struck by her words that I don't even get to reply until they're gone. The cabin door swings shut, and the silence hits me.

It's just me and Blake tonight.

I take a deep breath and turn, plastering a smile on my face.

"Well, I guess it's just us," I say.

He looks at me from across the room. He's moved so far away that he's practically glued to the kitchen wall.

"Or maybe just me," I mutter to myself. I pull open the rest of the take-out boxes and take a seat. "Come on," I say, gesturing at all the food. "I don't bite. Yet. Maybe next month, I will."

He doesn't laugh at my joke. He doesn't even smile.

"I'm just joking," I say, in case it wasn't obvious.

Blake only stares at me. I'm starting to think growing up in the woods like this hasn't done wonders for his social skills.

Well, I'm not going to let an awkward conversation kill my dinner. I pick up my cheeseburger, practically drooling, and start devouring it.

It's exactly what I've been dreaming of. All greasy, cheesy goodness in a bun. Even better, it's still warm.

"God," I say between bites. "I haven't eaten like this in years. This cabin is like paradise."

"No wonder you're so skinny," Blake mumbles.

I look down at myself. I wasn't always this skinny, but ever since Bianca shoved herself into my dad's life, I guess I haven't been eating as much as I used to.

And ever since I left home... Well, it's hard to find a hot meal when you're on the run.

I take another bite when something heavy lands on my shoulders. I look up to find Blake placing a fur blanket on me. It covers me, a shield from the chill of the cabin.

"You're cold," Blake says. He moves away like I'm fire and he's scared of being burned but takes a seat at the kitchen table.

Sure, it's the farthest one possible from me, but it's progress.

"Of course, I'm cold," I say, tugging the blanket tighter around me. "It's freezing outside. Aren't you cold?"

"Werewolves don't get cold," he says.

I snort. "Of course, they don't."

I take another bite of the burger and almost melt.

"Is it good?" Blake asks, studying my face.

"This is the best burger I've had in my life," I gush. Glancing at the paper bag, I pause. There's no logo on it. "Don't tell me this is from that diner."

For some reason, the thought of the diner we met in makes my stomach flip uneasily. All I can think about is that man with the seedy eyes, the knife in his hand, the way he chased me into the woods.

Worse, the fact that he had my picture...

The scar on my chest aches at the thought.

"No," Blake says quickly. "No, this is from a town nearby. It's through the other side of the woods."

"Oh." I nod slowly, trying to shove that image of the diner and that man out of my mind.

"It's not far. Maybe thirty minutes on foot for a human. Five as a wolf," he continues.

I blink at him. I've never seen him so chatty before, and here he is, carrying the conversation. "You walked?"

His brow twitches. "How did you know?"

"It was pretty obvious," I say, nodding at his clothes.

His lips part and I think for a moment he might actually laugh, but his eyes drop down to the food. He helps himself to a fry and says, "We have some cars and motorcycles over at the main house. But yes, I walked."

I smile to myself. I don't want to make it into a big deal, but the idea of Blake walking through the woods to buy me a cheeseburger—suddenly all those hours of training seem worth it.

I'm reaching for a fry when my finger brushes Blake's, and just like that, our conversation freezes.

Everything freezes.

It's the same feeling I always get when we touch. Like my nerves setting on fire. My stomach feels hot. My blood feels hot. I think I might melt.

I don't know when I became so used to that silver string between us, but I stopped noticing it until now. Now, it flares to life, shining a bright silver; so bright that it illuminates Blake's face.

The pain in my muscles slowly drains away. It's an effort to bring my eyes up to Blake's. I'm scared what I'll find there. Disgust. Rejection.

Instead, his eyes are soft when he looks at me. His fingers lift, sliding up my palm until our hands are pressed together.

It's not comfortable. My hands are cold, and my fingers are coated in salt. Not comfortable at all, and yet it's the best feeling in the world.

Blake releases a long breath, his entire body sagging with it. His eyes flutter shut and that permanent frown on his face fades away.

I want to lean closer. I want more than this. I want more than just our hands touching. I want to touch all of him.

My mind inevitably flickers back to this morning, to Blake's bare chest. His naked body. The heat in my body turns to a boiling point.

All I can think is—it's just us two here. Leyla and Thomas are gone. It's just Blake and me. Me and Blake.

And then Blake rips his hand away.

He staggers back, the chair clattering to the floor as he lurches away from me. He ends up across the kitchen, leaning on one of the counters. His chest rises and falls quickly as he pants for air.

Now, only my face feels hot.

I look away, ignoring the stinging feeling inside of me.

It's stupid. It doesn't make sense. Why should I care if Blake wants to hold hands with me or not? I'm not in kindergarten. I know it's only that wolf-side of me that Leyla talked about. The one that makes me constantly starving.

And yet, as the pain in my muscles return, my stomach has a sinking feeling.

I make myself take another bite of my burger, but this time it tastes bland, and I have to force it down my throat.

"Clover," he says.

The way he says my name makes me shiver. I can't help but look up at him, even if a part of me doesn't want to.

He steps closer, picking up his fallen chair and running a hand through his hair.

"I was wondering," he continues. "Do you need to contact anyone about moving here? Anyone who might file a missing person's report?"

I frown. So, we're just going to pretend he didn't react to my touch like I have the plague?

Honestly, I should expect it by now. My relationship with Blake, it's intangible, driven only by our innate, wolfish need to be close. And until the full moon, Blake won't let that happen.

Sighing, I look away. His question is one I've heard in a million variations while on the run. Every homeless shelter, every motel, every person who has lent me a phone charger; they've all asked me this question before.

I get it. It's strange to see a young girl alone on the streets, but the truth is, there's no one left for me to contact. Bianca made sure of that.

I also know that a wrong response to this question just leads to people worrying, and people worrying usually leads to the cops being called. Which usually just makes everything worse for me.

Bianca and Richard have connections. I learned that a long time ago.

So, I plaster on my usual smile and hope it's reassuring enough to get Blake off my back.

"No. I'm all good," I say. Blake frowns at me, but I keep my smile steady.

"It's okay if you want to tell someone your location," he adds. "It doesn't have to be a secret."

"I'm okay," I say. I glance inside of the next cardboard box and gasp. "You got chicken nuggets too?"

His lips thin as he studies me. I can tell he wants to push it further, but I guess my smile wins out in the end. He nods.

"And mozzarella sticks," he says. He taps on the table, thinking, then adds, "I'm just going to have a shower."

I nod, watching as he turns and heads down the hallway.

I don't relax until I hear the shower turn on, and even then, I'm scared to let my smile drop.