11. Wink

11

Wink

I f I’d thought Derek would sleep soundly just because he was wrapped in my arms, I was wrong. I had hoped, though, maybe that his beast would also find peace for one night. But I woke up around 4am to find Derek’s side of the bed empty, the sheets cool.

Rubbing a hand over my face to wake myself up a little, I rolled out of bed and tugged on my pajama pants. The floor was cold beneath my feet, moonlight spilling through the windows and limning the hallway with silver. The house wasn’t large, but even if it were, it wouldn’t have taken long to find my raccoon. There was a clatter from the kitchen, and I found the fridge hanging open, both raccoon and cat snacking on cheese.

I sighed, crossing my arms over my chest and giving the two sneaky thieves a stern look. “You guys are in so much trouble.”

Derek’s raccoon chattered and held the gnawed block of cheese up for me, as if offering me a nibble .

“I’ll take that,” I said, wrapping it back up and putting it back in the fridge. Maybe we would have to invest in some childproofing locks to keep him out of there. Derek’s human half needed at least some say in what food he was eating.

I kept the two animals occupied for a while, playing with cat toys, then when my eyelids were drooping, I picked my mate’s beast up and carried him back to bed. Yawning, I said, “Just a few more hours of sleep, okay? And tomorrow we’ll see if can figure out a way to bring the two of you together.”

There was no staying awake to confirm that Derek shifted back into his skin. I was out like a light as soon as my head hit the pillow. As much as I wanted to keep helping, it wasn’t sustainable. Now that I wasn’t an ornament anymore, I needed just as much sleep as Derek did.

I woke in the morning to Derek pressing kisses to my chest and neck. He’d hooked his leg over my hips, grinding his hard cock into me. “Morning, sleepyhead,” he said when I responded to his presence at last, rolling so I could draw him into my arms and give him a proper hello.

“Morning,” I murmured groggily, barely able to peel my eyes open, though part of me was certainly up for anything Derek had in mind.

“Hey, are you feeling okay?” he asked with concern. “You don’t look so good.”

“Mm, just tired. A certain raccoon thought a late-night kitchen raid was a good idea.”

Derek huffed, frowning. “We can’t keep this up. Either I’m roaming around all night, binge eating and waking up exhausted, or you’re left chasing after me, becoming just as sleep-deprived as I was.”

“I know. I was low-key joking last night about getting a baby lock for the fridge, but maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea. ”

He bit his lip, thinking about that. “That would solve one of our problems, but… maybe we need to keep looking for my family. I feel like whatever barrier is standing between me and my beast, I feel like it has to do with them. Just because my adoptive parents didn’t have the information we needed, that doesn’t mean it isn’t out there for us to find.”

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. Maybe I was just too tired for logical thought, but I wasn’t following. “I’m not from around here, so you might have to explain.”

“Well, I’ve seen people who try posting on social media looking for their birth parents. Maybe we could try something like that? Someone might recognize me if I look like them. Or maybe there’s, like, a message board for shifters or something? How do we get in touch with others like me?”

“That’s a good question.” I stared up at the ceiling for a few moments, mulling that over. Shifters understandably kept their existence secret from humans, but they were often hiding in plain sight in packs, dens, flocks, or herds, whatever they called their group. “Hey, what do you call a group of raccoons,” I asked Derek.

He shrugged.

Turned out, when Derek needed to think, he baked. With a clatter, he pulled out metal bowls, a whisk, a wooden spoon, and muffin tins, plus a whole slew of ingredients.

“What are we making?” I asked, washing my hands then sidling up beside him at the counter .

His concentrated frown softened into a sweet smile. “You want to help?”

“Always, with everything,” I said, meaning those words right down to my core.

He leaned in and gave me a kiss, then reluctantly pulled away. He pulled a battered and dog-eared recipe book off a shelf and slapped it down on the counter, flipping until he found the page he wanted. “Here, let’s make these blueberry muffins.”

We didn’t talk much as we measured and poured the ingredients into their bowls of wet and dry, then mixed it all together, before folding in the frozen blueberries. I could tell Derek was debating his options, and while I knew more about shifters than he did, he knew more about the human world he— we —lived in.

Derek made a little murmur, then passed me the bowl of batter. “Here, stir this for a minute, please,” he said.

While he pulled out his phone and started typing into the search bar, I lowered my face into the bowl and sniffed. Something was missing…

Derek was so distracted that he didn’t notice me digging through his spice cupboard until it was too late. “Bingo, I think I found it! Take a look at—wait! What are you doing?” he asked with a gasp, grabbing the jar from my hand.

“I’m adding some cinnamon,” I said. “Oh, and nutmeg.” I grabbed the other jar and upended it, sprinkling aromatic spices into the bowl.

His jaw gaped, but he’d given up trying to stop me on this. “Why? That wasn’t part of the recipe.”

“So? Do you always follow the recipe?” I shrugged then set a peck on his lips. “Is that okay? It’ll taste good, I promise.”

He seemed skeptical, but he let it slide. “I guess it’ll be a fun experiment. Besides, we can bring the muffins as gifts for the people we’re about to visit.” Derek held up his phone. “I found a group that looks promising. It says they meet every week, and just our luck, they’re meeting this afternoon. They might just be LARPers like this blog claims, but I have a good feeling about this.”

“What’s a LARPer?” I asked.

“It stands for Live Action Role Play. Basically, people who dress up and portray fictional characters in a chosen setting. Usually, there’s a theme, something like Vikings or aliens, but this seems to be specific to being animals.” His excitement dimmed for a second. “Oh gods, what if they’re furries.”

“What are—”

“Please don’t ask,” he said, pulling a face. “It’s a kink thing.” I made a mental note to look into it later.

An hour of X-rated cuddling on the couch later, he bit down into a muffin fresh from the oven and groaned in a way that made my cock sit up and take notice. And when he licked the crumbs from his lips, his pink tongue flicking out, I was a goner. “Okay, I can admit it. These are better than mine. How did you know?” he asked with genuine curiosity.

“It’s an elf thing,” I told him mysteriously, a mischievous smile ghosting my lips. It was, in fact, exactly an elf thing, because it hadn’t been merely spices I’d added but also a dash of magic.

With the car filled with the rich aroma of blueberries and cinnamon coming from the container of muffins in the back seat, Derek and I drove toward the meeting place, deep in the woods just outside of town. His hands were white-knuckled on the steering wheel, and his left leg was bouncing.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Are you nervous?” I asked.

He sighed and took the hand I offered him across the console. “I guess so. I don’t know what I’m hoping to find. I mean, shifters would mean I might get some answers about where I came from, but what if it’s not good news? What if I find my birth parents, and they still don’t want me? Maybe it would be better if we just found a bunch of people in animal costumes instead.”

I gave his hand a squeeze. “Don’t worry. Either way, good news or bad, I’ve got you. This isn’t the end of the road. If they’re not shifters, then we’ll try something else.”

The GPS alerted us that we were approaching our turn, and Derek flicked on the turn signal. It was barely more than a dirt road, pitted even though packed snow had filled the worst of the potholes.

“Does this look right to you?” Derek asked me warily as he drove slowly through the close-growing trees. “This is the definition of the middle of nowhere.”

“Yeah, but look, there are other tire tracks. We’re not the first ones to drive through here today.”

We kept driving for another ten minutes, doubting ourselves the entire time, and right when we were about to turn around and head home, we saw a break in the trees ahead. Derek drove the car through and into a clearing, and we blinked in the sudden brightness. There were plenty of other cars parked along one side, but that wasn’t what drew our attention. It was the big-ass wolf standing in the middle, watching us as we pulled into a spot at the end of the row. He was no normal wolf—his eyes were an unnatural shade of amber, and his tail wagged in greeting.

“Not furries, then,” Derek muttered, gulping.

He didn’t turn off the engine right away, almost as if he were debating speeding off. “We don’t have to do this, you know,” I reminded him softly.

His eyes flicked to mine, then back to the wolf in his rearview mirror. “Yeah, I know. ”

I gave him time to decide, not rushing him while a whole array of emotions passed across his features. Finally, he gave a firm nod and pushed the car door open, stepping out with determination. I got out my side and joined him by the rear bumper. I was so proud of my mate for facing his fears head-on, but I hoped he understood that he wasn’t alone. Not anymore.

I took his hand, and together, we crunched through the snow toward the wolf.