Jenna sat comfortably: legs pulled up into her father's oversized recliner, a worn blanket draped over her bottom half, and a cup of steaming coffee warming her hands. The mess was gone. The wolf lay atop a mass of better blankets right beside her fire. His chest rose and fell steadier, and the white bandage circling his middle was clean.

She took a sip and lowered the mug back down, staring at him. It felt good, having someone other than herself inside the house. She'd been solitary for so long. It was comforting. Her father had been gone for years, and Jenna hadn't realized how alone she'd been. As long as she had her books, it never felt unbearable. She had Caspian and Heather. She had Bruce and Mishara. Clay and Fern. She had a million lives and loves to experience, but now that she had a companion, she realized they'd never been her own.

The wolf shifted in his sleep, and his paws began to kick as if he were chasing prey within his dreams, or, perhaps, running away from a gun wielding farmer.

She swapped the coffee for the book she'd been reading, skimming back to the beginning of her favorite scene.

The steady rhythm of her pulse was too much for him to resist. She was his, and he needed to mark her as so.

Her gaze shifted up to the sleeping wolf then back to the page. Her heart beat wilder. Her stomach flipped harder, because, now, the fantasy was closer. It was... possible. Could it happen? She fit the role. She'd been desperately alone for years. She was a spinster. The crazy woman who'd chosen to live her life with books. The only time she saw anyone at all was when she had to go into town, which wasn't very often given the ability to have food and supplies delivered. There was no need to work. Her father had left her the house, the land, and an insurance policy large enough to sustain her until death.

She was the perfect heroine. Her eyes ran over the massive wolf. Had she ever seen one that size? Never. Weren't they supposed to be just like large dogs? This one seemed too big. Man-sized big.

Jenna pondered the notion for hours, question after question, searching through each similarity to a story she'd read in the past. Before she knew it, the sun had rose and the light between the shudders shone a pale wintry, gray.

The wolf stirred, and a low whine rippled from its chest.

Her heart lurched, pulse accelerated. She dropped the book down onto the table and abandoned her empty mug. "It's okay," she crooned, though her voice shook in a way that made her sound anything but calm. She stood frozen for a beat, attention darting between the wolf and everywhere else as she fought to find the answer to what she should do.

Food. Water. If her wolf was going to heal, he'd need to regain his strength. She rushed to the kitchen and tore through her cabinets for a bowl, then the fridge. Jenna grabbed the pound of hamburger she'd left to thaw then thought better of it. If he was a man... She paused, for a split moment acknowledging that her thoughts were insane. Regardless, she put the raw meat back and grabbed the leftovers of a roast instead. It was one day past it's shelf life, but she didn't think the wolf would mind. It was the best she could do at the moment. Later, she'd cook for him. Warmth filled her chest, and a wide smile curved across her face.

She hurried back to the room, holding a bowl of roast in one hand, and a bowl of water in the other.

His eyes were wide open, just as shimmering gold as they'd been the evening before. He stared at her as she approached, attention locked on her face. He didn't even acknowledge what she held in her hands, and Jenna's cheeks grew hot.

"I... uh... I brought you some food," she said, easing closer and carefully placing the bowls beside his head.

The wolf remained perfectly still, watching her even as she moved away and gingerly crawled back into the recliner. Then, he tilted his head up, sniffing at the offering she'd given him before grabbing the roast with the side of his mouth and dragging it to the blanket.

Razor sharp canines ripped away at the meat, ravaging the meager amount in no more than a couple of swallows. He tilted back and sniffed at the bowl, lapping his tongue up in search of more before settling on the water.

"I know it's not much," Jenna said, running her hands over her legs. "I can make something else for us in just a little bit."

The wolf turned back toward her as she spoke. She wondered what he'd say if he could answer, and imagined he'd tell her not to worry, that it was fine. He'd probably thank her for saving him, and ask her for her name. Perhaps, he'd tell her his. She wished she could know his.

"I'm Jenna," she continued, as if he really had asked her. "I found you in the woods. Someone shot you. I removed the bullet and patched up the wound. The bleeding hasn't shown through your bandage, so I think it must have stopped. I think that's a good sign."

Again, he stared. Golden eyes. Intense eyes.

She swallowed hard. "This is my cabin. Well, it was my father's. He passed away three years ago, so it's just been me here. I'll be honest, it's nice to have a man around the house."

The wolf blew out a breath and dropped its head back to the blanket, turning its attention away from her and onto whatever void people found when they sought out their own thoughts.

She cleared her throat. "Sorry. It's been a while since I had someone to talk to." Heavy silence followed her apology. She'd annoyed him. Her face grew hot again. She was messing it all up. Well, he was obviously still hungry. What reason did she have to wait to cook him something else? The poor man was starving. He was injured. No wonder he was annoyed. It wasn't like he could ask her for food in his current state.

"Well, then, I suppose we can have some breakfast. Do you like eggs? Sausage? I think I've got some bacon left." Even as she asked the questions, she moved to complete the task. In a hurry to regain his attention and prove herself to be a good hostess, she began cooking like she'd hadn't done since her father was alive. She cracked four eggs, then as an after thought, added another two. The men in her books always had huge appetites, and she wanted to make sure he was full.

Within the span of ten minutes, eight sausage links and a half pound of bacon sizzled loudly in the electric skillet, and she was just pouring the beaten eggs into pan on the stove. "I used to cook for my father all the time," she called into the living room as she scraped the mixture with her spatula. "He worked long hours, so it was even earlier in the morning. He never ate quite this much, but he wasn't a big man." She finished and scraped them into a big bowl, then began forking the bacon and sausage onto a platter.

Jenna took her time preparing their portions. She used the good china, arranging it how she imagined they would on the cooking shows she sometimes watched. When it was all done, she added a garnish of leafy green from the celery stalks in the crisper.

She returned then, less cautious than she had the last time, and sat the plate on the floor by the wolf's head. It looked up at her, then immediately tore into the food, demolishing the hard work Jenna had done with a speed that left her dizzy.

Her face fell. He hadn't even admired it. But, at least he seemed to enjoy it. He hadn't complained. If anything, she'd never seen a man appreciate a woman's cooking more. With those thoughts, she smiled softly and retrieved the small portion she'd made for herself. There was still time. There'd be plenty of time to get to know each other. Once he'd regained his strength, and his appetite was satiated, they could have a more comfortable meal together.

Jenna took a small bite of her eggs. "I'm glad you like it."

Hope you enjoyed 😁 Next upload tomorrow