Free Haunted Wolves: Green Pines, Book 2 by Moira Rogers

the monster. It won’t hurt anyone else.’ And I believed him. That’s all I’ve ever known. Trying to get the monster before it hurts someone else.”
    She reached for his hand, her fingers barely skimming his before pulling away. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t right.”
    “No, it was fair and right. That’s not why I’m telling you this.”
    “Why, then?”
    “Because it’s not fair that I get to go tramping through your past, and you don’t know a damn thing about mine.”
    Lorelei stared at him for long moments and finally shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know what to say. That never happens to me, except with you.”
    It didn’t sound much like a compliment, but a pretty damn smug—and entirely human—part of him radiated satisfaction. “Good,” he replied lightly. “That makes us square.”
    She worried her lower lip with her teeth. “Does it?”
    “I never know what to say, either. But I’m an alpha, honey. Not knowing what to say has never stopped me from blundering into a conversation. I’ll try to get better.”
    Her head hit the seat. “Sometimes I just get so tired .”
    “Well, there’s an easy cure for that.” He could tuck her into bed and forget to wake her up for twelve hours, twelve blissful hours free of him and his confusing conversation. Twelve hours where he knew she was getting exactly what she needed.
    “Thank you.” The soft murmur barely reached his ears over the purr of the engine.
    It felt almost like victory.

Chapter Six
    The aroma of bacon, eggs and scorched pancakes woke her. Lorelei rolled out of bed, rubbing at her bleary eyes as she made her way down the short hallway to the kitchen.
    Colin was there, swearing at the stove as plumes of smoke rose from the griddle pan. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and she blinked at the broad expanse of his back. His jeans had ridden down, almost indecently low on the muscled swell of his ass, baring the strong lines of his hips too.
    She cleared her throat and reached past him for the knob controlling the stove eye. “Heat’s too high.”
    “Damn it.” He scowled at the pan and used a bent spatula to scrape up the blackened pancake. “I haven’t done this in about twenty years.”
    “Then let me.”
    His frown deepened as he brandished the spatula like a weapon. “I should learn to do this. Eden glares when us guys don’t help cook.”
    If he wanted to learn, so be it. “Okay, what did you use to grease the pan? Butter or oil?” His awkward silence was answer enough, and Lorelei reached for the refrigerator door. “We’ll start over.”
    She went through it step by step—heating and greasing the pan, and pouring out the small mounds of batter—all the while trying to ignore the warm press of his bare arm against hers. When bubbles began to break through the surface, she flipped one pancake, then handed him the spatula.
    A tiny smile tugged at his lips as he repeated the motion on the other two. “So I guess my first mistake was thinking that warm cooks and hot cooks faster.”
    “Mmm, sometimes all hot does is burn.”
    He laughed shortly and continued to watch the pancakes. “Words to live by, eh?”
    She leaned against the edge of the counter and watched him . “I think so.”
    If her perusal bothered him, he gave no sign. All of his attention seemed fixed on the task at hand with an almost endearing level of attention, as if producing an edible breakfast was the most important task in the world. He didn’t glance at her when he spoke again. “Did you get some rest?”
    She hadn’t expected to, not after the stress and pain of the last few days, not to mention the trials to come. But she’d slept deeply, and if she dreamed, she didn’t remember. “I did, thanks.”
    “Good. This condo’s meant to be safe, but it feels a little…” He shrugged. “Depressing, I guess. Faded scent of a dozen different wolves, all of them rolling through here alone.”
    Lorelei had been