4. Mutt

The day my moon mother betrayed me I was sixteen. The full moon was supposed to rise the following night and my skin itched and itched and itched. Pain ached in my veins, poisonous and all encompassing, and the world felt foreign—full of shapes I didn't recognize, visions through unfamiliar eyes.

That's how I knew something was wrong.

Because the moon had never hurt me before. She was my constant companion, hanging high or low, watching over me as I pranced through puphood to adolescence. Her steady glow had lit my fondest memories—nights rolling around in the leaves with my brothers. Hours chasing and running, with the scent of wet dirt in my nose, and pine needles beneath my paws. She had lent me light when I needed it most, lit my way when I was lost and lonely. Given me a family, a community, a home.

She was soft, cool blue edges—a second mother who looked down on me from the sky.

It had never occurred to me that she could turn her back on me.

The full moon had brought comfort before.

It meant time with my family when we were all one. Four paws, our instincts, and fur—the rest of the world forgotten as we became, for one night, what we were meant to be.

Those nights were pack-family-solace.

Safe-safe-safe.

But apparently that was over.

I'd felt no comfort then, as I'd laid in my bed and the sun began to shrink.

Because I could feel the moon before I even saw her—and I burned.

I burned.

I burned.

And as I burned and itched and itched, alone, sick, scared-scared-scared, I knew nothing would ever be the same again. Because I may be a wolf, but I was also an alpha, and like all young alphas, my timer had begun to tick. Before the sun had even sunk below the mountaintops I knew my second mother had forsaken me.

I shifted before the moon ever rose.

And it was fire.

And pain.

And black.

Black.

Black.

When I came back to myself I was in the basement of the main lodge at the compound. My mouth was dry, my paws ached, and I'd been lying on the cold concrete for so long I felt bruised. Or maybe that was the shift? Because this was my first alphashift—and I knew, before I'd heard my father enter the basement that something had gone wrong.

His eyes glinted in the dark as he stood at the top of the stairs.

When he descended, careful as ever, his scent was sorrow-loss-worry.

He loosened the manacles on my ankles and wrists, silent.

Dad was hardly ever silent.

But he wasn't my dad right then.

No.

He was my Pack Alpha.

And he knew…as well as I did, that my clock had just started ticking. And one day—in the near future—I was going to lose myself, unless I found a mate.

PRESENT DAY

"I need your pants."

"You need my?—"

"I need your pants," I repeated, staring at my brother, Butters, with what I hoped was a convincing expression. To his credit, he didn't question me a second time. Didn't even blink, despite the fact I'd yanked him off the street into an alley and I was currently standing naked in front of him, smelling like distress-need-help.

"Sure," Butters shrugged, his big shoulders going up and down as he began tugging his clothes off as directed. God, could he be any slower? I asked for your pants, not your whole wardrobe. My hands shook, clenching into fists as my heart thumped unsteadily.

C'mon, c'mon, c'mon.

Butters shucked off his pants last, and I snatched them up, yanking them on—and then his shirt, because he had been kind enough to give me both. I hadn't been thinking properly, but he had. Humans were weird about nudity. He stared at me all the while, as his phone and the keys to our shared home rattled in his—now my—pocket.

He didn't ask for either item back, and I didn't think to give them over—my head was too tangled, thoughts of Jeffrey spinning, spinning, spinning.

He needs me.

Hurry, hurry.

"Thanks," I grunted out before I dove out of the alley and ducked down the street, back the direction I'd come from.

I wasn't sure why Butters was out and about. Probably out on a snack run, or doing…Butters-y things, like hunting squirrels (a hobby we both shared) or trying to wrestle the biggest men he came across. He preferred his wolfskin like I did, so it had been more than a little lucky that he'd been out and about wearing clothes at all.

Jeffrey needs me.

Jeffrey needs me.

Jeffrey needs me.

Too slow, too slow, too slow.

I picked up the pace, bare feet pounding the pavement as Butters clothes clung to me like a glove. We'd always been similar in size. Similar in appearance too—though he was broader faced, and blonder than I was.

It made sense, as we shared blood—but still.

So close?—

Just gotta round this corner and then?—

There.

There.

He was still there.

Suddenly, I could breathe again.

Jeffrey was where I'd last seen him, in an alleyway several blocks away from where I'd hunted Butters down. His broad shoulders were curled in, tight with tension, his body minutely quaking. If I was human, I probably wouldn't have been able to see it. But I wasn't human.

I saw the way he was holding himself together as tightly as he could.

Saw his cracks and splinters.

My beautiful love who reeked of anguish-lonely-scared, though his body language projected nothing but calm to the untrained eye. The coppery bright scent of blood filled my nostrils, and I scanned him quickly for injuries, standing like an idiot in the mouth of the alley, terrified.

He's hurt.

He's hurt.

He's—

There.

My eyes narrowed when I saw the state of his hands.

Knuckles bloodied, scraped raw.

A wounded sound escaped me, unbidden—and Jeffrey startled, twisting around to look at me as I stood motionless, shocked. I took another sniff of the air, certain I must've missed something, only to realize that I had not. The only person that had been in here aside from Jeffrey was me.

So why…were his hands like that?

It didn't make sense.

There had been no foe he was fighting, not like the other night when I'd broken my own rule and approached him. How could his hands be so torn up, unless?—

Unless he…

Unless he?—

Oh.

He'd hurt himself.

It was the only logical conclusion, but one that was illogical all the same.

Normally, I knew better than to approach a wounded animal if it could still move on its own. They could smell what I was from a mile off and though I'd always been gentle with my paws, and hands, I knew what sort of effect my bulk and overall essence had on creatures smaller than I was.

I was frightening.

I knew that.

But still—I approached, unable to help myself as Jeffrey continued to stare at me, and my heart threatened to beat right out of my chest.

I knew this was my fault.

I knew he'd been looking for me.

I just…hadn't known what to do.

He wasn't supposed to find me at all. Last night I'd been there to protect him, as promised, but when he'd opened the front door it was like every plan I'd had melted away. He'd welcomed me in, because of course he had, and like an idiot, I'd thought things would be fine.

That I'd leave the moment I could, and go back to watching over him from the shadows.

But then he'd looked for me.

Even now, he was looking for me.

And I couldn't do this to him.

Which was why I'd enlisted Butters and his pants for help, and why I was here—now, hunting him back, even though it was stupid. So fucking stupid. And he couldn't help me. Couldn't save me. Couldn't be what I needed.

But maybe I could be what he needed.

At least, today.

"Fuck off," Jeffrey's voice was rough and quaking as I slowly, carefully crossed the empty alley. When I stepped into his space, close enough our chests brushed, his nostrils flared. His mouth said "fuck off" but his eyes said, help me . They said, I'm lost, lost, lost. And his scent was relief-please-lonely-lonely-lonely.

I had never met anyone in my life who needed an alpha more than Jeffrey Prince.

The tremors in his body were more obvious up close. As was the haunted, wild look in his eyes—like there were demons flitting behind them. Beneath the riot of emotions that flooded the air, I caught his comforting musk, the salty burst of sweat, the effervescent bubbly orange of his natural scent.

I wanted to roll around in it.

To lick and rub and stick my dick inside it.

I wanted to bite and nip and lick and suck—to taste and smell, and feel every inch of his body. But I didn't do any of those things. Because it wasn't what he needed. And once was already more than I'd told myself I could have.

"It is okay," I reassured. And then I wrapped my arms around Jeffrey's body and pulled him in tight. He didn't go willingly—stiff as a board at first, his bloody hands hanging limply at his sides. "I am here."

For ten agonizing seconds I worried I'd gotten this wrong.

That he didn't feel the same relief I did when we were together.

That while I knew he was my fated mate, to him, I was a stranger—and a scary one at that. Someone who had taken him, then disappeared, only to corner him in an alleyway when he was alone.

It didn't matter that the moon had played a trick on me. That his soul should not have called to me the way it did. It didn't matter that this was not something I had planned. That I had intended to protect him from a distance, and not up close. Because at that moment, I couldn't think.

I could only act.

I worried I'd gotten this wrong?—

But then…like a brittle twig during dry season, Jeffrey snapped. Bit by bit, he melted into my embrace. His fluffy orange hair tickled my nose as he tucked his face inside my neck and the minute tremors in his body vibrated against me.

Relieved it no longer felt like he was about to run, I rubbed a hand up and down his back, nuzzling at his temple, a pleased rumble bubbling up inside my chest.

I wanted to ask him what was wrong—but I already knew what was wrong.

I'd left him.

And yet…here I was. Beside him once again, like I hadn't decided to stay away for both of our own good. Mama had raised me on fairy tales. Stories of princes and knights, of happily ever afters. It didn't feel natural to leave Jeffrey, even though it was the smart choice to make. Especially when it was my fault he was hurting in the first place.

Ever since I was a pup, I'd dreamed of the day I'd pick my mate and we'd rule the pack together. I would glance through the catalogs Dad brought home, hearts in my eyes, my tail wagging.

I knew that was my destiny.

Because that's what alphas have to do.

And yet…here I was. Wrapped around my very human fated mate. A man who should not have made my heart sing, but did. A man who was confusing, arousing, and mine-mine-mine in a way that nothing ever had been before. A man that I could not keep, no matter how badly I wanted to, because keeping him would mean my death.

I'd promised myself I was only here to protect him.

That watching from afar would be enough.

But it wasn't.

It wasn't.

Because there was no way I was giving this up—at least…not until I had to.

Eventually, Jeffrey's arms curled around me in return. His grip was weak—especially for a man of his size—but it was welcome all the same. He may have been muscular himself, large in all the ways that counted, but my mate was prey, and there was no denying that. And he seemed to know that too if the plume of near-constant fearscent that exuded from him was an indicator.

We hugged for a long time.

For long enough the sun sank low and the moon began to climb high into the sky.

He didn't cry.

And his bloody knuckles left smears on the back of my borrowed shirt.

When his stomach growled, I gently peeled my head away from where it'd been buried in his hair for the last hour. For so long I'd avoided speaking, it felt unnatural and odd—but when I was with Jeffrey my words came easy.

"Are you hungry?" I asked, shocked by how low and rough my voice sounded.

Jeffrey shook his head, but his stomach growled, betraying him again. "I'm not hungry." I could hear the lie in his words.

"I am," I said, because it was true. I was always hungry.

"Oh…" His voice was quiet. Like he was terrified of taking up too much space. Like he wasn't sure who or what he was—lost as his eyes told me he was. "You can go if you want to."

Why would I ? —

Oh.

It took me a second to replay the conversation and realize what I'd said and what it might imply. Damn. Humans were tricky. He couldn't smell my intent, or hear my heartbeat. Which meant I had to be as literal as possible, and even then, I might mess up—like I just had.

"I am hungry and I am feeding you." There. That was better.

"You…are?" Jeffrey blinked up at me, those lovely eyes searching mine like I was a beacon on a stormy sea. Dark brown. The color of freshly turned soil. My favorite color probably—in all the world. Wolves did not have brown eyes. I was used to blues, purples, gold—variations, yes, but the same three shades.

Brown was foreign.

But it was lovely too.

Unable to help myself, I curled a hand around the corner of his jaw, tipping his head up so I could see him better. His scent shifted then, turning musky and sweet. My cock jerked, immediately rising to the occasion. Unable to help myself, I licked my lips.

He likes being touched.

"You are so pretty," I murmured. "Pretty, pretty, sweet Jeffrey."

It wasn't the first time I'd called him that, but he wasn't cum-drunk and bitch-hazy this time, so he didn't react the way I'd hoped.

Jeffrey scoffed and his scent soured. He jerked his head out of my grip, though I smelled the loss he felt the second we no longer touched. So I grabbed him again—maneuvering him back into place. When I had him under control, I released a pleased rumble. Immediately, he settled for me—and his scent became musky sweet all over again.

I was glad then that I hadn't given Butters his wallet back.

I didn't carry money of my own—I felt no need.

The land had fed me all my life, and I hardly partook in human things like restaurants. For most of my life, the compound hadn't had anything of the sort. And even if it did, I never would've gone there. I'd never in my life walked up to a counter and ordered a meal. But I would today. For Jeffrey.

Using Butters money.

I sniffed out the diner before I saw it, tugging Jeffrey along the night-dark street as the residents began to wake up. During the day, Elmwood was a ghost town, as most of its inhabitants were fanged-ones. They smelled off. A hint of smoke and bitterness that masked the usual heat-musk-salt that humans exuded.

Still, I ignored the unpleasant odor, keeping my touch gentle as I steered Jeffrey toward the scent of grease, and my own stomach growled.

He was quiet again.

And I let him be.

After leaving him alone and frightening him earlier I didn't deserve his sweet words—even though his voice was music, and every time he opened his mouth it made my heart sing. I would have to do better.

I would do better.

Even if it meant rethinking my master plan.

Because doing better was a choice I could make—even if keeping him wasn't.

When we pushed into the diner an awful jingle sounded. I jolted, immediately yanking Jeffrey behind me, a menacing growl escaping as I scanned the room for threats. It only took a second to recognize the awful cling—and see that it had come from a bell above the door.

Relaxing, I twisted to make sure Jeffrey was alright—more than a little surprised to find he was staring at me.

Staring at me and smiling .

My tail popped out. I couldn't help it. It thwapped happily as I beamed back at him, just as brightly. My pants, as always, slipped down to accommodate its length. Not that I was used to wearing pants, because I was not. I hated them actually. With a burning passion.

"You are safe," I told him proudly.

"From the door," he echoed, the iciness in his voice melting away.

"Yes."

"…Thanks?"

"You are welcome!" When I sniffed him, his scent told me he was amused . I didn't mind being the butt of a joke if it meant I had made him happy. Even though I didn't understand what about protecting him he'd found so funny. It was still success.

My tail continued to wag as I cut through the line of people gathered at the front and pulled Jeffrey with me.

"Hello. I would like food," I told the colorful woman at the counter after shoving a man aside. "Here is my wallet." I pulled out the wallet, leaning against the counter and exuding as much confidence as I could muster as I passed her the…very beat up—I squinted at it—leather rectangle.

She was tiny and her hair was blue.

Which was odd.

Was that normal?

I cocked my head at her, though most of my attention was still on Jeffrey who was—laughing at my side. Laughing. Again .

"Thank you," the girl said gently, accepting the wallet—like she should— I think . She opened it up, then frowned at me. "Was there a certain kind of food you wanted?" She also smelled amused.

There was silly paper money inside, which she counted as she waited for me to speak.

The man I'd shoved, that stood behind me, huffed something about cutting a line, but I didn't know what that meant—or care about him—so I pretended not to hear.

The blue-haired girl passed me a large rectangular…paper thing that was sitting beside her on the counter. I opened it, scanning it and recognizing some of the pictures on it as food items I'd had before when Harry brought take-out home.

It reminded me of the catalogs I'd looked at back home with wolves on them. Like you could just flip through and pick what you wanted—and that was that. Or the rectangular paper thing the funny man with the mustache and the pink shirt had placed on the table in Lady and the Tramp before the dogs had kissed.

Recognizing what the itemized list of food was, however, didn't mean I knew what anything was called—or how to read it. So I closed the damn thing and handed it back.

"I want something good," I told her seriously. "Do you have squirrel?"

"Do I have…squirrel?" she repeated, her eyes dancing. She turned her attention to Jeffrey and I growled, side-stepping in front of him to block him from view.

"Yes," I repeated, frowning when I realized by putting myself between Jeffrey and the girl I'd forced him right next to the disgruntled man behind us. So I jerked him in front of me again, figuring she was the lesser of two evils as she would have to climb over the counter to reach him and I could incapacitate her before that happened.

Jeffrey's scent was amused-happy-pleased, so I couldn't have been getting this entirely wrong. His eyes were crinkled at the corners, and his spots looked particularly fetching in this light. I hadn't seen him up close like this in bright light. At least…not in this form. It was different.

"He is pretty," I explained to her dreamily because it was true, still blocking Jeffrey from view of the rest of the restaurant with my bulk. "And must be protected."

"I don't have squirrel , unfortunately. And yes, he is, and should," she agreed, eyes crinkling. She was agreeing with me, but I wasn't sure I liked that. Was this a flirt? I was flirting. She should not be flirting. That was my job.

Jeffrey was mine .

I growled at her, "No." I frowned. "You don't get to say that too. Only I do."

"Ooookay," she hummed, twisting to look at Jeffrey again. "Jeffrey," she said—and I jolted, rigid, when I realized they knew each other. "What do you want to eat, baby?"

Baby?

He was not an infant.

I glared at her, but my gaze softened when Jeffrey began to speak. The haunted quality to his tone was missing, and his voice was warm. His fingers wrapped around my wrist where I bracketed him against the counter.

"How about two cheeseburgers?" he said, voice soft. "You know what," he glanced at me, gaze traveling from head to toe. His tongue flickered out to wet his lips and his scent was hungry. My cock jerked, and I clenched my hands into fists, using all the self-control I possessed so that I wouldn't pin him to the counter so he could feel it. "Make that three."

The blue-haired woman pulled several paper moneys out of Butters's wallet and handed the rest back to me along with a few coins. "Here's your change, baby," she said, addressing me this time.

"Th-thank you." I pocketed it again, frowning—confused. I didn't understand why she'd given me money back? I thought I was paying for dinner.

I suppose I must've done it right though, because Jeffrey didn't look offended.

He picked us a booth—and because he was smart-good-strong he chose the booth that would offer us the best room of the diner and all its exits. With our backs to the wall, we settled into our little corner to wait.

Jeffrey picked at the peeling linoleum on the table, his eyes on me—but he didn't speak. His knuckles had crusted over, the blood no longer fresh. I was tempted to lean across the table to lap at them to help them heal, but he looked so serious I didn't want to break his focus.

He watched me.

Like he was trying to figure me out, and he wasn't certain how.

I sat up straighter, my ears and tail perking up as I puffed up to my full height so he'd have something to look at. He snorted in amusement, like he somehow knew what I was doing. Then he cocked his head to the side, and leaned his chin on his palm.

"What's your name?" he asked, voice soft.

"Mutt." I jolted a little, tail thumping as my hands grew slick with nerves as I revealed to him the name I'd chosen.

"Mutt, hmm," he repeated, his brow furrowing a bit in thought. Just hearing my name on his tongue sent me spinning. It sounded like music . Jeffrey had the kind of voice that was prettier than bird song. Smooth, melodic, natural in the way only a rushing stream or tinkling waterfall could be. "You got a last name, Mutt?"

"Last…name?" I blinked, not sure what he meant. "I guess I don't…like it when my brothers call me stupid."

"Wh—" Jeffrey snorted out a laugh. "That's not what I—You know what? Never mind." He grinned and it sent butterflies rioting in my belly. His shoulders flexed as he moved, and my mouth went dry. "I don't like being called stupid either."

"That is why it is the name I like last," I explained, in case that was why he smelled and looked so amused. "It is awful."

"Yeah, it is." Jeffrey agreed, because he was smart and good and lovely. A lock of his copper hair fell across his brow, somehow only managing to make him look even more handsome. Like a prince in one of the fairy tales I used to watch.

He was a prince in a tower built from his own fear, and I wanted to save him.

He moved gracefully, like a dancer. There was power in each flick of his wrists, in each twist of his powerful upper body. Though leaner than I was, there was no denying the muscle that was packed tight to Jeffrey's body. It was the kind of muscle that took years to build, especially on someone like him who—while tall—had a more willowy figure.

Despite this…he was self-conscious.

He held himself now, like he was frightened of being seen.

And I ached for him.

Ached for what had to have happened to him for him to feel this way.

"Why are you sad?" I blurted, even though I knew. I just…maybe I needed to hear it confirmed? Or maybe I wanted to offer solutions. I don't know.

"My dog ran off," he said, picking at the table, eyes downturned.

"W-why?" God, if he were a wolf I'd have been so screwed. He'd have been able to sniff out my deception in a heartbeat.

"I…don't know," he said softly. "Well," he amended, shrugging. "The vet maybe? I dunno. Not like he could know that's where we were going. Dogs don't read."

"Smells," I offered immediately—because I couldn't help it. "He could smell it."

"He could…smell it," Jeffrey repeated, frowning. "Huh. That's what I worried about."

"Vets smell like chemicals," I offered helpfully. "Very bad. Gross. Awful. And all the different animals. Maybe he got overwhelmed?" The smells hadn't been what had overwhelmed me. But I just…I wanted to give him something. Something that would help him feel less alone.

"Too bad there's no such thing as an at-home vet," Jeffrey huffed, scrubbing a hand over his face, looking dejected. "Could've avoided this entirely."

"I could help," I blurted out. Jeffrey's eyebrows shot up. "Not me," I amended quickly. "I know…a vet. Or at least—someone who works with animals."

"Huh." Jeffrey eyed me warily.

"When your dog comes back I could send him over."

"You mean if ?" Jeffrey sighed, the weight of the world on his shoulders. " If my dog comes back."

"No, I mean when ," I corrected, voice soft. "He'd be stupid not to."

Jeffrey's cheeks flushed and he ducked his head, obviously pleased. "I dunno about that."

"I'll send help over," I blurted, heart thumping.

"But—"

"If the dog is not back, you can send him home."

"…okay," Jeffrey looked pensive, but somewhat cheered up. And that was good. I'd fixed it, hadn't I? At least a little.

I shouldn't have run.

"Tomorrow at eight," I said, heart thumping.

"Yeah…I guess," Jeffrey relaxed a little, obviously less worried.

"Why a vet?" I asked, because I couldn't help it. "Does your dog not look healthy?" I was more than a little curious, and that probably showed.

Jeffrey shook his head. "No, I just…I mean, I've never had a dog. I thought it was the right thing to do, you know? Gotta take care of him."

I nodded, heart thumping harder. This made sense. The Jeffrey I'd met at the gas station when he'd been passing through Colorado had been a caregiver. Of course he'd be immediately concerned.

"You are noble," I told him. "A good man. Very good."

"I dunno about that," Jeffrey shook his head, but he looked…pleased, and his smell was happy-satisfied-grateful.

Things were going…well.

Far better than I had even hoped.

Jeffrey may have been human, but he carried my favorite wolf traits. He was observant. More observant than most of my brothers. A very attractive trait.

"That man has refilled his fizzy juice?—"

"Seven times," Jeffrey finished for me, staring at the same man I was. I laughed, because he was right. "He's only been here twenty minutes. Dude's chugging that shit." I grinned at him, eyes narrowing as he covertly tested me. "And that woman—" Jeffrey jerked his head toward a woman all the way across the restaurant. "She?—"

"Has sneezed six times." She sneezed again. "Seven."

Jeffrey grinned. "You think she has allergies?"

"Allergies?" I squinted at him.

"You know, like…when your body reacts badly to something. Usually flowers and shit."

"Humans are allergic to flowers?" I asked, aghast.

"Humans are allergic to a lot of things," Jeffrey replied sagely.

With every mutual observation we made, the space between us lessened. Jeffrey grew more animated, more warm. Like he was incredibly excited to have finally met someone as judgy as he was.

"I mean…ten times. Ten times by the time he left," he giggled to himself, shoveling food into his mouth. "Who needs that much soda?"

I shook my head, because I did not know. But I loved the face he was making and did not want him to stop making it.

The food was good. Surprisingly so. And Jeffrey was far more astute than I'd given him credit for because he had been correct, one burger was absolutely not enough. I plowed through the first in a matter of seconds as we sat in our little diner booth, knees bumping, elbows on the table.

Jeffrey ate like a bird does. Little tiny bites. Like he was worried about making a mess.

Which made me slow down a little, because I didn't want to finish way before he did. When he grabbed a napkin and dabbed at his mouth, I frowned, then mimicked him, pleased when his scent shifted again. Happy. As he looked at me.

My napkin was a lot dirtier than his.

"So," Jeffrey said after he'd neatly wiped his mouth. I chewed my newest bite eagerly, eyes lighting up as I waited to see what he was going to ask. "You're from Elmwood?"

I frowned, confused. "No."

"No?"

My tail thumped against the seat as I shook my head. "I am from Colorado. The mountains. It is green and good. There are many plants and animals. It is safe." I wasn't sure why I was trying to hype up my home, as Jeffrey would never visit it—despite how badly I wanted him to—but I couldn't seem to stop. "You would like it."

"So why are you here?"

"Business." I felt very important telling him that, my chest puffing up. I wanted to tell him that I was here for him . And only him. That was why I'd convinced Dad to let us set up a compound here. But…even I knew that would be too much too soon.

I couldn't tell him I'd wanted to protect him.

To watch over him from afar.

It might frighten him.

Like a forward thinking chipmunk, I would keep some nuts in my cheeks for later.

"Business?" Jeffrey frowned at me, taking another bite of his food as he mulled this over. He dabbed his mouth again when he was done. "Business like…werewolf business?"

I was relieved then, to know for certain that he knew what I was.

"Yes," I told him, heart dancing.

"Like what?" Jeffrey arched an eyebrow, his scent skeptical. "What kinda business does a werewolf from Colorado have in Elmwood, Maine?"

"We are setting up a new compound," I told him. "A home for our pack," I added, because I wasn't certain he knew what I was talking about. "We are growing too fast for our current space. There are negotiations that need to be finalized with the local pack and council, but soon things here will be more permanent. Right now, it is just me and my brothers, but one day soon it will be half our pack. And it will be beautiful ."

That was the most I'd ever talked all in a row.

It was exhausting .

"So…you're staying here?" Jeffrey peeked up at me through his lashes, an almost shy look on his face. It was so different from the flirty apathy I'd seen on him at the club—or the blank-faced sadness I'd seen in the alleyway. "Like indefinitely?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat, suddenly at a loss for words all over again.

Because I knew what he was asking.

And I couldn't give him the answer we both wanted.

"Till January," I said instead. The truth. "Then I'm going back home."

"Oh."

Jeffrey was silent the rest of the meal.

When we walked out onto the night-dark street his scent was murky enough I couldn't recognize the emotions. He did, however, smile at me. And it was summer soft—his dark eyes full of warmth as he gently bumped our shoulders together before twisting away.

"Thanks for dinner, man. And the hug." His cheeks went bright red. "It was good to see you…you know. Without bumping uglies." He bit his lip, then added, almost bashfully, "you're cool."

"I am not cool," I frowned. "It is very hot outside."

"Too true," Jeffrey laughed, like I'd said something funny. "You said tomorrow at eight, right? For your vet friend?"

I nodded, my heart in my throat. He was gorgeous, glittering beneath the streetlamp, that lovely bright hair practically glowing.

"Sweet. I guess I'll…um…see you around?"

"You will," I promised.

And I meant every word.