6. Mutt

In my defense, I've never been the best at forward thinking. Hell, if we're being really honest, I'd never been the best at thinking in general—despite the fact that my thoughts were all I had most days, and that's how I liked it. Which was why…I'd now been parading as a dog for almost an entire month.

My first moon had passed, and while it had been difficult—it always was—it'd been easier than usual. Like the calm before the storm. Jeffrey hadn't batted an eye when I'd disappeared for several days, just simply let me back inside his home and offered me more of the awful round brown pebbles humans thought were food.

Fall had come with a vengeance.

And with it, came the cold chill of reality.

Because I didn't know what the fuck I was doing. And every day that passed dug me deeper in that hole. But I couldn't seem to stop.

I just… couldn't.

Dad warned me about hunger once.

He told me it would eat me alive if I let it. I listened, yeah—I had always listened. But I'd be the first to admit that I didn't understand. I didn't know there were two kinds of hunger. The kind that's easy to sate with a warm meal, or a warm bed—and the kind that tears you apart from the inside out.

One was predictable.

One was ravenous, and all-encompassing.

Dad had warned me but I didn't understand.

Not till the day I'd met Jeffrey.

Till the day I saw him standing there, looking prettier than sunshine, and I knew as surely as I knew the moon had forsaken me that I couldn't have him.

He'd been dappled with rain water, dressed in a hoodie pulled low over his face. Shadows hid his eyes from view, but it only took a single sniff to know he was human. The only feature on his face that I could see clearly were his lips. Soft. Pink. Relaxed into a gentle frown. There were spots that dotted his creamy, lovely skin. Freckles. That's what humans called them. A few of them crept onto his lips from where they splattered his jaw, and I was…lost.

I knew hunger then.

Unquenchable.

A thirst that burned me from the inside out.

As I stood on the edge of the parking lot, hidden inside shadows of my own, I ached. I ached because I couldn't do what I wanted. Couldn't cross the asphalt and push him to the ground like I wanted. Couldn't take him, then and there, like he needed to be taken.

Because if he was my fated—and he was, it only took one sniff to confirm that—he needed me as much as I needed him.

It'd seemed only logical to follow him then.

To approach, to taste that smell up close.

To sate the itch beneath my skin and the ache in my very bones.

But that had only been the beginning.

Then, just like now, I hadn't thought through my actions. Hadn't thought ahead to what obstacles might fall along my path. Planning was not my forte.

Case in point.

I was locked inside Jeffrey's truck in the middle of a busy parking lot full of humans. The tall building that rose high above casted shadows, and the brisk fall chill made the temperature inside the vehicle rather pleasant. Being left behind shouldn't have been a big deal.

It wouldn't have been.

Except for the fact that the building I was currently stuck outside of was apparently a head doctor. I wasn't sure what it was called. I'd heard a few whispers from other occupants of the building, something about therapy—a new word for me—or psycho-lo-gi-sists. Something like that.

I hadn't been alarmed at first, because I hadn't known what any of those words were.

I hadn't been alarmed till I heard Jeffrey greet a woman he called "Doctor Mason" and suddenly realized I was privy to a conversation that I should not be hearing. I couldn't see him. Obviously. Super hearing did not mean I could see through concrete. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't block out his voice coming from a cracked window on the second floor. Couldn't shift and force the door open either—not with so many humans present.

I was stuck.

I was stuck.

And I could only blame myself.

"How are you this week, Jeffrey?" an unfamiliar woman's voice asked.

"Fine," Jeffrey replied immediately. I heard the skip in his heartbeat though, and I was suddenly sick with the need to comfort him. To lap at his fingers the way I had the previous night when he'd had a nightmare.

"How are you really?" The woman, "Doctor Mason" probably, asked.

"I…" Jeffrey's heart thumped unsteadily for a moment, betraying his nerves. "I'm…okay. Better. Kind of?"

"What's caused the change?" she asked, her voice light and soft. The kinda voice that reminded me of cinnamon rolls and women who smelled like happy-mother-calm. Like my own mother.

"I found a dog?" Jeffrey answered, then laughed. "I mean… More accurately, he found me."

"Good for you, having a pet is a lot of responsibility," she hummed, and she truly sounded like she meant it. "I remember you mentioning last session that you never had a pet growing up."

"Lydia doesn't— didn't like animals," Jeffrey agreed and his tone was sad-sad. "She said they were messy." Who is Lydia?

"This must be exciting for you," she asked, voice still gentle. "That you have something you've always wanted? Something you were denied. How does it make you feel?"

"Good…I think?" I hated how nervous Jeffrey sounded, like he wasn't quite sure what words to use. It was different from the way he talked to me. Different from the way he'd talked to the short one who smelled like apples. Because obviously, I'd been eavesdropping after I left him at the vet's office, trying to make sure he was okay.

The short-apple-one had said, "You know I don't blame you, right?"

He'd said, "You deserve to be happy."

He'd said, "It's time to move on."

And Jeffrey had agreed but his scent was sour, sour, sour, and his heart was full of lies.

There were no lies in his words now. Not when he was talking to this doctor person. Like she'd gotten beneath his shell and to the doughy soft bits inside.

I didn't know why Jeffrey felt he didn't deserve happiness.

Didn't know why he smelled like guilt-love-protect when he was with the short-apple-one.

But I had the feeling…I was about to find out.

"How's Blair?" the doctor asked.

I didn't need to see Jeffrey's face to hear the tension in his voice. "He's good. Happy."

"And that makes you…" she waited until he answered, a few awkward beats passing.

"Scared."

"Right," the doctor agreed, like they'd talked about it before. "We've touched on that before, but you weren't ready to talk about it. Are you feeling more ready now?"

"I…" Jeffrey sucked in a breath. "No." His heart was galloping. I ached for him. I couldn't leave the cab, but I paced as best I could across the seats, restless. "Can we talk about something else?"

"What would you like to talk about?"

"I don't know. Just not… that . I'm not…I just. I can't. Not yet."

"That's perfectly fine," the doctor's voice was gentle. "We've got time."

Jeffrey laughed, but it was a bitter sound. "Do we? Because I want to get better. Like…yesterday. I'm so fucking tired of feeling like this. I'm sick of coming here—and talking about things I hate talking about. I'm sick of the fact that I have shit I need assistance working through."

"You resent therapy."

"I resent needing help ." His voice was tight. "I'm…not used to it." His voice cracked at the end.

I thought of how good he'd felt in my arms. How right. How his scent was happiness-mate-home even when he was hurting. How he made my skin feel too tight, and my blood sing.

How desperately he'd needed comfort that day, and how glad I was that I had been there to give it—even though it was my fault he'd needed it in the first place.

"Why is that, do you think?" the doctor asked.

There was a long pause, and I knew—I knew there was no going back from this. There was no forgetting these words. No forgetting the raw honesty that fell from Jeffrey's tongue. No forgetting the acid in his tone and the fear that quaked within every syllable.

"I…" Jeffrey sucked in another breath. "I'm just… not ." He sounded so small. So very small.

"Because of Lydia?" Doctor Mason guessed.

"Yeah." Even that single word sounded painful.

"You're used to being the one who is needed," the doctor sussed out. "It is difficult for you to accept a role that isn't protector."

"…yeah," Jeffrey agreed, voice still rough. "I think so. I…" Jeffrey paused for a second, gathering his thoughts. "Do I have to talk about this?"

"If you have something to share, it might help me understand how to help more."

Jeffrey blew out a breath. "Right. Okay." He was silent again for a few seconds, and when he spoke my heart ached anew. "For so long…looking after Blair was all I had. It's the only part of myself I still like—and doesn't feel totally foreign."

"Having crises of identity is understandable given what you've been through."

What had he been through?

"When Lydia…kidnapped me?—"

My thoughts screeched to a halt.

Kidnapped. Kidnapped ? What did he mean kidnapped?

"As a kid," Jeffrey continued as if he hadn't just shattered my brain into tiny little pieces. "There were all these…rules." He spoke slow and soft, as if he was far, far away—trapped inside his own head. "I wasn't allowed to talk to Blair about who I was before. I had to wear the clothes she picked out for me. Had to use the name that she'd given me. Had to pretend like Oregon wasn't a new and…scary place."

"That must've been frightening, especially when you were so young."

"It was." Jeffrey's voice wavered. "She promised me…a lot of things. So I went with her? And it was a stupid choice—and I get that now, I really do. But at the time, I just wanted someone to care about me. To need me. To…love me." The doctor was silent, like she didn't want to interrupt when he was finally opening up, and I was grateful. Because Jeffrey's words were spinning around inside my head, and my stomach was churning—and I…

Didn't.

Know.

What.

To.

Do.

This was a private conversation, and one I shouldn't be listening to. But there was nothing I could do but wait.

"To…think I was special."

"Those are normal things to want," the doctor said softly. "There is no shame in that."

"Yeah, there is," Jeffrey's voice wavered. "Because she never gave me any of them."

"But Blair did," she murmured.

"Yeah," I could hear the tears in his voice, but knew already none would come. Jeffrey didn't cry, even when his body wanted him to. Even when his body shook and shook and shook. Like it had been trained out of him. "Blair became my little brother. I did everything for him. My entire life revolved around trying to keep him out of harms way—or…or cheering him up after another fight with Lydia. He needed me. And we survived her together." He sounded hoarse. Quiet. "But now she's gone—and we're here and I?—"

"You're afraid that if you are the one that needs help, you'll no longer be of use."

"Right." Jeffrey's voice was choked. "Can we…please just…can we just?—"

"Why don't you tell me about your dog?" the doctor asked, and I sagged in relief, grateful she'd stopped pressing so hard at a wound he so obviously still had. My thoughts continued to spin, my tail still.

"I think my dog is really a wolf," Jeffrey managed.

I jolted, alarmed. My ears flattened, then perked back up so I could hear better, my own heart pounding. Had he already figured me out? Fuck. Was this a good thing? A bad thing? I didn't know.

"Interesting."

"But…" Jeffrey trailed off. "A small part of me is worried that I can't trust myself, that I'm just being paranoid."

"Do you often suffer from paranoia?"

"Yeah," Jeffrey's voice was tight again.

"Would you mind sharing some examples?"

"I don't…know." Jeffrey sounded ashamed, and I hated it.

"I think you do know," her voice was gentle. "There's no need to be embarrassed. This is a safe space, and none of this is going to leave the room. I'm here to help you, not judge you."

"I know," Jeffrey snorted out a laugh.

"I'm not your enemy here."

"I…know." That was more reluctant. "It's just…I'm not used to admitting any of this. I try not to think about it."

"Maybe that's part of the problem." Her voice was still gentle—which I was realizing was important. Jeffrey was a cornered animal, his hackles raised, and she was approaching with her hands out—surrender already evident. It was the only way to get him to relax. "Acknowledging what's going on is half the battle, sometimes even more than that."

"Oh." Jeffrey sucked in another ragged breath. "I…"

"Take your time."

"Easy for you to say," Jeffrey joked. "You're not the one that has to get brain-fucked for an hour then figure out how to survive after."

"Is that how this feels for you?"

"I…guess." Jeffrey obviously hadn't meant to admit that. "Fuck." He sucked in another breath, obviously gathering strength. My tail wagged, pride thrumming in my body. My smart, resilient, wonderful Jeffrey. Brave. Brave. Brave. "Okay. I…feel like people are following me."

Guilt churned in my stomach.

Because I was most definitely the person that had been following him.

I only left his side to interact with my brothers and the pack we were setting up an alliance with. Other than that, whether I was in humanskin or wolfskin, I was always beside him. Even if he didn't know it.

I figured we didn't have much time. And I'd spend all I could with him, protecting him.

I'd promised .

"Is that a constant feeling for you?" she clarified.

"Yeah," Jeffrey sighed, sounding exhausted. "It never turns off."

"What about at home?"

"That's the only place I feel somewhat safe."

"Why do you think that is?"

"I…" Jeffrey sighed, struggling for a minute to find his words again. It was odd. Over the last couple months, spanning both before and after we'd officially met, I'd noticed he had a silver tongue. He always knew exactly what to say—and how to say it to get the desired result. This stilted, awkward conversation was completely out of character.

Or at least…I'd thought it was.

Now I was starting to wonder if the smooth-talking, flirty version of my mate was the fake one. He certainly lied more.

"I guess it's because it's mine?" Jeffrey's voice was quiet. "And I've put locks up and shit, you know, to keep myself safe."

"Locks?"

"Bolt locks."

"Right." There were a few scratching sounds that I figured were probably a pen on paper.

"And you feel like your paranoia is affecting how you feel about your dog?" Doctor Mason cycled back. Jeffrey made an affirmative noise. "Perhaps…this is an opportunity for you to practice trust."

"I…"

"Sometimes a dog is just a dog, Jeffrey," the doctor continued, voice gentle. "Sometimes we feel eyes on us, not because we're being chased or stalked but because as humans it is natural to simply attract attention. You've mentioned that your looks have often affected how you are perceived. That you receive more attention than you are comfortable with because of them. Perhaps the eyes you feel are because of that. I know that is hard to believe because of your background and the fear that has been instilled inside you from a young age."

Because of Lydia.

"But this could be an opportunity for you to let loose a little. Let go of those reins you've had to hold on so tightly to."

Jeffrey was silent for a few minutes. A couple passed by the truck, and I barked at them to scare them off, their chatter interrupting my eavesdropping. I wasn't supposed to be listening in. But now that I'd heard what I had—there was no going back.

I might as well commit.

The couple scurried off, eyeing me warily as I settled down and Jeffrey started talking again.

"Maybe you're right," Jeffrey finally said, his voice quiet, contemplative—still turbulent, but softer somehow. "I…" he sucked in another breath. There had been a lot of that today, and I was starting to realize it was a tell of his. When he was frustrated, scared, or uncomfortable, he could hardly get a full breath in. His beautiful lungs grew too tight. "I've had a hard time breaking those habits. They're what kept me alive."

Kept him alive?

What the fuck?

"Then try this," Doctor Mason said gently. "Let loose a little . Do one thing you wouldn't normally do, simply because it makes you happy. It might do you some good."

"Okay," Jeffrey sighed, but even I could tell some of the tension in his voice was gone.

Relief filled my body.

Relief that I'd somehow…maybe gotten away with my accidental espionage. I didn't want him to know. Not after this. If he had such a hard time trusting, I didn't want him to find out that I'd deceived him.

Maybe I could keep this up till the day I left?

Or maybe after a few more weeks, I could get him to become sick of me to the point that he'd not miss me if I disappeared. Though…I didn't see that plan going well. I'd have to do something truly nefarious—like eat all his underwear.

That thought was not…unappealing.

My cock twitched.

"How are you sleeping?" Doctor Mason asked, gently segueing into a new line of conversation before the silence could get awkward.

"I'm not," Jeffrey admitted, and it was easier this time.

Last night he'd had a nightmare.

I'd woken him, pushing my nose against his face till he stopped whimpering. He'd been drenched in sweat. So much sweat that his t-shirt clung to him and the mattress. For a second he'd stared at me and his scent had been scared-hurt-help-help. But then he'd recognized me, and the wild look in his eyes faded away. His long fingers had tangled in the fur at my throat and he'd sagged , as a broken sort of gasp escaped from him.

Easily, as if he'd done it a thousand times before, he pulled his sweaty shirt up and over his head and tossed it across the room.

"S-sorry," he'd managed, like his nightmare had inconvenienced me . I'd licked his face till he laughed, and he curled up in a miserable sweaty ball. "Guarding me even when I'm asleep, huh?" he'd asked, and it felt like a loaded question.

That morning Jeffrey peeled the sweaty sheets off the mattress, and I'd nearly balked when I saw just how stained the mattress was beneath its covers. A physical representation of the long, sleepless nights he often battled. The scent of fear sweat wafted through the air as Jeffrey calmly deposited his sheets in the clothes-washing machine and pulled a new set from the closet. It was full of sheets. All fresh, but mildly scented with fear. Like he'd had to buy so many of them because sometimes he'd have to replace them more than once throughout the night.

Though eavesdropping on this conversation was wildly invasive—even if I hadn't had a choice—I was grateful as it gave me the opportunity to learn what I needed to help him.

I'd never been the best with people—I preferred four paws to two legs, and conversation had never come easy, even when I'd tried my hardest.

As I'd aged and began fearing the moon, that had only gotten worse.

I'd spoken more to Jeffrey the two times we'd met in my humanskin than I had—probably since I was born, and that was the truth. Which meant I wasn't necessarily the best at understanding how I could help him, especially if words and communication were what he needed. I'd simply have to learn.

Simply protecting him, my ass.

This was going to tear me apart, and I knew it.

But more than that…I knew that getting close to Jeffrey and then leaving him would hurt him even worse. But I couldn't seem to stop. Not when he was so sweet and he reeked of need-alpha-hurt-please.

I couldn't leave him.

I needed to help him.

I wanted to help him.

I wanted him .

"Having a dog helps with sleeping," Jeffrey admitted, voice ashamed as he broke through my turbulent thoughts. "And sex does too."

"Did you have sex?" the doctor sounded surprised. "The last time we spoke you mentioned you were having a hard time initiating intimacy, despite it being a big part of your past."

"My man-whore days are over, yeah. Hard to feel sexy when you don't…feel sexy," Jeffrey grunted, voice bitter. "But yeah, I did. Have sex, I mean. A couple weeks ago."

Me.

He had sex with me.

I helped him.

Pride buzzed through my veins. Inappropriate yes, but brilliant all the same. The hunger that ached inside me roared to the surface. I had provided for him. Had provided comfort and release. He had struggled with sleeping and sex, and I had managed to help with both.

"What changed?" the doctor asked, keeping her voice calm.

Surprisingly, it took hardly any prompting at all to get Jeffrey talking this time. About me. About me! My heart thudded and my tail thumped happily against the car seat as my ears perked up and I cocked my head to the side.

Tell me, pretty one.

Tell me what I did so that I can repeat it.

Tell me how to help you.

"He was a dude," Jeffrey laughed, and his surprise was apparent. "A really…big dude."

"Was this your first time with a man?"

"Yes." Jeffrey laughed again, and this time it was lighter. "It's weird…I mean, I never thought I'd be interested in that? But he…"

"But he?"

"I dunno. I guess he was special."

"Are you going to seek him out again?" Doctor Mason's voice was warm. "You're smiling. That's the first time you've smiled since you walked in here."

"I am?" Jeffrey startled. "I mean. Yeah. I am. Smiling. I uh—I dunno. It feels weird to do that. He hasn't approached me—at least not in a way I can like…reciprocate? It was just a one-night stand at first. But then he bought me dinner and I…guess maybe…it could be more? He's a werewolf." Jeffrey laughed, like that was the weirdest part of all of this. "We're not even the same species."

It wasn't fair.

Not for him, or me.

If he had been born a wolf, there would've been no room for this insecurity. Through my scent, my heartbeat, my actions—the very bond that tied us as fated mates, he would've known immediately how important he was.

If he had been born a wolf, I could choose him. He could mate with me and keep me from going feral. But he wasn't—and he couldn't.

Fate had turned its back on the both of us.

"Do you want it to be more?" the doctor asked, and my heart pounded as I waited to hear his answer.

"I don't know if I'm ready for more."

"But do you want it?"

"I…" Jeffrey sucked in another breath, and my tail beat a happy thwap against the car seat. "I think I do?" He laughed again, and this one was more brittle. "Lydia would hate it."

"Lydia hated a lot of things."

I hated her. I hated her. I hated her.

A blinding, wicked hate that made my skin burn beneath the surface of my fur. Made my teeth snarl, and my head fill with visions of blood. I hated her, because I may be dumb—but even I could connect the dots. Even I could see what effect she'd had on my pretty, perfect mate. Jeffrey's voice was small and shaky—childlike almost.

"I guess I'm just trying to figure out who I am without her pulling my strings."

"She's had a big influence on you."

"Yeah, no shit." Jeffrey snorted. "Sorry. Sorry . Didn't mean to be rude. That's just…yeah. Yeah. She has."

"And you miss her."

"I…don't know if I miss her so much as I miss knowing what to expect. She was predictable. At least…until the end. I knew what she wanted from me, and who she wanted me to be. It was hard at first, but over time it got easier to be the Jeffrey she wanted."

"And not Markus."

"I stopped being Markus the day she faked my death," Jeffrey answered easily. Somehow that sounded less painful than his other truths. Like this was something he'd come to terms with a long time ago. My thoughts spun. Like seeds in the dirt, the truth of what I'd learned began to bud. "I don't even…I don't even know who "he" is anymore."

"He, as in Markus. You view him as a separate entity."

"He is. Was. I am." Jeffrey obviously tried to backtrack, but failed. "I just… Behind the person I built to survive Lydia I don't really know…who or what I am anymore. The only part of me that ever felt good or real, was the part of me that was Blair's big brother. But even he doesn't need me anymore."

My heart ached for him.

"When you had sex," the doctor started, "did you feel as unsure as you do now?"

Jeffrey was silent once again.

Silent for so long I wasn't certain he'd answer her at all.

"No," his voice shook. "That was the first…first time in a long time where I just felt like…me?"

"Were you paranoid?"

"No."

"And you were present, in the moment."

"Yes." Jeffrey's voice was soft as hummingbird's wings. "I felt…real."

"You felt real," she repeated. "That's good. That's very good."

He felt real.

He felt real.

He felt real.

Did that mean he often didn't?

The thought saddened me. Especially because, to me, he'd felt larger than life since the first moment I met him. He was real in a way nothing ever had been.

The hunger I'd felt for him all these weeks suddenly softened. From lust, it morphed into the need to see him whole. To see him happy. To soothe him, to love him, to protect him till the day I couldn't anymore.

"Did the date make you happy?" she asked in a gentle voice. "Does your dog make you happy?"

"Yes," Jeffrey replied immediately.

"I think…you haven't devoted enough of your new life to discovering the things that make you who you are," she said. "You need to spend time pursuing the things that make you feel happy. I'm not saying, go out and have a bunch of riotous sex—but I do think you should take some time to really figure out who you are, and self-discovery is a big part of that."

"Okay," Jeffrey sucked in one last, broken breath.

"I also urge you to do your best to rely on someone else this week. Even if it's just something simple and small. Try to let yourself go a little. Test your own boundaries. You might like the man you discover you are. And the people you love might surprise you."

"Right," Jeffrey laughed, letting out the breath he held in a quiet swoosh. "Rely on someone. Ha. Okay."

" Try ," she said softly. "And if you don't, we'll try again later."

"Okay."

When Jeffrey left the building, his hair was a floppy, sweaty mess. It stuck out all over, like he'd been running his hands through it the entire time he was inside. He grinned and waved, flashing a flirty wink at the people he passed on his way to the car, shining brighter than the sun above.

Even from a distance, he smelled like other people and Lysol. His hands had the acrid scent of hand sanitizer clinging to them as he pulled open the driver's side door and slid into his seat.

As soon as the door shut, Jeffrey leaned his forehead against the steering wheel, his hands flexing. He gripped it tight enough the leather squeaked, and then he just… sagged . Like all the energy in his body had been completely drained.

He reminded me of a deer I'd found in the woods last spring. She'd been shot in the leg and limping—for God knows how long. I'd caught her scent combined with copper-blood from a mile away and chased her down. It took a good hour to find her, as she had kept moving, and by the time I finally did, I'd expected to find a corpse.

But I didn't.

Instead, I watched as the deer continued to limp. She was in a meadow, dappled wildflowers crushed beneath her unsteady gait. She pushed through the woods and the pain, moving forward, away, away, away from the danger that had hurt her, even though there was no way she could survive her wounds on her own.

Resilient.

Stubborn.

She collapsed as I approached, and I shifted to my humanskin so that I could bring her home where I could get her help. As I'd carried her through the forest, past my favorite set of boulders and the main hall where my concrete prison sat beneath the dirt—I'd prayed to the moon mother to give her strength.

She survived.

Somehow.

And that was how I knew Jeffrey would too.

Jeffrey was limping and injured. He'd been hurt badly. He was bleeding from a wound I couldn't see. But the drive to survive still flickered in his eyes. Like the deer, he pushed forward—bleeding but stubborn.

Stubborn, pretty man.

Perfect, perfect, perfect.

For a second, I didn't know what to do.

Didn't know if he needed space or if I should approach like I had with the deer, careful and quiet, and gentle. Like I had that night that I'd found him in the alley, wounded and lost, his eyes full of demons.

I knew he couldn't smell my scent, but I exuded as much strength-love-calm as I could anyway, an alpha rumble bubbling up inside my chest to soothe him.

His scent was sad-lonely-tired.

He was shaking again, minute little tremors. His knuckles had healed, though for weeks the skin had been broken and brittle.

I wished the doctor had asked about them. I hadn't known how to—but I desperately wanted to understand why a man like him, all sunshine, would hurt himself. Did new pain distract him from the wound that wouldn't heal?

I wished I was in my humanskin, because while the question was invasive and would more than likely be awkward coming from me and my disjointed communication—I still wanted to understand.

To know him.

To love him as he was, broken bits and all.

I hope I get this right.

Taking a leap of faith, I crossed the seat, my paws digging into the fabric, and pressed my head against Jeffrey's bowed shoulder. He sucked in another quaking breath and the action was somehow more devastating up close. I could hear his lungs wheeze. Hear the stutter of his throat, see the tremor in his body, like he was barely holding himself together, even now.

I woofed softly.

Jeffrey's head tipped to the side, one lovely brown eye peeping at me as he held incredibly still. There was no trace of tears on his speckled cheeks, but that didn't make the way he shook any less devastating.

"You want a cheeseburger?" he asked, voice wobbling. "You look like the kinda guy who needs a cheeseburger." I huffed in amusement, tongue lapping at his cheek till he ducked away with a startled squawk and pushed me off.

We got cheeseburgers.

Cheeseburgers were officially my favorite food.

Jeffrey ate his while he drove, blasting music as loud as he could. He tore the wrapper off mine for me, then left it on the seat for grease to seep into the fabric. Yelling along to the music, he tapped his fingers on the wheel, shoving food into his mouth as he sang about love, and loss, and things I couldn't understand but wanted to—because he clearly did.

His voice was like magic.

A warm bath, twinkling and soft.

Melodic and sweet as honeysuckle.

I listened, enraptured.

And by the time we returned to the apartment together I came to the conclusion that Jeffrey was the strongest person I'd ever met. I had a feeling the more I learned about him, the fiercer my feelings of admiration would grow.

Hunger for him burned beneath my skin as he walked up to the steps to the apartment, his ass muscular and bouncy—and right in my face. An ass I'd touched . Been inside of. I knew how velvety slick it was and I wanted in again, so very badly. It had been too long. Too fucking long.

I'd never resented my wolfskin before, but these last few weeks had been agony. To see and not touch. To not hold him the way I'd grown to crave.

I whined, unable to help myself as I pressed my snout between the round globes the second he paused to put his key in the lock. His sweet, lovely musk filled my nose and my tail began to wave as I inhaled.

"Hey!" Jeffrey laughed, startling a little as I growled against him. I couldn't help it. I didn't even mean to do it in the first place—he was just…right there. And he smelled so good. And I wanted inside where he was slick-hot-pink so damn badly. " No . Bad boy." Jeffrey tried to wag his ass away from my face but I chased him greedily. "No!" He laughed, batting at my head—though not hard enough to hurt—as he got the front door open. I let him go—but it was hard. So was my cock as I followed Jeffrey and his delicious ass down the hallway, all the while muttering under his breath about "dogs being disgusting."

He had bowed legs.

Perfectly spaced so that there was room for his alpha between them.

Later that night, Jeffrey caught me rolling around in his underwear.

I hadn't even done it to push him.

It'd just been sitting in his laundry basket. And the idea had gotten into my head earlier—and god. Fuck. He smelled like heaven. Like oranges and happy and mate-mate-mate . And his boxers somehow smelled even stronger—more concentrated, the mix of sweat with his natural man-musk sending me floating.

I'd told myself I'd only sniff the first ones.

He won't even know.

Jeffrey was in the bathroom showering off the day's funk. That's what he'd called it. His delicious, musky scent—"funk." And he was about to cover it up with some awful artificial soap scent. I hated it.

I'd have to figure out how to introduce him to scentless soap. The kind that wouldn't cover up his natural scent.

I pressed my face against the fabric, huffing greedily, my cock perking up immediately. My wolf itched beneath my skin, a feeling of rightness buzzing through my body, warm and fuzzy and lovely-lovely as I stuck my tongue out and—yes. Oh fuck. I lapped at the fabric, soaking it in spit as I tried to taste him through it.

I sucked at it till his flavor disappeared.

I couldn't stop my tail from wagging.

It thwacked against the bed as I dug around for more. Because while I'd promised myself only one pair…I…yeah. I had very little self-control when it came to Jeffrey. Just one more, I promised myself. Just one, Mutt. And then you'll be done before he can catch you.

This was wrong, even I knew that.

And that somehow only made me need it more. Made my fur puff up and my cock threaten to spill from its sheath.

Just one—I promised, sucking the second pair of boxers into my mouth, a needy growl escaping as my tail thump, thumped .

And thennnnn, I discovered another pair of boxers hidden within the pile beneath that one. And then another. And then another. And then another—and then, because I was horny and needy and fuck-fuck-fuck, I decided enough was enough. And I dumped the basket entirely.

Jeffrey, Jeffrey?—

Mate-mate-mate.

My cock ached, my head full of thoughts of creamy freckle-covered skin. Of his smile—the quake of his shoulders. The way he looked at me with those dark, needy eyes. My cock slid from its sheath, achingly hard as I gave up all pretense and started rubbing my scent all over the dirty clothing till Jeffrey became Jeffrey-Mutt and my wolf preened happily beneath my skin. Our combined musk was even better. It was right . My cock jerked when it pushed against the pile of fabric. I growled softly, the friction sending my head spinning.

In my defense…I hadn't actually meant to fuck the pile of clothes.

I just…got carried away?

Thoughts left the building, the parts of me that were human slipping away as I jerked my hips again, then again, then again. The friction was good but not enough—not enough, not enough. I need more. More taste, more smell—more Jeffrey. I sucked one of the new pairs of boxers into my mouth till the fabric grew foamy wet, tongue laving over the fabric, my body buzzing with need.

So close—just a little?—

Just a?—

That was, of course, when Jeffrey walked in.

He'd taken one look at me rutting into his dirty laundry, with his boxers in my mouth, and immediately started laughing his ass off. That was fair. I wasn't sure how I'd gotten into this mess, but I was glad he found it funny, rather than disturbing.

Perfect mate.

So sweet.

So kind.

Stop calling him that — stop.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

"Dude!" Jeffrey gasped out, amused and horrified in equal turn. His scent was happy-confused-shocked. " Gross !" His hands moved to his hips as he huffed down at me. But my gaze snapped to his very naked, very spotted chest, and I was… fuck . Couldn't stop my hips from moving.

This was what I'd needed.

Just looking at him was enough.

Hungry, hungry, hungry.

"Fuck, I don't even know what to do with this." Jeffrey pinched the bridge of his nose as I panted up at him, unable to help myself. God, his scent was even better like this—with only a towel to cover it.

I so badly wanted to cross the room and tear the towel off. To snuffle and lick where he was soapy clean and soft. Would've been better if he was still sweaty. If his musk had been stronger—but this was good too.

So good.

So so so good.

So—

Uh.

Fuck.

Fuck, that felt so good.

I whined, and Jeffrey shook his head, still horrified-amused.

"I'm going to leave," he said simply, talking to me like he expected me to understand. "And when I come back, you're not going to be doing…whatever it is you're doing right now."

My tail wagged, ears flattened, and Jeffrey nodded to himself.

"Yeah. Okay." He stumbled back, and my gaze snapped to his long muscular legs. Then back to his torso, because the scars that littered it were beautiful. Wolves didn't have scars. We healed far too quickly for that. They were as foreign as his culture was. "No more…whatever this is. Okay?"

I woofed in ascent, and Jeffrey shook his head again, laughing to himself. "What the fuck? You give a dog a cheeseburger, and he thinks he owns the place."

I did own him.

But I didn't say that.

I couldn't.

Because I couldn't keep him.

You can't, you can't, you can't.

I had never hated being an alpha more than I did in that moment.

Because Dad was right.

He told me the hunger would eat me alive, and I was going to let it.