Page 31 of Beckett's Fate
“Tell me about your time at the university,” he said, his tone casual but curious. “You mentioned archaeology earlier.”
Her eyes lit up, and she launched into a story about her first fieldwork assignment in the Arizona desert, her voice animated as she described the thrill of unearthing artifacts and the camaraderie of working with her team. Beck listened intently, a small smile tugging at his lips as she shared her experiences.
“You sound like you really loved it,” he said when she paused to take a sip of her drink.
“I did,” Irene admitted, a touch of wistfulness in her tone. “It was my escape, my way of finding something tangible in a world that felt... uncertain.”
Beck leaned forward slightly, his expression softening. “And yet, you left it behind.”
Her gaze flicked to his, and for a moment, she looked as though she might deflect the question. But then she sighed, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “Life has a way of pulling you in unexpected directions,” she said simply.
Beck studied her, his sharp gaze searching her face. “I think there’s more to it than that.”
Irene arched a brow, her smile returning. “What happened to not pushing for answers?”
“I said I’d honor your secrets about your pack,” Beck said, his voice low and even. “But I never said I wouldn’t ask questions.”
She laughed softly, shaking her head. “You’re relentless, you know that?”
“Always,” Beck said, his smile widening.
The comfortable rhythm of their conversation was interrupted by a faint sound outside the diner—a low rumble of voices and the sound of boots on gravel. Beck’s wolf stirred, his senses sharpening as his gaze flicked to the window.
Irene noticed the shift in his posture, her expression tightening. “What is it?”
“Stay here,” Beck said, his tone firm.
Before she could protest, he rose from the booth and headed out the door.
“Trap?”
“Des came with a couple of your guys. He said they’d put them under surveillance.”
“Any trouble?”
“Not yet, but…”
“Yeah, I know. Thanks, Trap.”
Trap nodded and then headed back to the sheriff’s office. The storm brewing outside wasn’t over yet. Beck returned to the booth, forcing his body to look calm and composed. He slid back into his seat.
“Everything okay?” she asked, her voice steady but laced with curiosity.
“For now,” Beck replied, his tone low. “But I wouldn’t put it past them to keep sniffing around.”
Irene nodded, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. The guarded look was back in her eyes, but there was a flicker of something else—something softer.
Beck leaned forward, his gaze unwavering. “Irene,” he began, his voice quieter now, “there’s something I need to tell you.”
She stilled, her eyes narrowing slightly. “What is it?”
“I know what you are to me,” he said, his tone steady, yet laced with an underlying vulnerability. “You’re my fated mate.”
The words hung in the air between them, charged and undeniable.
Irene’s lips parted slightly, her expression shifting from guarded to something that looked dangerously close to shaken. “Beck...” she began, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I’m not saying this to pressure you,” he continued, his eyes never leaving hers. “I just... I need you to know. I’ve known since the moment I caught your scent. And I think you know it, too.”