Chapter Eight

I f Micah didn't know better, he'd say Anders was a total stranger, not the hot dude who'd had his tongue in Micah's ass something like three days ago. There was a lesson about sex and intimacy in there somewhere, or maybe proof that you could have the hottest sex in the world without knowing anything about your partner.

And Micah must not have known Anders at all, because he'd never have guessed the guy lived in a two-story neo-Craftsman with manicured lawns and fucking modern art on the walls. Micah knew a thing or two about decorating – gay man in the twenty-first century, after all – but he'd had Anders pegged as more the utilitarian type. Solid furniture, basically clean, maybe a dog, in a house that he'd discard as soon as he got married.

Shaking his head, Micah pulled his clothes out of his duffle bag and hung them up. Most of them could use some quality washer time, but he'd get the lay of the land first. While he worked, he tried like hell to remember as much as he could about werewolves, particularly about their domestic patterns. He didn't remember reading that they had issues around sharing their homes, but something had tripped Anders' radar.

Micah just wasn't sure what.

Once he had his clothes put away, he made a run to the car to get the groceries. The rain had let up some, but the air was still damp and chilly, and he hoped Anders might put that big fireplace to work.

Not that he intended to sit in front of a blazing fire with a glass of wine as some kind of seduction technique.

But if it worked…

He kicked off his Chucks once more, then followed the sound of a werewolf at work.

The kitchen was as fancy as the rest of the house. No, fancy wasn't the right word. Refined? Mature? Something several steps above the Early College Decor place Micah had shared with his ex. His various cons had required swankier places—cold condos with black and chrome furnishings and city views—but none had felt as personal as this place did.

If this house was any indication, Anders was a guy who paid attention to detail.

Anders was also staring at Micah like he didn't know what to do with him. Micah set the grocery bags on the counter, forcing a smile. "Maybe I shouldn't have—"

"No, I invited you and I'm glad you're here."

Anders' words said one thing, but the tightness around his eyes hinted at another. Micah chose to believe the words and kept his smile in place. "I grabbed a couple bottles of red"—he lifted them out of the first bag and set them on the counter—"and some steaks and stuff."

And stuff . Did werewolves like cheese? Micah set out a brick of decent Irish cheddar, a bag of grapes, and some fancy crackers that were thin, crunchy, and studded with sesame seeds. "Are you hungry?"

That earned Micah something closer to a smile. Anders looked down at himself and held up his hands. "I'm too funky for this. I need a shower and change."

Micah looked at him harder. The wolf wore a tee shirt under an unbuttoned plaid flannel shirt and faded jeans with one knee blown out. His hair needed a wash and he probably hadn't shaved before work this morning, but somehow all of it together made Micah's mouth water. "You look just fine to me."

Anders turned away, but not before his cheeks went pink. "I'll get glasses."

Micah grinned for real this time, in part because the rear view of Anders' jeans was just as nice as the front. He'd have rubbed up on him, but the whole you stay in the guest room thing held him back. "I'm the one who needs a shower anyway."

"You're welcome to use the bathroom next to the guest room." Anders set two wine glasses on the counter.

Micah sniffed a pit. He really did need a shower before they got up to anything romantic. "I might also want to borrow your washer and dryer."

"For sure." Anders took a wine key from a drawer.

Micah held out his hand for the wine key. "Thanks. I didn't have enough quarters for the setup at the hotel."

Anders shook his head. "Man, maybe next time you can skip the motel action."

"Maybe." Micah twisted the opener into cork and gave it a tug. "Any chance we could put a fire in that fireplace?" He kept his attention on pouring the wine so Anders wouldn't suspect he had an ulterior motive.

Anders rubbed his cheek, the scruff on his face rasping. "Okay, you go take a shower and I'll start the fire." He sounded like he was giving in to something he didn't really want to do.

"I don't mean to make trouble."

"You're not."

"Let me put the rest of the groceries away, at least."

"Nah, I got this." Anders smiled, waving at the door. "Go. In twenty minutes, we'll both be cleaner and warmer and then we can… talk."

Though he really wanted to know what Anders had skipped during the pause before talk , Micah headed for the shower. Talking was a good first step, right? They probably should have done more talking over the weekend, though since Micah had given up some pretty significant secrets in very little time, it was almost certainly better that they hadn't.

Stripping out of his damp jeans and hoodie, Micah put on the white terrycloth robe hanging in the closet. Because of course Anders' guest room would have a robe he could use . The bathroom was as large and nicely set up as the rest of the house, and soon Micah was standing under a beautiful stream of hot water. He inhaled steam and exhaled stress, and for a moment, everything was okay.

That moment didn't last because Jesus , was he selfish enough to indulge in a shower when he might well be bringing a demon down on Anders' head? In all the excitement, he'd forgotten to check for a reply from Jessie regarding the mystery bank deposit. If he'd spent the money, that gave the demon even more leverage over Micah.

And Micah was enough of a loser to keep secrets like that from a guy who'd been nothing but nice to him.

Because yeah, Micah might have disclosed his true nature to a virtual stranger, but he was way too ashamed to get into why he had a demon on his tail.

He squirted some cheap-ass shampoo into his hand from the bottle he'd swiped from the motel. Sure as hell didn't deserve the high quality product hanging from the rack under the shower head. Odd, though . Anders didn't seem the type to buy the kind of shampoo that probably cost more than $20 a bottle. Maybe Delilah bought it for him .

Or not. Maybe Anders did like high-quality stuff. After all, Micah would never have guessed his home would be so … homelike. Yeah, Anders was way outta Micah Jenkins' league, and, more than likely, the guy would end up hating him.

Most people did.

Really cool, Anders. Way to make a guest feel welcome.

Anders swatted his own head, feeling like an idiot for the way he'd treated Micah.

Sleep in the guest room. Go take a shower . We'll… talk .

The hottest guy he'd seen in months landed at his front door, and the best he could do was treat him like an acquaintance.

He should have invited Micah into his own bed. That's where he wanted him. Across the hall was too far. Anders could spend all night telling himself he and Micah shouldn't get any more involved than they already were, and he'd be lying the whole time.

He wanted Micah. Even worse, his wolf wanted Micah. Seeing him here, so uncertain in Anders' own space, had brought up feelings that really should have stayed hidden. Protectiveness. Possessiveness. Desire.

Feelings that would fuck up the plans he'd been working on for years.

To distract himself, Anders emptied both grocery bags and put stuff away. The steaks Micah had promised were primo. Anders could have eaten them raw. Could have eaten Micah too.

FFS, give it up.

The shower was still running, so he took a minute to put the grapes, cheese, and crackers on a tray and bring it to the great room. The last time he'd cleaned out the fireplace, he'd left it stacked with logs and kindling. All he needed to do was light the match and the fire burned bright.

He went back for the wine glasses, and, figuring he still had time, he ducked into his room. A quick glance in the mirror showed him that he should be the one in the shower, but he did his best to clean up. He dumped his grubby work clothes in the laundry basket and pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a Mariners hoodie, dragged a comb through his hair, and used a rag at the kitchen sink to wash his face and his pits. It wasn't as good as a shower, but at least he didn't smell quite so ripe.

By the time Micah came out of the bathroom, Anders was on the floor in front of the fire and leaning against the couch, his bare feet close to the hearth and a glass of wine in his hand.

Micah had put on running pants and the kind of microfiber shirt that wicks away sweat. The pants were tight, the shirt was clingy, and both gave Anders an anatomy lesson he didn't really need.

He could remember Micah's body just fine on his own.

To distract himself, he said the first thing that came into his head. "So, how often do you change, or shift, or whatever?"

Micah picked up his wine glass, his expression hard to read. "As often as I need to, I guess."

If Anders blushed any harder, his face would burn right off. "I'm sorry, that was awkward of me. We can talk about something else."

Shrugging, Micah still gave off a frustrating edge of uncertainty. Anders wanted his guest to feel comfortable.

"It's okay," Micah said, as if he were answering Anders' thought. "I'm not like a werewolf, I don't think. I can shift any time, while you pretty much shift when the moon is full, right?"

"Not all of us are tied to the moon." FFS , could you sound any more pompous?

"Okay, yeah, that makes sense. I mean, I saw you leave your cabin last week before the rest of your gang got there and the moon wasn't yet full."

Trying not to sound like such a dick, Anders said, "It was close enough." He didn't want to get into a prolonged explanation about the various perks of being an alpha werewolf, because he wouldn't get far before it sounded like boasting. "Still, we can only shift once and then back again before we have to take some time to recover."

"So, like, one shift a day?"

"Basically. Unless we have the help of a more powerful wolf."

"Huh. I can go between forms as often as I need to, but the more I do, the longer I'm out afterward." Micah took another sip of wine. "Like, when you showed up at the cabin, I'd already been there for a couple days, asleep the whole time."

"Why?"

Micah's smile faded. "Let's just say I needed to travel far and fast, and it was easier to do so by shifting between forms."

Anders played with his glass. In his limited experience, this was the best wine he'd ever tasted, and it seemed like an appropriate choice when in front of the fire with Micah. He really wanted to ask why Micah had needed to travel that way and what he was hiding from. He just needed to come up with the right combination of words.

"I don't…" Micah pressed his lips together and gave a single head shake. "I can count on one hand the number of people who know my true nature."

Anders gave a slow blink. "You're shitting me."

Micah's answering chuckle was bitter. "Yeah, I'm as surprised as you are. The thing is, there are things I haven't told you, and I won't."

Anders wasn't sure, but I won't sounded like Micah was arguing with himself. "Okay."

"I'm not a nice person, Anders, and you are, so you don't see the real me. You've been kind to me and more than generous in allowing me to stay with you. That makes me want to keep you safe, and the best way for me to do that is by keeping some things secret." He stared into his wine like it was talking to him. "I'm sorry," he said gruffly. "You deserve better."

What do I say to that? Anders took a hard pull at his wine. "Thank you, I think. For the record, I don't know you well enough to judge your character, but my gut is rarely wrong about someone. Now, uh, let's broil those steaks."

Finally meeting Anders' gaze, Micah managed to smile. "That sounds great. Let me know what I can do."

"Bring the noshes back to the island and grab a stool. You can keep me company while I cook."

Micah sighed, but he did as Anders asked. For his part, Anders was kicking himself for starting off on such a deep subject. You should have asked which hotel he stayed at, dumbass .

Once they were settled in the kitchen, that's what he led with. They compared notes on the best places they'd ever stayed, then Micah asked why Anders bothered to support the Mariners, the only baseball team in history never to play a World Series.

Their conversation took off from there. The steaks broiled up perfectly rare and after they killed one bottle of wine, they opened the other. They talked about Anders' work as a contractor and how he planned to take over his uncle's business one day, and if Micah didn't have stories to share about his own work, he kept things lively anyway. By the time dinner was done, Anders really, really regretted the whole guest room thing.

"You know," he said, putting the last dish in the dishwasher, "if you wanted to…"

"What?"

"I mean, if you get lonely, I'm right across the hall."

Micah stood framed in the doorway, his expression sober. "Thank you, but I probably shouldn't."

Anders deflated, though it was his own damned fault.

"You, Anders Montgomery, are so hot that you deserve better. You make me want to be better."

"You keep talking about what I deserve." Anders' wolf growled, the sound almost erupting from his mouth. "You need to let me decide that."

Micah approached him. Anders' chest tightened, his breath growing short. "Trust me," Micah whispered. He placed a soft kiss on Anders' cheek, then disappeared.

A cat materialized where Micah had been standing. It pivoted and stalked off down the hall, leaving Anders alone.