Undertow: Building Sanctuary, Book Two Read Online Free PDF

pleasure to be had when a strong wolf set about claiming his mate.
    His mate. Tripping over the words returned sense before he made the painful mistake of giving into need. She wasn’t his mate. She wasn’t his anything. Disappointment and confusion deepened his voice, made it rougher than he wanted. “Not a problem. But now we’d best get going.”
    Her eyes clouded with uncertainty, but she only nodded. “We have a lot to do.”
    He was doing it again, taking his frustration out on her. Victor dragged his temper under control and moderated his tone. “Yes we do. I’ll wait up top.”
    Victor didn’t wait for a response, just turned and fled, damning himself as a coward.

    Simone flipped over the creased paper in her hand and marked off two more items on the list as she took careful inventory of the purchases remaining on the bed.
    Most of the crates contained fabric, and she’d arranged for more bolts to be delivered to the dock the next morning. They could spend the winter making clothes and linens enough to supply them all.
    One less thing to worry about. Still, she dropped her pen and rubbed at the knot that had formed between her shoulders. There were so many things she’d never considered being without until she’d had to make practical arrangements for just that. Come spring, they’d have time to dig more wells and build real houses, all with the appropriate amenities and fixtures. Until then, they had to make do.
    It was exhausting.
    The creak of a squeaky board outside her room warned her a moment before a soft knock sounded against the door. “Simone?”
    She tensed, then told herself she was being a ninny. “Come in, Victor.”
    He stepped inside and closed the door gently behind him. “How was your afternoon?”
    She wished—for the thousandth time—that looking at him didn’t make her chest squeeze tight with longing. “Productive and expensive. Yours?”
    “The same.” He moved toward the bed, gaze fixed on the fruits of her shopping excursion. “What is all of this?”
    “A little bit of everything. Fabric for clothes, some kitchen gadgets, incidentals. All very boring but necessary.” She climbed off the bed and smoothed her skirt, cursing the vanity that had led her to dress nicely. He’d probably think she’d dolled herself up for him, and the hell of it was that he wouldn’t be entirely wrong.
    He brushed his fingers over a cream separator, his attention still fixed on the bed. “What’s this?”
    The last thing she wanted to talk about was the latest in dairy equipment. “It’s for the goats’ milk. It doesn’t separate well, but we can use this to—” He looked up at her, and her breath caught.
    Hunger. In the split second before he glanced away she saw it plainly in his eyes, along with a very male appreciation. He dropped the separator back to the bed and cleared his throat. “Would you like to find some dinner with me? It might be your last chance to go to a restaurant for a while.”
    Even sharp disappointment couldn’t overcome practicality. “I ate a late lunch, but thank you for thinking of me.”
    “You sure? I clean up all right, for a farm boy.”
    “A tragic understatement, I’m sure.” She straightened his collar, stupidly grateful for the chance to touch him. “I don’t know if my poor little heart could take it.”
    The muscles in his shoulder tensed a moment before his hand shot up, curling around hers. Rough, warm fingertips brushed her skin, urging her heart into a staccato rhythm. “I’d be gentle with your heart.”
    “Would you?” Perhaps he’d been trying, though every short word and cross look had stung.
    He closed his eyes, though his fingers kept up their slow, maddening stroking. “You gave it away before I had a chance to know how much of what you feel for me is instinct and how much is real. I’m not the kind of bastard who’ll take what was never offered.”
    She blinked at him as she tried to process his words. “Are you