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89. Goodbye, Layla

Layla felt Jackson coming before she heard the first metal door opening. Her heart started to pound. The voice in her head that had kept her up all night grew louder.

‘Kiss him!’

‘Beg!’

‘You need him—’’

“Enough,” she hissed.

It had never been this bad before. Why would this happen now when she needed to think clearly around Jackson? She’d assumed he would let her stew in her uncertainty a little longer before he spoke to her again.

She got off the uncomfortable cot when his footsteps drew nearer. She took a deep breath and the scent of the forest filled her lungs. She had always assumed it was his cologne, but now that she knew being around wolves was changing her, she knew it was his natural scent. They all smelled differently, so it was easy for her to believe that Jackson would have found her easily if she had escaped.

The light came on and blinded her briefly. Anticipation filled her body at the thought of seeing Jackson again, and that was still a ridiculous thing to want. She
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