Surely the wolf had preferences, even subconscious ones. Everyone did. Little things that drew their eye to a passing stranger or made them do a double take from across the room.
The stronger the partiality, the harder it was for him to fight the change. Boone had a thing for redheads, and no matter how hard he fought it, he always ended up with streaks of ginger in his hair.
Kennedy, on the other hand, liked dark eyes. It was such a mild preference, however, he only struggled to resist the compulsion when tired or distracted.
With Dominic, he kept hitting a wall. Even when he opened himself to possibility, even when he tried, he found nothing waiting for him.
At first, he worried his connection to the relique might be a contributing factor, but it seemed unlikely that it would only cut him off from one person. Especially when that person happened to be his mate.
Granted, he barely understood his own abilities, let alone the whims of fate. From what information he had, however, he seemed to be doing both wrong.
He had recognized Dominic as his mate from the moment their hands had touched. While it hadn’t been as intense or overwhelming as he’d expected, he had also never been more certain about anything in his life.
The deeper feelings had come later, perhaps shaped by their bond, but not born from it. At least, that was how it had been for him. He couldn’t shake the suspicion that Dominic experienced their connection in an entirely different way.
The wolf could be hard to read at the best of times. His expression rarely betrayed emotion, and his body language always felt a little guarded. As such, he had no way of knowing how intensely—or not—Dominic felt their bond.
Did it consume him? Border on obsession? Did it blur the lines between destiny and choice?
A sudden, sharp knock at his bedroom door snapped Sammy out of his spiraling thoughts. He jerked his head up, tension flooding his shoulders, and pushed away from the sink.
“Yeah?” he called, rushing to answer the summons.
“Dinner is ready,colibrí.”
Dominic’s deep baritone sent a jolt through him, making his heart pound and his legs tremble. His breath caught, sticking in his throat, and his mouth turned arid as he hurried across the room to open the door.
“I’m not really—oh.”
Dominic loomed at the threshold, blocking out the light from the corridor behind him. Clutched between his hands, he held a bowl of spaghetti crowned with a mountain of parmesan and a slice of garlic bread perched on the rim. The scents of tomato and oregano wafted into the room, causing his stomach to spasm with anticipation.
“I had a feeling you were going to say that.” Dominic pushed inside without waiting for an invitation and forced the bowl into Sammy’s hands. Then he sauntered over to the bed and dropped down heavily on the edge. “Eat before it gets cold.”
Sammy stood rooted, the heat from the ceramic seeping into his palms, and blinked dumbly at the unexpected gesture. The spark of his mate’s touch still lingered against his skin, sending a shock through him that made his pulse race.
“I…uh…thank you?”
“You sure about that?” Dominic leaned back on his palms and smirked, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, a hesitation that softened his usual confidence.
“Thank you,” he repeated, firmer this time. “I just meant that you didn’t have to do this.” He held his bowl up for emphasis. “I can eat in the kitchen, but I’m not that—”
“You don’t like eating with the pack.”
Not a question. Not a guess. While the tone was matter of fact, the softness in the delivery hinted at concern rather than accusation.
“I never said that.”
Dominic tilted his head, his gaze searching, penetrating. “But it’s true.”
“It’s not like that.” Sighing, he shuffled over to the bed, placed his bowl on the nightstand, and eased down beside his mate. “I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.”
“Why do you think you would?” Dominic’s eyes tightened at the corners. “Did someone say something?”
Sammy stared down at his slightly pinkened hands and shook his head. “No, no one said anything. I just…”
When he had first arrived at La Madriguera, he had been greeted with curiosity and mild suspicion, which hadn’t been entirely unexpected. Over time, the pack had become more welcoming, more accepting. Well, mostly. Thierry, it seemed, could barely stomach breathing the same air as him.
The male always stiffened when Sammy entered a room, tracking his every move but never making eye contact or lingering. He left as soon as it was acceptable, and while Sammy didn’t know why, it did make him acutely aware of how his presence created a strain on the household.