Alpha's Moon: A special forces shifter romance Renee Rose (universal ebook reader .txt) 📖

“I know. I need to go for a run. It’s, ah, the PTSD. I get restless, and it helps me sleep.”

Fuck, I feel like the biggest asshole for lying to her.

Sympathy sweeps over her features, and she reaches up to touch my face. I catch her hand and bring it to my lips before I can help myself. Her expression softens even more. “Is it okay with you? You’re okay here?”

“Yes, of course. I understand.”

Thank fuck. I change into a pair of gym shorts that I’d planned on sleeping in, but I don’t have running shoes, which is a bit suspicious. I settle for kicking off my shoes.

Sadie emerges from the bathroom where she washed her face and brushed her teeth. Her eyes fly wide when she sees my running attire. “Oh! Are you one of those barefoot runners?”

I didn’t know there was such a thing, but I nod. It’s not a lie.

“Wow. That’s incredible,” she breathes. “I’ve heard of it, and I understand the theory behind it, but it boggles my mind.”

Since I have no clue about the theories behind it, I move in and drop a light kiss on her forehead. “Don’t wait up.”

“Oh! Um, okay.”

I head for the door.

“You can sleep in the bed with me when you get back.” She sounds almost shy as she offers.

“Babe.” I don’t want to tell her no, but sleeping beside her is definitely not an option. Not if I want to keep her safe from me.

In fact, I don’t plan to come back to this room until the night is mostly over, and I’ve run myself into the ground.

I leave before she tempts me into staying longer and make a beeline for outside. I find a hiking trail and follow it away from the resort until it’s safe to strip and shift.

And then I take off up the mountain, running from Sadie. Running from myself.

Running until I’m sure it’s safe to come back.

Chapter 11

Sadie

I wake up in a warm bed. It’s morning already, and Deke’s side of the bed is empty. On his pillow there’s a note that reads “Gone for another run. Meet you at yoga.”

I had hoped for a continuation of our sexual escapades last night, but I didn’t hear Deke come back to the room.

Too bad.

I hop up and get ready for yoga. When I pull the curtains, the gorgeous view greets me. I feel great, sparkly with energy and a good night’s sleep. I slept better last night than I have in weeks. Maybe we didn’t get to fool around in bed again, but it’s wonderful to have Deke here.

Today is going to be a good day. First I have to get through yoga, but then we have free time before the rehearsal dinner tonight. Maybe I can convince Deke to spend it with me in bed.

A half an hour later, I’m outside with the bride and the rest of the ladies assembled on the front deck. I blush when I see the corner where Deke and I spent time last night. I have fond memories of that corner.

“Hey, Sadie,” Brigit greets me when I roll out a mat next to hers. She's in full makeup and Lululemon from head to toe. Most of the women wear the same. “Sleep well?”

“Yep. All this mountain air,” I say.

“You going to hike later? April and I went out early this morning. It was really nice.”

“Deke already went for a run,” I say. “He was up before I got up.”

“Oh, is he a morning person?”

“Um, yes.” I guess. I actually have no idea. It's not like Deke and I are actually dating.

“Ask him if he saw any wildlife. We saw a bunch of hawks and April thinks she saw a wolf.”

“It was a giant wolf,” April insists from her mat on the other side of Brigit. “I didn’t see it clearly, but I saw something. It had a big tail.”

“Probably a large coyote.” Brigit sounds skeptical, and April sticks her tongue out at her cousin.

“I bet there are tons of wolves in this area,” I say.

“Yeah, but no way one would come so close to the resort,” Brigit slips in the last word before the instructor starts the class.

“Isn’t Deke supposed to be here?” Brigit whispers. Jenn and her mom, Lacy, turn from their spots to wave at me.

“Whoa,” one of the women murmurs appreciatively. I turn to look to the deck stairs, where Deke has appeared. He’s already barefoot for some reason, and for yoga attire, he’s thrown on a pair of loose sweats. But it doesn’t matter because he’s not wearing anything else. He’s bare chested, with his white t-shirt draped over his broad shoulders, and every muscle on his chest stands out in beautiful relief. He must have gotten hot on his run.

“Sorry, I’m late,” he mutters to the yoga instructor, who looks like she’d like to ditch our class to do a private couple’s yoga session with Deke. There’s a chorus of murmurs from the assembled ladies as Deke prowls among us. Two ladies rush to grab a mat for him. There’s not much room left, so after nodding in my direction, Deke arranges himself next to the instructor. She eventually finds her voice and starts the class, and we all pretend to follow along, though really everyone is watching Deke, who still hasn’t put his shirt back on. There are heaters set up on the deck, but it’s still not that warm, but Deke must be hot blooded, and thank St. Theresa—or whomever is the patron saint of lady boners—for that.

Had I known what Deke was hiding under his James Dean t-shirts and leather jackets, I’d rid the world of every Deke-sized article of clothing, just so he’d go around nude. Each yoga position makes his muscles pop. But his body is smooth and sleek and not stiff like a gym bound body builder. It’s a work of art, and this morning we are all Sister Wendy, the late nun/art