The wind rose, and in the distance thunder mumbled. A storm brewing, she thought, moving to the door to fling it open to the fast, cool air. Looking up, she watched dark clouds roll and bump, caught the faint blink of far-off lightning.

She thought it would be lovely to sleep with the sound of rain falling on the roof. Better, to curl up in bed with a book and read half the night while the wind howled and the rain lashed.

Smiling at the idea, she shifted her gaze. And looked directly into the glinting eyes of the wolf.

She stumbled back a step, pressing a hand to her throat, where her heart had leaped. He was halfway across the clearing, closer than he’d ever come. Wiping her nervous hands on her jeans, she cautiously stepped out onto the porch.

“Hello.” She laughed a little, but kept one hand firmly on the doorknob. Just in case. “You’re so beautiful,” she murmured while he stood, still as a stone carving. “I look for you every day. You never eat the food I leave out. Nothing else does, either. I’m not a very good cook. I keep wishing you’d come closer”

As her pulse began to level, she lowered slowly into a crouch. “I won’t hurt you,” she murmured. “I’ve been reading about wolves. Isn’t it odd that I brought a book about you with me? I don’t even remember packing it, but I brought so many books. You shouldn’t be interested in me,” she said with a sigh. “You should be running with a pack, with your mate.”

The sadness hit so quickly, so sharply, that she closed her eyes against it. “Wolves mate for life,” she said quietly, then jolted when lightning slashed and the bellow of thunder answered by shaking the sky.

The clearing was empty. The black wolf was gone. Rowan walked to the porch rocker, sat and curled up her legs to watch the rain sweep in.

*  *  *

He was thinking about her far too much and far too often. It infuriated him. Liam was a man who prided himself on self-control. When one possessed power, control must walk with it. Power untempered could corrupt. It could destroy.

He’d been taught from birth his responsibilities as well as his advantages. His gifts as well as his curses. Solitude was his way of escaping all of it, at least for short spans of time.

He knew, too well, no one escaped destiny.

The son of princes was expected to accept destiny.

Alone in his cabin, he thought of her. The way she’d looked when he’d come into the clearing. The way fear had danced around her even as she’d stepped outside.