Riding with the Rejected Wolf : a paranormal BBW romance by Megan Wade

Author:Megan Wade [Wade, Megan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: LA Publishing Pty Ltd
Published: 2024-06-28T00:00:00+00:00

MIKA

Turns out Wolves Can Whittle

I’m not sure at what point I fell asleep, but when I wake up on the couch, I’m wrapped in my soft blanket and I’m alone. No Silas. Sitting up, I stretch my arms above my head, looking out the window at the fading light. Jeez, I’ve slept the day away. But I guess that’s what happens when you finally feel safe—even if safety is with a biker who’s also a wolf.

I pad over to the kitchen, eyes scanning for any sign of Silas. The place is eerily quiet, the kind that makes your skin prickle. On the counter, I spot a note scrawled in messy handwriting:

Had to deal with some club business. Food’s on the stove. Be back soon. S

I can't help but smile at the note, even though it's a little cryptic. ‘Club business’ probably means something straight out of a Sons of Anarchy episode. I shudder. I hope it doesn't involve too much blood…

Lifting the lid of the pot, I peek inside and find an actual meal—stew, maybe? It smells heavenly, and my stomach growls in response.

I ladle myself a bowl, noting how domestic this all feels. It's almost laughable. Me, playing house with a biker wolf. But damn, does it taste good. I sit back down at the table, savoring the warm broth as it slides down my throat.

As I eat, my mind wanders to Silas. The way he holds himself, that fierce protectiveness in his eyes whenever he looks at me. He’s like a grizzled knight, minus the armor but with a roaring Harley instead. And those tattoos—geez, do they tell a story or what? The guy's practically an anthology of badassery.

I’m midway through my bowl when the hair on the back of my neck prickles, and next thing I know, Silas is standing in the doorway. His boots are silent, but his presence? Not so much. It’s like I can feel him whenever he’s near. And I wonder if that’s part of that bond he was talking about earlier.

"Hey," I mutter through a mouthful of stew.

He grins, a lopsided smirk that somehow makes him look even more rugged. "Hey yourself," he replies, striding into the kitchen with that effortless grace that comes from years of dodging trouble. He takes a moment to wash his hands at the sink, the sound of running water punctuating the silence between us.

"So…club business?" I raise an eyebrow, trying to read him.

"Yeah." He shrugs, drying his hands on a towel. "Just had to remind some folks about the importance of keeping their word." There's a glint in his eyes—a mix of amusement and something darker.

I can't help but laugh, though it comes out more like a snort. "You say that like it's a walk in the park. What'd you do, bake them cookies?"

Silas chuckles, low and throaty. "Not quite. More like a friendly chat with some colorful language thrown in." He grabs a bowl from the cupboard and serves himself some of the stew. I watch him move around the kitchen like he owns the place.

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