Chapter 6

Riley’s POV

I sighed in relief. Having a literal door between me and my canine captor was oddly comforting.

I luxuriated in his tub—first class, if first class came with clawed supervision. Mostly I needed distance. Distance from the hot, weirdly empathic guy-wolf orchestrating my kidnapping. Let’s call him Noah. No romantic nicknames; I had a strict “No Stockholm Syndrome” policy. One first date with a kidnapper and—bam—romantic cliches. Not on my resume.

Still, the man-thing in the wolf was uncomfortably charming when he’d been directing me via our ongoing charades game. I didn’t want to humanize him—feelings were weakness, ladies and gentlemen. That was Psych 101 Wisdom for you: think you know people, end up seething at your own brain.

Bathing in his soapy lair was… strange. His shower gel smelled like “River Rocks,” which I decided was code for “food flavoring lab accident.” The scent was vaguely aquatic but also reminded me of crushed gravel. Shav