Free Trust by Viola Rivard Page B

reflexively flew to cover her chest.
    Alder placed his large hand over hers. Her cheeks burned as he peeled her hands back, revealing her chest. His index finger traced the white scar that ran from her collar down to her stomach. The older she got, the smaller it seemed to become, but today it felt large and glaring.
    “What happened?” he asked.
    Taylor had known the question was coming. When she was younger the long answer that involved her medical diagnosis and a list of her surgeries had been well rehearsed. But then, some time around high school, she’d figured out how to strategically dress so that the scar remained hidden. Back then, she’d told herself that it was only because she was tired of explaining the scar—definitely not because she was insecure about it—that it made sense to cover it up.
    She doubted that Alder would understand all the medical mumbo jumbo, so she simply said, “I had a bad heart, so the doctors took it out and gave me a new one.”
    She chewed her lip as she waited for him to respond.
    “That’s remarkable,” he murmured, still tracing the scar. His eyes flickered up to hers. “Are you better?”
    For now.
    “Yeah, I am.” Hesitantly, she asked, “Does it…bother you?”
    His hand flattened over her heart. “No.”
    Taylor felt her pulse quicken and she knew he could feel it as well. Feeling emotional, she quickly sought to change the subject.
    “So, where are we?” She playfully wagged her eyebrows. “Is this your den?”
    Though he seemed reluctant, Alder accepted the change of topic. “It’s part of it.”
    Setting her aside, Alder sat up and stretched. He was wearing a pair of blue jeans, and as he stood she noticed there was a large bulge in the front of them. Her mind wandered back to the day at the river, when she’d seen him in all of his naked glory. He had wanted her then. Would he still want her now?
    There was a stack of fabrics by the doorway. Alder grabbed something off the top and tossed it to her. It was a simple lavender dress, short but with long sleeves, made of some sheer material. It struck her as strange that he had such a feminine article of clothing lying around his den.
    Hoping she wasn’t coming off as weird and possessive, she asked, “Who does this belong to?”
    “One of the females in my pack,” Alder replied. He was leaning against the wall, watching her through tired eyes.
    As she quickly slipped the dress on, it occurred to her that he’d said ‘my pack’. He could have just been making a generalization, but something about the way he’d said it made her think otherwise.
    “Are you some sort of leader? Like an alpha wolf?”
    Taylor remembered that he’d used the term when referring to Silas, the big scary wolf from the night before.
    Alder nodded. “My brother and I lead the pack together.”
    “The one who taught you how to start a fire?”
    Taylor moved to stand, but noticed that her ankle had been bound with ribbons of cloth. Wiggling it, she could feel that it was sore, but it didn’t seem too bad off.
    “A minor sprain,” Alder commented, coming back over to sit beside her. “Should be better in a few days if you stay off it. And no, not that brother.”
    Alder took one of her legs into his warm hands and began massaging her calf. It was completely unexpected and she would have been embarrassed had she not been enjoying it so much.
    “How many brothers do you have?” she asked.
    Alder said, “A lot. Mostly half-brothers sired through my father.”
    His thumb hit an exceptionally sensitive nerve and she couldn’t stop the moan that escaped her lips. When she was brave enough to look his way, she could see him grinning.
    “How does your head feel?” he asked as he moved on to her other calf.
    She hadn’t even remembered it was injured. “Not too bad. Just a little bump, I guess.”
    He cocked a brow. “You don’t remember getting stitches?”
    “You gave me stitches?” she asked incredulously. “Wow, I