Forget Me Not (#2, The Mystic Wolves) by Belinda Boring Read Free Book Online

familiar sight. Mason liked to keep things simple, and immaculate—the complete opposite to the organized chaos of my own. I teased him about enjoying his orderly life while he could, because once we were mated, I would be introducing him to the joys of living with someone messy. He’d smile, and shake his head.
    “Mark my words,” I’d tell him. “I’ll cure you of your need for everything in its place.” He thought I was joking, and I let him believe that.
    My hand caressed the smooth surface of his dresser. I loved the smell of his cologne mixed with his own scent, and the way it filled the air. Everywhere I turned, I saw masculine touches that reflected his tastes—the mahogany stained bed, bookshelves filled with classics, and a dresser set carrying photo frames and random collectibles. The color scheme was in the rich, deep colors of the forest we enjoyed—browns, lush greens, and tans. The walls displayed paintings from Mason’s favorite local artist, and it conveyed a warm sense of home. 
    One of the best features of his room, however, was the stunning view from his window. We were surrounded by the thickness of dense woodlands, each room showing something similar, but Mason’s was by far my favorite. I didn’t know what it was—the way the sun looked rising and setting over the tree line, or how it seemed to always reveal the different creatures moving about that never failed to hold my attention.
    Peering through the glass, I leaned forward and rested my forehead on the transparent surface. The intensity of the afternoon sun had heated it, and the sensation against my skin felt wonderful. My gaze darted back and forth, looking for movement, and sure enough I caught the quickened run of a fox. My wolf also noticed, eager to chase after the animal.
    “I love this view, Mason. I could stand here and stare forever.” I sighed, unable to glance away.
    “I agree. It’s spectacular.” His response held a low, husky tone. Something in his voice told me we weren’t speaking about the same thing. Peering over my shoulder, I saw an appreciative, hungry expression on his face.
    “I was talking about outside your window.” I laughed, wiggling my finger at him. “No funny ideas, Mister. I’m here on official business.”
    “Really? Like what? I don’t remember giving you any orders. What could possibly be more important than spending some alone time with me?” He hadn’t moved from where he was leaning, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. He was the picture of sexy—especially with the strands of brown hair falling across his brow. There was a curious twinkle in his blue eyes, and I tipped my head to the side slightly.
    “Of course there is, it’s not every day I get to snoop in your room. I want to see what kind of bad habits you’ve developed since the last time I was here. You can’t possibly be as perfect as you seem,” I teased, making my way back over to his dresser. I studied the photo frames, giving an extra loving stroke with my hand over Jasmine’s. Picking up a picture of Mason and me, I lifted it to show him.
    “I adore this one of us.” I smiled, remembering the day it was taken. I’d loved the day we’d gone on a road trip to the ocean, the need to dig our toes in the sand, and swim in the surf, strong. It had taken us hours to get there, but it had been worth it. The second I’d caught the smell of salt in the air, and the sound of sea gulls crying as they scavenged for food, I’d squealed and tore off across the loose sand. Mason had been right behind me, both of us peeling off clothes to get to our bathing suits, overlooking the gazes of other beachcombers.
    We’d laughed as our feet hit the waves, the water the perfect temperature, and I’d bent over to splash him. Grinning, Mason had picked me up, and ignoring my protests, carried me deeper into the breakers. I’d wrapped my arms around his neck, feeling completely safe.
    When we finally came back to the shore,