When I wake up, my head is pounding, and my stomach turns. My arm feels heavy, and I squint my eyes open through my migraine to find Blake lying next to me, my arm pinned under his pillow.

I blink at him for a moment, trying to remember what happened last night, but it's foggy.

I remember sneaking out with Leyla, going to the pack party, and then...

Oh. There was a man. My face turns hot as I remember his body against me. It had felt strange...wrong, but with alcohol flowing through my veins, it was easy to ignore and focus on the pounding of music.

And then, Blake was there.

I look down at his sleeping face and take a moment to appreciate his long lashes and smooth cheekbones. I could spend forever just lying here, watching him.

Except, my head is killing me.

Luckily, my personal cure-all is lying right here next to me.

I shift, sliding closer until my leg presses against his. Almost instantly, my headache fades and the nausea subsides.

He grumbles a little and I freeze. Please don't wake up. I hold my breath, watching as his eyelids flutter, but don't open.

Instead, he moves an inch closer, his arm moving to wrap around my waist. I release a breath of relief, my headache practically vanishing, replaced with pure bliss. Even after lying next to each other all night, his touch still has this effect on me.

"Clover," he murmurs.

My pulse stutters.

I want to hear it again, my name on his raspy, morning voice.

I stay as still as possible, waiting for him to settle back into the mattress. His fingers grip the small of my back, grazing a sliver of skin where my shirt has ridden up.

Just when I think he's about to drift off again, his eyes blink open.

The air is sucked out of my lungs as his icy eyes meet mine. I blink at him, waiting to see if he'll move away like I have the plague, or roll right out of bed to get away from me. Except, he doesn't.

His grip on my back tightens, and he tugs me closer as he fights through a yawn.

"You smell like someone else," he says, his voice thick with sleep.

I frown, unsure how to respond to that. "Sorry?"

He says nothing, just rubs his hand over my back, holding me tight against his chest. Here, Blake's scent is strong, and I realize what he's trying to do—get rid of that stranger's smell on me.

I'm not sure if I should blush or push him away.

"How do you feel?" he asks once he's done rubbing my back.

It takes a second for me to process his words because what? Who is this man and where is my mate?

"Fine," I sputter out. I pause, frowning. "Well, not fine. My head hurts and I think I might puke."

"Hangover," he says sighing. "I don't know what Leyla was thinking, giving you that much to drink."

"She didn't know," I say, defending her.

Blake says nothing, just shuts his eyes and holds me for a few minutes longer. I let him, savoring the feeling of his body so close to mine. I don't want to ruin...whatever this is.

I don't know what changed in him overnight, but I'm not going to question it. I want to stay here, in his arms, for as long as he'll let me.

It's definitely a bonus that this bed is so comfortable. Looking around the room in daylight, it's even bigger than I thought. I can't believe he's been living here by himself.

"Alright," Blake says. His hand slides from my waist and moves up to my forehead. He pushes my hair back and meets my eye. "We'd better get up."

"Why?" I ask. Why can't we just lie here all day, in each other's arms?

"You have training," he replies like it's obvious.

My eyes bulge. "I still have to train? I'm hungover. You said it yourself."

He levels me with a look. "It was your decision to go out drinking last night, knowing you've got training today."

I frown. I guess he's right, but I didn't expect a hangover to feel this horrible.

Despite his words, he doesn't move. With his hand pressed against my forehead, I can feel his calluses and a shard of skin that feels different from the rest.

I reach up, taking his hand and flipping it over to look at his palm. There's still a mark from when he touched the wolfsbane. I frown, gently tracing my thumb over it.

Blake inhales sharply through his teeth.

"Sorry," I say. "Does it still hurt?"

He curves then flexes his fingers. "A little."

"Is it going to scar?" I ask.

He hums. "I don't know how it'll heal. The pack healer gave me a balm for it."

"What works better? A balm or me?" I ask.

Blake turns silent and I have my answer.

Slowly, I lift his hand until my lips brush against the mark on his palm. His fingers turn rigid as I press a gentle kiss against the skin.

Blake swallows. His eyes press shut for a millisecond before he pulls his hand out of mine.

His touch leaves me, and my headache slowly ebbs back, pounding against the front of my head.

"We have to go," he says, his voice tight. He sits up at the edge of the bed, his broad shoulders hunching for a moment before he stands.

"Bathroom's through there," he says, pointing towards a door tucked in the corner of the room. "I'm going to get you some clothes. Anything else you need?"

"A toothbrush?" I suggest.

He nods. "Right. I'll be back."

He shoves a hand through his messy hair, then leaves the room, shutting the bedroom door behind him.

I huff, turning over to bury my face in his pillow.

There he goes again, running away at the first sign of affection. And he has the audacity to call himself my mate. If my touch makes him feel even a fraction of the exhilaration I feel when he touches me, I don't understand why he keeps pulling away.

I wonder if things will change after the full moon. I wonder how they'll change. Will Blake finally accept me? Let me touch him? The wolf inside me stirs at the thought and a fire erupts in my belly.

I groan into the pillow, the sound muffling.

I don't want to get up. I just want to lie here forever—or at least until my headache goes away.

But I already feel guilty enough about sneaking out last night, and I have to get back to the cabin and check on Leyla.

Sighing, I roll out of bed and head for the bathroom. Like the bedroom, the bathroom is massive, with the biggest bathtub I've ever seen on one end. It might as well be a pool.

I remember what Blake said about me smelling like someone else, and before I know it, I'm stripping down to take a quick shower.

Once I'm clean, I wrap myself in a towel. I'm standing in the mirror, braiding my hair, when a knock sounds at the door.

"Clover?" Blake's voice comes.

"One sec!" I exclaim. I fix my towel before opening the door.

Blake stands there, still with his messy hair and wrinkled shirt. His eyes roam down, over my wet collarbones and bare legs. His throat bobs as he swallows before his gaze rips back to mine.

"Here," he says, shoving a stack of folded clothes into my hands. On top is a toothbrush set, a water bottle, and a pack of aspirin.

"Oh," I say, smiling. "Thanks."

"Yeah. Just—I'll get ready in the other bathroom," he says. Before I can say anything else, he spins and practically sprints out of the room.

I stare at the empty room as the bedroom door slams shut behind him. There's the Blake I know.

I get ready quickly. The clothes he found for me are just a pair of lounge shorts and a T-shirt, but they fit better than anything I've got at the cabin.

When I'm done, I take a few minutes to explore his room.

There's a desk pushed against one of the walls with a tall bookshelf beside it. I run my finger over the spines of the books. There's a mix of everything here—Shakespeare, Dickens, even Camus.

Scattered among them are some unfamiliar books, all with some variation of werewolf, or moon goddess in the title. I wish I had the time to flick through all of them.

I move past the shelf to the desk. There are papers scattered here, some covered in numbers. I pick up the one on top, scanning the words across the paper.

Certain phrases jump out to me. Order form. Deer hide. Down payment.

Suddenly, the bedroom door creaks open. I turn as Blake enters the room. He smells like soap and his dark hair is wet. He's dressed in trousers and a T-shirt that hugs his chest. His eyes dip to the paper in my hands.

"Curious?" he asks, lifting a brow.

I warm, dropping the paper back to the table. "No."

"It's okay. You can ask questions," he replies, leaning back against the door. "But I get to ask you back."

I frown. "This feels like a trap."

He shrugs. "I'm not forcing you to do anything."

The way he says it is suspicious. My frown only deepens.

"Okay..." I trail off. I glance back at the paper on the desk. Surely one question wouldn't hurt. "What are these papers?"

"Order forms. Ledgers. Contracts," he says. "For all of the businesses our pack runs."

"Businesses?" I echo.

"We have to make money somehow. Some things we can do ourselves, but other times we need money to buy things for the pack," he explains. He sighs and shakes his head. "But business has been slow lately. Not many people have the money to buy good quality game."

"So that's why you have hunts," I say. It makes sense. Wolves are naturally designed to hunt, and if they can make some money off it, it's two birds with one stone.

"That, and to satisfy the wolf instincts," Blake says, nodding. He pauses, his eyes drilling into me. "My turn."

My heart stutters, but I open my arms. "Ask away."

What's the worst he could ask, anyway?

"Why did that man really chase you into the woods?" Blake asks.

I freeze. "What?"

"You heard me."

"I just don't understand where this is coming from," I say, glancing away. "He was just...disturbed. There was no real reason."

I look back at Blake. He stares at me with his sharp eyes, his lips pressed into a line.

"Really?"

I shrug.

"What did he show you, then?" he asks. "Before you ran off."

I blink and it's like I'm there. The man outside of the diner approaches me. Asks if I'm Clover Davis. Pulls out my freshman year photo.

And then I'm thinking of Bianca. Bianca, who I lived in fear of every day. Bianca, who chased me across the country to get her hands on my inheritance, even after everything she did to me.

Bianca, who would stop at nothing to get it. Who would kill me to get it.

My chest aches with the memory of the knife in my chest. Blake, lifting me into his arms.

I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head.

"I—" I can't get any words out.

In front of me, Blake sighs. He steps closer and rests a hand on my shoulder.

"It's okay," he says. I look up at him and his expression softens. "I want you to tell me, but you don't have to."

"I just..." I trail off, the words dying in my throat. I shake my head. "You've already done so much for me."

He nods slowly and I can see the gears turning in his head. "Just tell me one thing. Are you in any danger?"

I think for a moment. Bianca spent months chasing me across the country, but I was never really in danger. Not until she hired that man at the diner, but Blake took care of that.

And now I'm surrounded by werewolves. There's no way Bianca can touch me here.

Besides, if he knows I'm bringing danger here to the pack, when they already have so many issues... I can't burden him with my past like that. He can already barely stand to be in a room with me.

If I tell him, I could lose more than I have to give.

I shake my head and offer Blake a smile.

"No," I say. "Not anymore."

He nods once, his shoulders sagging. "Good." He glances towards the window, where the sun is high in the sky. "Let's go. You've got some training to do."

***

I lie on the grass, my stomach turning.

"Come on, Clover," Thomas says standing over me. "One more set."

"If I do another burpee, you're going to be cleaning vomit from your shoes," I say.

He frowns. "I told you not to sneak out. I'm lucky Blake didn't bite my head off."

"We thought we'd make it back in time," Leyla says, sitting cross-legged in the grass beside me. She looks at me and pouts. "I'm sorry again, Clover. I didn't realize wolf-brewed alcohol is that strong."

"It's fine," I say. I shut my eyes, the sun only making my head pound worse. "I had fun, for what it's worth."

"Enough talking!" Blake shouts from the porch. "Get to work!"

I groan, pressing my palms over my eyelids. "Leave me alone."

"She's too sick, Blake," Leyla says.

"That's called the consequences of her actions," he replies. "Do you want to live through the full moon or not?"

"I'm really debating it right now," I say.

There's a pause until someone grasps my wrist and tugs my hand away. I blink my eyes open to find Blake squatting beside me. He gives me a tired look.

"Not funny," he says.

He doesn't release my wrist, and my headache starts to fade. I sigh in relief when his other hand comes to rest on my forehead.

"Feel better?" he asks.

I can't help the soft smile that pulls at my lips. I melt into his warm touch, subconsciously leaning into it.

"Give it a minute," I say.

"Ah, the benefits of having a mate," Thomas says, watching us.

My face warms. It's embarrassing being watched like this, thirsting over Blake's touch, but I stay where I am. It feels too good, and I'm not that embarrassed.

"It's not the only benefit," Leyla says, smirking.

"Shut it, you two," Blake snaps.

"Do you think the pros outweigh the cons?" Thomas asks, ignoring him.

I frown. "What are the cons?"

"Like losing your mind whenever your mate faces the smallest inconvenience," he replies.

"Or needing to be close to your mate, like, all the time," Leyla adds.

"That doesn't sound like us," I remark, avoiding Blake's eye.

Thomas snorts and exchanges a look with Leyla. "Just wait until you're a full-fledged werewolf. You'll see."

"Like you know anything about it," Leyla says, laughing.

"I can imagine!" Thomas retorts. He sighs and shakes his head. "I wish I had a mate."

"You'll find yours one day," Leyla chirps.

"If I'm lucky," he grumbles.

"Actually, the statistic is one in five wolves find their mate," she points out. Her brow furrows. "Although, it's probably a lot lower for Omegas that aren't allowed near the pack."

"Hey, could be a human," Thomas says, wiggling his brows. "Like a certain someone here."

"Almost definitely not," Leyla says. "The chances of your mate being human is less than one percent, and the chances of finding them... Well, let's just say that you two are an anomaly."

I frown at her words. The real anomaly here is that I got stuck with a mate who refuses to touch me.

"I didn't even know that," Blake says, turning to her.

Leyla shrugs. "I've read every book you brought for us. Not much to do in this cabin all day. Every day. For two years."

Blake sighs, hurt flashing across his face. Almost instantly, that look is gone, replaced by his usual, steely expression. He lifts his hands from me, and I pout.

"Come on," he says. "Training's not over."

My headache is still there, but it's a lot better than it was before. I guess I can live with that.

Thomas stands in front of me, watching as I go through my usual sets of exercises. Then, it's Leyla's turn as she guides me through stretches.

This is the most important part of training. My muscles need to be ready to be stretched to their limit on the full moon.

When I'm done and both my trainers have gone inside the cabin, Blake stands, hovering over me on the grass.

I forgot he was here. Usually, he comes and goes during my training sessions, busy with his usual Alpha duties.

Today, he stuck around to watch me the entire time.

"Good work," he says, nodding at me.

"You really think so?" I ask. It's rare for him to compliment me like this.

"Don't get excited," he says. "There's only a week and a half left until the full moon. You still have a long way to go."

"Right," I mutter.

At that, he turns towards the cabin. I scramble to my feet. I don't want him to go.

It's strange. The more time we spend together, the harder it is to be apart. And after spending almost all day and night together, the thought of him leaving sends a stabbing pain through my chest.

Maybe Thomas was onto something with the cons of having a mate.

"Wait!" I cry out before he can leave. Blake pauses, turning back to face me. "I'm sorry for sneaking out last night."

He blinks, then shakes his head. "Don't be sorry. I may have gone a little overboard with the restrictions."

"You haven't," I say. If he thinks living here is restrictive, he clearly knows nothing about what my life was like living with Bianca.

I have a lot more freedom living in this cabin than I did back home. With Bianca's always changing rules, I could never relax. Some days, even grabbing a glass of water from the tap wound up with me locked in my room with a stinging pain across my face.

"It's just, some of the pack members aren't too happy about having Omegas around," Blake explains. "Like I said, business is slow. They don't want more mouths to feed."

"I'd be happy to help," I say. "I'm pretty good at sewing clothes and cleaning. I could even cook for the pack."

"No," Blake snaps. I blink at him with wide eyes, and he sighs. "No, Clover. I'll sort it out, okay? You focus on your training for now, and after the full moon, I'll take you to a party myself."

My pulse spikes. Is he being serious? Before I can ask, he steps towards the cabin. Pauses. Hesitates.

"Come on," he says. "Let's eat dinner."

He reaches a hand towards me.

I freeze. It's funny. My first thought is, why is he reaching out like that? But then I meet his eyes and realize, he's reaching for me.

I step forward, placing my hand in his. His fingers tighten around mine and he turns, leading me inside.

My heart pounds against my ribcage the entire time.

With just over a week until the full moon, hope starts to blossom within me. Maybe things will change when I'm a werewolf.

But first, I need to survive.