Chapter 5. Mine

Tessa’s POV

Then twenty years of common sense come back all at once, and I rip my hand out of his. “Are you out of your mind?”

He snorts. “Do you or do you not want Cole to believe we’re dating?”

My jaw drops. “What does that have to do with my lips?”

He shakes his head like I’m hopeless. “What do you think relationships are, Lucky? Study groups? Business meetings?” He leans closer, and I lean back on instinct, my heart racing. “I’m a wolf. Wolves are physical. And I’m the most physical of all. Cole knows that better than anyone. If he sees me with you and I’m not all over you, he’ll know it’s fake in about four seconds.”

I bite my lip and look away.

Maybe I should find someone else for this. Someone less ridiculous. Someone who doesn’t make my body react in ways I don’t understand. Because right now, I’m actually considering kissing him. Him, of all people.

No.

I cross my arms. “This is fake dating, not a game. And I’m not kissing you.”

He leans back, unbothered. “Okay. Then what’s your plan when we’re out? Bars. My games. The Night Circuit.”

I blink. “Wait. Bars? I have to go to bars with you?”

“That’s what girlfriends do.”

My stomach turns at the thought of his teammates, a whole pack of loud, cocky wolves who can hear my heartbeat from across a room.

“Trust me,” he says, with that maddening grin. “If you walk into the Den on my arm on Friday, Cole will lose his mind. You’ve got to do things with me you never did with him, or he won’t buy it.”

I narrow my eyes. “And what exactly happens at the Den?”

“We have fun. I buy you a drink. I tell my entire team you’re mine.” His grin widens. “Oh, and fair warning? Half the she-wolves there will want to rip your throat out.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t deny it makes sense. Cole knows I hate loud places. If he hears I walked into the Den with Wyatt Cooper, he’ll lose it.

“Fine,” I mutter. “I’ll go.”

“And the Circuit.”

“I can’t run, Wyatt. In case you forgot, I don’t have a wolf.”

“Then we walk the outer trail. Together.” He shrugs. “Nobody’s ever walked the outer trail with the Pendant heir. That’s the point.”

“Fine.”

“And you’ll wear my jacket.”

“That’s already in the rules.” I give him a tight nod. “But no kissing. If you want that, call the redhead.”

“Why don’t you want to kiss me?” His lips curve. “Scared you’re bad at it?”

I scowl. “I’m a great kisser.”

“Yeah?” He leans in, close enough for my breath to catch. “Then prove it.”

“Why do I have to prove anything to you?” My palms are slick with sweat. “I know I’m a good kisser. End of story.”

He tilts his head. “I see fear in your eyes. Don’t worry. I get it. A lot of people freeze up when—”

“Fine!” It rips out of me before I can stop it. “Yes. Let’s do it.”

For one second, his eyes widen. Then something softer melts through the shock.

“You’re sure?” he asks quietly. “Rule three. Only if you say yes.”

I hadn’t expected that. I hadn’t expected him to remember.

“I said yes.”

His green eyes darken.

He leans in. My hand lifts almost on its own, and my thumb traces his jaw. I can see his pulse jumping in his throat.

I press my lips to his.

He tastes faintly of beer. His hand slides into my hair, careful at first, then not careful at all, and a sound comes out of me that I’ve never made in my life.

And then something strange happens.

It stops feeling like he’s kissing me.

It feels like something in him has found me. Like a hand moving through a dark room lands on a light switch it already knew was there. He goes still against my mouth for half a second, the way you go still when you hear your name called in a crowd, and then he kisses me like he recognizes me. Like we’ve done this before, a long time ago, and he’s been waiting for me to remember.

A growl rolls out of his chest, low enough that I feel it in my teeth.

And then reality slams back.

I’m kissing Wyatt Cooper. The last person on earth I should be kissing.

I rip myself away, breathless, my face burning.

He doesn’t move. He stays exactly where I left him, chest heaving, lips parted. And his eyes…

His eyes aren’t green anymore.

They’re gold. Molten gold, from edge to edge, the way a wolf’s eyes go right before the shift. He’s staring at me like I’m the first thing he’s ever seen.

Then he blinks, hard, and the green comes back. He drags a hand down his face.

“Well,” he says, his voice gravel. “Guess we have chemistry. Nothing to worry about.”

I laugh, too high and too fast. “Guess so. Then we’re done here.”

I spring to my feet and grab my books.

His hand closes around my wrist.

“There’s one more thing.”

“Wh…what?”

“The way you look at me.” His thumb rests on my pulse point. He can feel it racing. Of course he can. “You need to look at me like you’re in love with me.”

Relief flickers through me. He’s still talking about the act. Not about me.

But then his fingers lift and tilt my chin toward him, and my gaze drops to his lips, and panic surges up my throat.

“I think I’m good,” I blurt, stumbling back. I clutch my books to my chest and make for the door before I fall apart completely.

He doesn’t follow me.

But just before the door closes, I hear him say something under his breath. Low. Rough. Not to me.

“That’s not possible.”

I don’t stop to ask what he means.

I walk the twelve minutes back to my dorm so fast my calves burn. The cool September air doesn’t help. Neither does the fact that my lips still feel swollen. Neither does the fact that I can still smell him on my skin. Cedar. Ice. Orange peel.

It was supposed to be practice. A rehearsal. Part of the deal.

That lie lasts until the second flight of stairs.

I was right to be scared. I liked it. I liked it so much that my fingers keep drifting up to my mouth, like they’re checking the kiss is still there. I catch myself doing it three times before I make it to my door.

I drop my books on the bed. Darcy’s half of the room is dark and neat, her sketchbooks stacked on the desk. She won’t be back from her anniversary trip until tomorrow. For once, I’m glad no one is here to see my face.

I go to the bathroom and splash cold water on my cheeks. Once. Twice. I grip the edge of the sink and look up into the mirror, ready to give myself a lecture about rebounds and revenge and terrible decisions.

The words die in my throat.

My eyes are gold.

Not brown. Not hazel in the light. Gold. A thin, bright ring around each iris, burning like the edge of a coin in the sun.

I stop breathing.

I’ve seen that gold my whole life. In Knox’s eyes when he’s angry. In my aunt’s. In every wolf I’ve ever known.

Never in mine.

Not once in twenty years.

I lean closer to the glass, my heart slamming.

And something leans with me.

Something inside my chest, warm and heavy and alive, presses up against my ribs the way Wyatt’s hand pressed against my wrist. And a voice, low and sure and absolutely not mine, says one word inside my head.

Mine.