20. Mutt

I hated clothing. I always had. It was a silly, pointless human invention. Clothes made it hard to transform effortlessly, and I didn't understand why people were so offended by nudity when possessing a body was the one thing all creatures had in common.

That was all true still, but…as I walked Jeffrey up the steps to his apartment and the wounds on my chest tugged raw, covered and out of sight, I had a newfound appreciation for the fabric I usually abhorred.

Jeffrey was sleepy, soft, and quiet as he fished his phone out of his pocket and shot off a few texts, leaning against his still-locked front door.

Unable to help myself, I nuzzled against his throat, inhaling him greedily, and scenting up behind his ear, my lips brushing the downy fuzz hair there.

More tapping, more texts.

I growled at him, and he just laughed.

"Tickles!" Jeffrey snorted out, then added. "It's just my brothers," he said softly. "Wanted to make sure they knew I got home safe." He gave me a pointed look that I didn't understand. "Unlike some people," he joked.

I frowned, curiously.

"You didn't text me," he complained softly, though I could tell he was only teasing.

"I…" My cheeks were hot. I'd had my phone after I'd left the basement because I'd been inputting a number into it. And I'd seen his texts, I just– "I can't read."

Jeffrey blinked, surprised. "You can't?—"

"Read." My cheeks were hot. "At least…not well."

"Oh." Jeffrey smiled at me, his eyes softening. "Um," he licked his lips. "Pictures are good too?"

"Pictures?"

"Yeah," his smile softened even more. "You can send me pictures. And I'll send you some back. I just…I just wanna talk to you when you're not here, you know? I'll show you how later."

My heart swelled with so much love for him in that moment that I could hardly breathe.

"You are a genius," I declared, because it was true.

"I dunno about that." Jeffrey scratched the back of his fuzzy head shyly, and quickly flipped around to face the door so he could get it open. I could see his blush though. See how his cheeks pinkened in the dark. His scent was pleased-embarrassed-happy.

My tail thumped happily.

I supposed it made sense that he'd want to text his family, so I didn't argue, even though I was tired and more irritable than usual, and my head hurt. I huffed against him, nuzzling around his throat to the other side of his neck. The bite I'd left along the back was raised and red, though I hadn't broken the skin. Seeing it there made something possessive and greedy flare up inside me.

I wanted to cover him with my marks.

Wanted him to reek of me.

But…even my possessiveness felt dulled in light of the post-moon exhaustion I was still suffering with. If I was being honest, my everything hurt. Except my heart. It was light, lighter than it had been in days. Because Jeffrey was here, and whole, and he wanted me inside his den again.

"You hungry?" Jeffrey hummed the second he pushed the front door open.

"I am always hungry," I replied immediately, because it was true.

"I don't have squirrel," Jeffrey joked. "But I do have pizza if you want some. And snacks."

I nodded, too tired to do much more than wag my tail and follow after him dutifully. He ducked into the kitchen and I wandered in after him, following his directions when he pulled my chair out for me and gestured for me to take a seat at the small rickety dining room table settled in the corner of the room. It wheezed beneath my weight, but held firm.

Jeffrey had all the markers of a wolf without being one. He was hardy, strong. He was protective. He provided . He was a caregiver. He believed in family, in pack. Loyal to a fault.

This meal was a prime example of that.

Wolves provided for one another. It was our way. Not that I'd been all that good at doing that for my brothers lately. Not when my focus was divided.

It wasn't fair that he couldn't be my mate.

And it hurt .

It hurt because I knew, without a doubt in my mind, that I wasn't going to make it to my twentieth birthday—to the mating ceremony my Dad was planning. That was a choice I could no longer make. Not when I knew what Jeffrey felt like. Not now that I'd cradled his heart in my hand. Not after holding him through his nightmares and hearing what he'd been through.

I had…maybe one moon left—two, if I was being optimistic.

And then I'd be…

I'd be…

"Hey," Jeffrey's voice was quiet, soft. The scent of cheese filled the air, the plate he was pushing toward me piled high with slices. The cheese melded them together, but I didn't mind, ravenous as I always was after the moon. I knew I didn't look my best. That I was emaciated. That my ribs were showing and my eyes were sunken.

I'd looked this way when we'd first met too—but I'd been in my wolfskin, and the fur had covered some of the imperfections.

Now there was nothing to hide behind. The clothes covered up the worst of my still healing wounds, but there was no denying that I had been through hell—and Jeffrey could see that.

He pulled a chair out next to mine, sliding into it, and offering me the plate of pizza again, brow cocked expectantly. I took the plate but set it on the table, suddenly not sure if I could stomach a single bite, even though my stomach was an empty cavern.

I'd had pizza a few times, courtesy of Harry and something he called "door dish" or something like that. It was delicious. I loved it. But I just…

I just…wanted Jeffrey.

Simple as that.

It was the second kind of hunger that plagued me at the moment, not the first.

"You okay?" Jeffrey's hand was warm. Calloused. He cupped my cheek, and I bent into the pressure with a needy sigh. He scooted our chairs closer together, our knees bumping then sliding as our legs tangled.

He didn't know.

He didn't know what was happening.

And he wasn't supposed to. He was never supposed to. I was supposed to be a happy memory—a lover that he could move on from. I wasn't supposed to lose myself in him. I wasn't supposed to do this to him.

He'd been hurt enough.

It wasn't fair.

I hadn't planned on telling him the truth.

But…I couldn't lie to him either.

And I just…

I was so tired.

I couldn't even muster the energy to smile.

"Mutt." Jeffrey's expression shuttered. And then he did something he'd never done before. He rose from his chair, and climbed into my lap, folding his long, muscular body across my thighs, his fingers still curled around my cheeks. His eyes were dark with concern, and so warm. So so warm. "What's wrong, big guy?"

Of course he'd noticed how off I was.

Jeffrey was observant.

It was one of the first things I'd appreciated about him. He saw things most humans wouldn't. Aware in a way I had thought only wolves were.

I sucked in a breath—stealing Jeffrey's signature move—doing my best not to fall apart as those warm, warm hands skimmed my cheekbones and my eyes pinched shut.

"Talk to me." Jeffrey's voice wobbled. "Where were you? What happened? You left without a word. I've been…so fucking worried."

"I…" my voice broke. I curled my arms around him, burying my face in his neck and inhaling him greedily, because I didn't know if this would be the last time. I never did, anymore. My time was so close to up. "I…" I didn't know what to say.

And sometimes… showing was easier.

So I reached for the hem of my shirt and lifted it, shame coloring my scent as Jeffrey stared at the bare, scarred flesh of my abdomen. Long ropey wounds severed the flesh, pink and healing, but slowly as only alpha wounds did.

"What…the fuck," he said, voice cracking. "Is that?"

I didn't tell him everything.

Because I couldn't.

Some words just…wouldn't come out.

But I did my best.

By the time I got done explaining, Jeffrey had sobered even more. His eyes were far away, and his thumbs stroked gently over my cheekbones as he processed what I'd said. "So…the moons are getting harder?" he confirmed. "And they're just gonna get worse ?"

"Yes."

"You were gone for a week, Mutt. A week."

"I know."

"And these wounds…" Jeffrey fanned his hand along my torso, his scent soured with sadness. "This was you ?"

"Yes."

"They'll go away, won't they?" His voice cracked. "You heal. I've seen it."

I knew he had his own scars, both physical and mental. I knew that his wounds had never healed the way mine would, marks on his body that would forever remind him of his dark past. And because of this, his concern for me was even more precious. He didn't want me to have reminders of the pain I'd been through, like he did.

"They will. It will take longer," I warned quietly. "But they will."

"Do they hurt?"

"Not anymore."

"But they did."

"Yes."

Jeffrey sucked in a breath. And then he jerked his hands from my cheeks, dragging them over the fabric that bunched around my chest, down my pecs, till he could lay them across the still healing flesh. "What could be worse than this?" he asked, and his scent was hurt-hurt-hurt.

Living without you.

That's worse.

He slid to his knees on the cold floor, settled between my thighs, his eyes full of concern.

Like he was hurting for me.

Because he was.

And then he pressed a kiss to my abdomen, and I stared down at him, enraptured.

"I could lose myself entirely," I admitted. I tried to smile, to reassure him—but the smile wouldn't come. I was just…too damn exhausted. I probably should've waited to find him, but the second I'd managed to shift back to my humanskin I'd begged Theo to let me go. Because I'd needed Jeffrey. Needed to hear his heartbeat and know he was safe—for as long as I still could.

"I'll fix this," he promised, murmuring against my flayed torso. "I don't know how, but I will."

He couldn't.

But I didn't tell him that.

I had already made my choice.

His eyes said, I'm sorry.

They said, you deserve better.

They said, don't be scared.

"I'm sorry," Jeffrey said, tipping his head up, his lips still pressed to my sternum. I shuddered, my eyes burning as I stared down at him. "I'm so sorry you were hurt."

I shook my head, my eyes pinching shut.

This was more painful than the wounds.

Keeping the full truth from him.

If he could smell my scent or hear my heart he'd know. He'd know I was withholding something. But he couldn't, and he didn't.

It seemed fate was offering me some mercy today.

"Come back up here," I commanded, heart aching, tail thumping. Jeffrey complied, climbing my legs with his hands and sliding into my lap with a quiet little oomph. "Jeffrey." I stroked a hand over his cheek, running my fingers across the fuzzy fur on his head, and near the half-healed cut on his brow.

"Yeah?"

"I'm also sorry you were hurt," I said, watching his pale lashes flutter, and his whole body begin to quake.

"Yeah," Jeffrey's voice cracked. And this time when he looked at me there was strength in his dark, lovely gaze. "Me too." His hands were shaking, shaking—but they stilled as our eyes met and a soft, lovely little smile wobbled across his lips. "It sucks."

"It does."

He'd told me things. Things I got the feeling he'd never shared with anyone else. About his childhood, about the woman who had stolen it from him. I couldn't understand, not fully. And I wouldn't insult him by pretending I could. But I could love him anyway. Could admire him. Because there was nothing stronger than surviving, and Jeffrey had done just that.

I'd offered to kill Lydia for him—as we lay curled up beneath my blankets in my bed. And he'd laughed, like he thought I was joking. When I'd doubled down, he'd simply shaken his head and told me, "She isn't worth it."

He was the bravest, strongest person I'd ever met.

And that was only proven even more true as Jeffrey spoke again, his hands finding my cheeks for the second time, all that lovely lanky muscle settled in my lap where it was meant to be.

"It sucks," he repeated, "But…" his smile grew stronger, his dark eyes brighter. "Things get better."

My heart thumped, my hand suddenly sweaty. That look was just…wow. He looked so sure. So…confident. And the comfort was appreciated, more than he knew. I had only given him the tip of the iceberg but…I could admit I needed his warmth more than ever right now. The silvery threads of our incomplete bond throbbed and flickered, and I grasped onto them, starved, begging whatever gods were listening that Jeffrey would be an exception.

That he'd be able to reach back, that we'd twine together the way we were supposed to. That I'd know I could keep him, before I was forced to step away.

That peace I'd felt was gone as quickly as it had come. The flickering twists of the bond I'd felt fell away. Because I knew it was false. Reality was a cold, bitter thing.

I couldn't pick Jeffrey.

He wasn't a wolf.

Even if he made my heart sing, and my body light up.

"They do?" My heart ached. It ached for all that Jeffrey had been through. The fact that he'd suffered enough that he could confidently say that there was light at the end of the tunnel.

"They do," Jeffrey nodded, stronger now. "Shit happens, you know?" he offered. "And it hurts. And it haunts you. But…it always gets better." He pressed a kiss to my lips and it tasted like relief. "Just like hair grows."

"And wounds heal," I echoed, my voice rough.

"It's hard." Jeffrey's voice was full of emotion. It wasn't until he spoke again that I understood why he was so affected by his own words. Because they weren't his. They were mine—from weeks ago. "But one day it won't be." My heart hurt. "There will be a day when you forget the pain. When it is simply a memory."

"Wise words." My eyes burned. There wouldn't be time for me to move on, but again, I didn't say that. Because this felt pivotal, and I was honored to be here for such a precious moment.

"Some guy told me that," Jeffrey shrugged. "I've thought about it a lot."

"You have?" It was silly, but the fact that my comfort had so affected him meant more than I cared to admit.

"Every day," Jeffrey admitted. "He's pretty smart."

"He is?" No one had ever called me smart before.

"Hot too."

I jolted, a laugh bubbling up. I wasn't sure if he was trying to cheer me up or not, but he certainly was. "Really?" My tail thumped against the chair.

"Really, really."

"He's kinda perfect actually," Jeffrey added, his voice tight. "If dopey himbo werewolves are your type."

"Are they yours?" I didn't know what himbo was. I only knew dopey because of the dwarf from Snow White , but I got the sense that Jeffrey didn't mean it as an insult. In fact…if I listened to the thump, thump of his heart and the fizzy brightness of his scent, I knew it had been a compliment.

"Yeah," Jeffrey bumped our noses together, and my heart jerked in my chest. "They are."

My body hurt and my mind was a mess—but Jeffrey was right. Already, I felt better.

"You know…" Jeffrey trailed off, his eyes dark and searching. "Sometimes there are burdens that are too heavy for one person to carry." I had no doubt that it was hard for him to admit that. "You taught me that." He swallowed. "Because every time I open up to you, I feel lighter."

This wasn't the same kind of wound that left him aching, but still…his comfort meant the world. Wolves were tactile creatures. I couldn't count the amount of times my brothers and I had flopped together in a puppy pile as kids just because it felt right to do so. We craved warmth and pack and a sense of belonging.

Since the day I'd begun to go feral it had felt like the ties that connected me to my pack had begun to fade. They grew fainter and fainter, until one day they would simply snap. When Jeffrey touched me, I didn't feel that aching loss anymore. New ties formed, reaching for him, tangling around his heart where it beat strong and sure.

He couldn't be my mate.

He couldn't save my life.

But that didn't mean he hadn't saved me.

I grinned.

"You are so lovely," I said honestly, the ache in my body fading away as I curled tightly around him, tugging him in close. "The loveliest."

"Yeah, okay, Casanova." It was the second time he'd called me that.

"So smart, so brave, so strong—" I squeezed him and he was solid, and warm, and home. "You have healed my heart."

He felt like home.

"Ouch, easy on the goods—" Jeffrey cackled but his scent wasn't hurt. It was sunshine . He was sunshine. I squeezed him harder, hard enough I wished he'd leave an imprint on my body.

I got the feeling this was the first time Jeffrey had ever sympathized with himself.

And it was beautiful and humbling and wonderful all at once.

"You want some food now? Cold pizzas are still good. And the shit Blair makes is like…top tier," he offered, voice light. "How about a movie? I can give you a back rub. You look like you need it." Jeffrey smacked a kiss on my cheek and my head spun as I realized how different he was already. "I bought those bacon things you told me you like. And Pop Tarts. Chocolate ones."

"Chocolate?" I perked up. "I love chocolate."

"I know you do, big guy." Jeffrey slid off my lap and padded across the kitchen toward the cupboard. Jeffrey reached into the top cupboard, the hem of his shirt sliding up. There were finger-shaped bruises on his hips, and scratches from my claws. I groaned, immediately distracted, my heart settled once again.

He grabbed the box down and turned back around, leaning against the counter with a cocked eyebrow and a sexy smirk. Beautiful and bruised, both. "See something you like?"

"Everything," I replied immediately. Jeffrey laughed.

"Dork." Then he handed me the Pop Tarts and wandered off into the living room to set up the TV for a movie party. I watched him move around, my heart settled, the box he'd given me clutched gingerly in my grip. "Hey, I talked to Blair," Jeffrey said—scrounging around in the couch cushions for the remote. "Richard too. You know…about shit."

"You did?" I shoveled pizza into my mouth—figuring I'd save the treats for later.

Jeffrey kept talking, and the more he told me, the more proud of him I became. He was moving forward. No longer stuck. And the lost-lost-lost scent that had exuded from him when we'd first met was long gone.

It would take a while to heal.

Some wounds took longer than others.

But I had no doubt that one day Jeffrey would.

And the things that had felt impossible before would become as easy as breathing.

I hadn't been lying when I told him he was the most wonderful person I'd ever met. And every day I spent with him, that only became more apparent. I just wished…we had more time. Our clock had begun ticking the moment I'd followed him home. And I knew that. But that didn't mean it didn't hurt.

If all I got was one more smile, my choice would be worth every sacrifice.

There was no escaping the hurt now, and I may not have been a human like he was, but even I knew we'd crossed that line long ago.