A Werewolf to Call Her Own (Mystic Isle, Book 2) by Selena Blake

single next solstice, meet me here. Same time, same place.

Yours,
Maxim
     
    The paper fell to the floor and Ceara sank into the plush desk chair. Gone. Without a kiss or a good-bye or… anything other than the note.
    It was silly to feel like crying, but that didn’t stop her from blinking back tears. After last night, she had no doubt about his desire for her. And she’d known, from moment one, that they had no future. He’d told her as much. These days were all he could offer. She’d promised him she was leaving today but she’d expected a proper good-bye. A last kiss, a --
    The elevator chimed. The sound spurred her into action. She scurried into the bathroom and threw on the complimentary robe. When she raced back to the foyer, Maxim stood there with a massive arrangement of orchids in his arms.
    Her heart skipped two beats.
    “I got to the runway.”
    He didn’t say anything else for a long moment, simply held her gaze. She clutched the robe’s lapels together, once again feeling exposed. Why was he back?
    “Did you forget something?” she asked, barely recognizing the soft, husky voice as her own.
    For the first time since they’d met, he looked unsure of himself. She didn’t want to pry and read his mind but he seemed to waffle between coming inside and leaving. His big body alternately leaned toward her a fraction and then his muscles coiled and he straightened.
    “This,” he muttered a second before his lips found hers. Hand cupping her cheek, he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping inside her mouth.
    Thoroughly confused, she opened for him, clutching his shoulders.
    But no sooner had the kiss begun, than he pulled back a fraction. He tipped his forehead against hers.
    “Next year…”
    “Hmm huh.” She was boneless. Thoughtless. Completely breathless.
    “Be here?”
    “Yes.”
    “These are for you, by the way.” He stepped back and thrust the flowers into her hands. Heart in her throat, she hugged the huge vase.
    “Keep the room as long as you like.”
    He didn’t smile. Didn’t reassure her. No. He backed up, three or four steps, toward the elevator. Then he turned away.
    There was an immediate heaviness inside her rib cage. Sadness, loss.
    “Maxim!”
    She sat the vase down and then crossed the distance in three long strides. He turned just as she reached for him. Feeling bold and in control for the first time in her life, she rose up on her tip toes and kissed him. Pouring out everything she felt but couldn’t put to words and let her lips do the talking.
    Then she pulled back just far enough to look into his eyes. To memorize the color, the flecks of light. “Take care of yourself.”
     
     
     

Chapter Ten
     
    Three months later…
    Maxim strode out of the conference room and turned right. He’d been on constant alert the past few weeks, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He unballed his fists and felt some of the tension drain away.
    “That went better than expected,” Hunter said, jogging up next to him.
    He nodded. “The truce is still shaky.”
    He still had a hard time believing that Danya was dead and he, Maxim, was the new Alpha of the Novgorod pack.
    The mutual meeting ground on Mystic Isle had been a smart idea on his part. Neutrality was key. But there had to be more that he could do to cool the feud between the two groups. The last thing either kind needed was for this mess to go global.
    “Trust must be earned again,” Hunter said, echoing Maxim’s thoughts, his usual playfulness missing.
    “Agreed.”
    “If worse comes to worst, you could always marry a vamp.” Hunter paused and Maxim rounded on him. There was a teasing glint in his brother’s eyes. “See you at home,” he said, walking backward down the hall.
    “What are you doing?” Maxim asked.
    Hunter shrugged and gave that killer smile that made him so popular with the ladies.
    “Hey, I am not the one the pack is relying on to find a mate. That is the best part about being the beta, brother.