Into Their Woods (The Eerie, #1)(63)

Striding backward, I guide Noah to follow, and she steps away from the mirrors. I pull us to the middle of the room, stopping just under the massive chandelier that lights the shop, because I love the way it paints golden highlights into her hair.

“I know you’re overwhelmed,” I start as we settle in across from one another, her delicate hand still gripped in mine. “Everything that’s happened since the day you got here is nuts.”

“You can say that again,” she quips, but her smile is weary. The return of her sarcasm helps me relax, eases some of the tension I didn’t even realize was tightening my spine. Ribbing means she’s not terrified.

“You’ve had to put up with a lot, and I don’t just mean Karen.” I pull a face.

That earns me a snort-laugh, bolstering my confidence and prompting me to step closer.

Fuck.

I could just stare at her for hours, memorize every smile, every freckle, and gleam in her eyes. I want to know what she looks like when she’s at peace and happy. When she’s sated. I want to know what she looks like when she’s coming on my cock…

Crap. Not helping, Perth.

I shake off my wandering thoughts and continue, “The eerie world can be shocking, but you can—you will—manage it. One step at a time. Just like dancing.”

I catch her inhaling deeply and wonder if she’s pulling in my scent. If she likes it as much as I like hers. I hope so. Because this woman smells like the only future I want.

I lift my other hand, palm up. This time there’s no hesitation as she sets her free hand in mine.

I start guiding her, moving backward and letting her body get used to my command. Her first few steps are reluctant and unsure, but quickly she realizes all she has to do is stride around the room at my lead. No dancing yet, merely moving together.

“We’re going to two-step,” I explain as we circle the room slowly. I’m a bit taller than her, and I have to shorten my steps so she can keep up. I change the pace a few times once I realize that her legs brush against mine when we’re off-rhythm. That tiny hint of a touch lights a flare inside my head, shooting off delicious red sparks, and I have to breathe slowly and carefully to reset myself. Remind myself that I have to be good.

With a metric ton of effort fighting against my wolf, we settle into an even pace.

“The thing about telling someone how to dance is…it moves focus to the wrong place. You get in your head, try to picture the moves and figure out how to fit your body into what you’ve been told. Logically, that might make sense or feel like the easiest way to put it all together. That’s only because we’re used to braining everything out.”

She gives a lopsided grin. “Braining, huh?”

“Yes, too much braining.” I wink. “I avoid it whenever possible.”

That earns me a soft laugh that makes my chest expand to twice its normal size as I continue, “In the end, it isn’t our brains that are doing the actual dancing. It’s our bodies. And sometimes it’s better for our bodies to tell our minds what feels right.”

With that, I pull her closer. I position us in a classic, closed dance position. Noah automatically rests a hand on my shoulder, and she gasps quietly as I fit us together before once again leading her into the quick-quick-slow-slow rhythm of the dance.

She stumbles a little and drops her eyes.

“Look at me, Noah,” I gently correct in a low tone. And those eyes slowly rise back up to my face, flooding me with emotions. Now that she’s so close, I notice details about her face that I’d missed before—a tiny scar near the left corner of her mouth, like she nicked her lip on something. A trio of freckles near her hairline. The divot in the middle of her luscious lips.

I start to get hard having her here, holding her close, feeling her trust me. And suddenly I’m not sure I can do this. I might need to run like Ruger. I might need to burst out that door and burn through this hunger threatening to overtake me.

But that would leave her alone. Unguarded. That’s un-fucking-acceptable. Breathing deep, I envision a metal door and slam it closed on my human and wolf desires all at once.

“Don’t we need music?” Noah questions, pulling me out of my thoughts. Fuck, she’s looking up at me, her pupils steadily dilating, and her breaths are growing more shallow as the cadence of our movement speeds up. It doesn’t help my self-control.

Gentle, Perth. She needs gentle.

“We don’t need music, but can I tell you a story?” I ask, needing to distract myself, to show Noah that she’s not alone, that I understand a little where she’s coming from.

“Of course.” She blushes. “I’d love to hear something about you.”

“I haven’t been in your shoes, dealing with what you’re dealing with. But I do know a little something about how it feels to have your head and your heart go to war.”

Her fingers squeeze mine as I search for my next words. “I have good memories of my parents’ den from when I was younger, birthdays and all that. That surprises a lot of people because they were from feuding packs, but they made it work.”

Noah’s eyebrows shoot up but she doesn’t voice the questions I know she must have. Instead, her gaze roams gently over my face as if she knows there’s a twist coming. There is.

“It was all good until my mom’s brother, who refused to accept their bond, challenged my dads.”