25. Wisteria

After Eli leaves my house, post-breakfast, I shower and throw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, flinging my hair up into a ponytail before I leave to go to the shop. As expected, once I get there, every semblance of work grinds to a halt.

"I want all the details," Delia says enthusiastically, and Penelope can't smother the smile on her face, although I see a hint of concern in her eyes.

"We went to the Alley Cat. And then he took me for a ride up into the mountains on his bike." I watch Delia's eyes widen, and she lets out an excited squeak.

"Oh my god, Wisteria. You really are living the dream. Did you–" She bites her lip, dropping her voice to a whisper. "Did you–you know -in the woods?"

I can't help but laugh, even as my cheeks flush. I'm not used to having girlfriends, or sharing the illicit details of my dates afterwards–but to be fair, I've never had the kind of dates worth sharing before, either. "We fooled around," I admit. "And we fell asleep in the grass for a little while. It was past midnight when we woke up, and he came back to my place and spent the night. I made him breakfast this morning, and then we went our separate ways."

"That's so romantic," Delia breathes. "He sounds perfect."

"Perfect–except in January, he's going to leave Bayton, and I'm never going to see him again," I point out. I feel a pang in my chest at the thought, that stabbing pain that's almost becoming familiar. "So there's no point in getting attached."

"Because letting him stay over and making him breakfast couldn't possibly contribute to catching feelings." Penelope rolls her eyes, but there's no malice in it. "I'm not even going to ask if you've told him the truth yet. I think it's pretty obvious that you're not going to."

I don't hear judgement in her voice, just the flat statement of fact. She shrugs. "I'll be here for you even if it all falls apart, Wisteria. I'm on your side, not his. I just think–"

"I know. But I can't." I bite my lip. "Either way–telling him makes this all so much worse. I just want to enjoy it for what it is."

Penelope nods. "Well, I'm glad what it is, is good."

"It sounds so good." Delia looks utterly enraptured by the entire story. "Are you going to see him again?"

"Yeah. Wednesday night. He's going to come over and make dinner with me."

"Oh my god. You two are definitely dating. That's a boyfriend/girlfriend date."

"We're not–" I see the stubborn glint in Delia's eyes and throw my hands up. "Come on, guys. We have work to do."

The rest of the day passes in a blur of busy work, finalizing the last things we need to do in order to be ready to open tomorrow. My stomach is a twisting mess of nerves–over the shop, over Eli, over everything. And then, time and again, I go back to his quiet confidence in me, as we talked over dinner.

It shouldn't mean much that someone I barely know believes in me so thoroughly. But coming from him, it feels like it means everything.

I don't think he's ever had anyone to believe in before.

There's so much about him that I still don't know. But I want to–even if I'm afraid that the more I get to know Eli, the more it's going to hurt when he leaves.

That evening, I send him a text just before I know he's probably going in to work, while I heat up some macaroni and cheese for myself. I hesitate for a second, wondering if it's too much–but over and over, Eli has told me he likes it when I act on my impulses with him.

So I go ahead, and send the text. Ten or so minutes pass, and I start to get anxious, but then my phone buzzes.

I'll do my best. Looks like it's gonna be a busy one.

Not the most romantic text–no I miss you or I can't wait to see you again, but I hadn't really expected it. I'd honestly wondered if the casual text would scare him off.

I tell myself not to expect anything else, not to think about it, and just look forward to the next time we'll see each other. I go about my usual night: I put on Pride and Prejudice while I eat my dinner, take a bath with epsom salts to ease my sore muscles–both from Eli and the work at the shop–and get into bed early. Tomorrow will be a long day, and I know I need my sleep. But before I close my eyes, I find the nerve to send him one more text.

Going to sleep–early day tomorrow! I hope your night was good.

And in the morning, to my surprise, I wake with a response from him waiting for me.

It was a busy night. Gonna sleep in. Good luck with the shop opening, darlin'.

I can't help the smile that spreads across my face. I can hear the text, in his rich, rough drawl, the sound of him murmuring darlin' to me as he slides his hands over my body. A shiver runs down my spine, and my pulse flutters in my throat.

I've got it so fucking bad.

I tell myself just to enjoy it, as I get up and get ready. Today is a big day, so I dress up more than I usually would–a flowy black maxi dress with magnolias printed on the chiffon and pretty ruffled sleeves, the front buttoned down to my waist. I put on my pearl earrings and ankle boots, curling my hair and then putting it up in a high ponytail, and grab a muffin and coffee before I head to the shop.

Penelope is already there when I arrive. "Delia said she's running ten minutes late–something to do with chickens." She wrinkles her nose. "Honestly, I truly don't understand keeping livestock. I thought about getting a black pygmy goat once, for the aesthetic. But the upkeep. I don't even really want a cat."

"Aren't all witches supposed to want a familiar?" I tease her, as I go to start opening the register. Penelope rolls her eyes.

"You don't have one, either. Oh wait, you do. He goes on two legs and talks like this–" She draws out the last part of the sentence in a mimickry of Eli's accent, and I narrow my eyes at her.

"Don't even joke about that. You know that's why shifters hate witches, and don't trust us. They think that's exactly what we're doing."

"Okay, fine." Penelope lets out a huff. "Do you need more coffee? I don't think there's anything else we can do to get ready. The inventory is done and stocked, the store is sparkling clean, my little divination room is prepared. We've got a sign out front–there's nothing left to do but open up in half an hour."

"Another coffee would be great," I admit, even though I'm questioning the wisdom of more caffeine. I'm jittery enough as it is.

Delia comes rushing in at ten minutes before opening, her blonde hair frizzing around her face, wearing a pair of black jeans and a black sweater with a cat sitting in a cauldron on it. I look at her, at Penelope, and then back at myself.

"We're all wearing black." I rub a hand over my face. "An absolute caricature of witches."

Penelope laughs. "The tourists will love it. Delia, go ahead and open up."

I'd been afraid, secretly, that the shop wouldn't have hardly any customers on re-opening day. Penelope had told me that the shop kept a pretty steady business when my aunt was alive–rarely a rush on anything, but a regular flow of customers. I haven't been able to help thinking that if we're slow, it means I've failed.

But, to my surprise, the moment we're open we start to have an influx of visitors. I sell out of the cinnamon stick and orange peel blend for teas in a matter of two hours, the peppermint ointment for aching joints an hour later. I'd set up a small display with a few bottles of my lavender syrup and some of Delia's raspberry-mint cupcakes yesterday, intending to see how much interest there might be, and they're gone before the first hour has even passed.

The busyness ebbs and flows throughout the day, but we're never without customers. About three p.m., as I'm stuffing half of a chicken club sandwich into my mouth, Delia pokes her head in with a cat-that-got-the-cream grin on her face.

"You have a visitor," she says, and the mischievous lilt in her tone tells me exactly who it is.

I wipe my hands, quickly glancing in the break room mirror to make sure I don't have anything in my teeth, and dart back out. Penelope is nowhere to be seen, which means someone has asked for a reading, and Delia is busy helping three separate tourists decide on which herbal blends would be best for their altitude headaches. A few others are browsing, and I see one woman filling out the order form that we left, for anyone interested in purchasing the syrups or Delia's baked goods on demand.

And then I see him.

Eli is standing near the door, in his black jeans and motorcycle boots, wearing the grey henley and checked button-down over it that I remember from when I first met him. He turns as he hears my footsteps coming out of the back, and a slow smile curves the edges of his mouth.

"I thought I smelled you," he murmurs under his breath as I walk up to him, and a delicious shiver runs down my spine. The way he says it makes me think of his nose buried in my neck, his hands on my waist as he–

Shit.I banish the thoughts. But Eli has already noticed, from the way the stormy blue in his eyes has started to darken.

"You make it hard to go out in public together, darlin'," he murmurs, leaning down to give me a light kiss on the mouth. Like it's nothing at all–like we're really together, just a man coming by to see his girlfriend before he goes to work. My chest aches slightly at the thought, but I push it away, just like I did the others.

"You're in my shop," I tell him teasingly.

"So I am." He straightens, glancing around. "Looks like you're having a good opening day."

"It's been so busy." I can't help the smile on my face as I look at the tourists milling around–and a few locals I think I recognize just from my time in town so far. "I was afraid to hope it would go this well."

"I knew you'd do just fine." Eli grins. "And I might've been mentioning this place at the bar lately, to any tourists who said they'd be in town the rest of the week."

My eyes go wide. "Are you serious?"

Eli's smile falls, and he looks a little confused. "Was that the wrong thing to do? Shit, Wisteria, I told you I'm not good at this whole–"

"No–no that's amazing. That was so sweet of you." I stare up at him. "I want to shower you with kisses right now. You didn't have to do that."

Eli chuckles, his shoulders visibly relaxing. "It's not like it was hard. I just mentioned now and then that if anyone was in need of some teas, or a good liniment for the hiking aches, or anything else–well, the apothecary in town was opening up on Monday, and they should swing by."

"You're incredible." I go up on my tiptoes, pressing my hands against his chest as I press a kiss to his lips. I can feel the heat of his skin, even through the shirt, and my pulse flutters in my throat as I think of all the things I'd like to do to him right now. "And you should probably not stay too long, before I kick Penelope out of her divination room and drag you back there."

Eli wrinkles his nose. "I got nothin' against your friend," he says wryly. "But a room full of tarot cards and a crystal ball isn't my first pick for where we could get hot and heavy."

And just like that, I feel my heart sink, just a little.

It's not like you were going to tell him anyway,I remind myself. And maybe it's just the divination thing he doesn't like. Plenty of folks, even magical ones, don't like the idea of having their fortunes told.

"I imagine you're gonna be pretty tired, the next few days," he says, his eyes crinkling a little at the corners as he looks down at me. "You still good for Wednesday night?"

I nod, quickly. "Definitely," I assure him, and Eli smiles.

"I'll see you then, darlin'."

One more quick kiss, and he's gone. I see Delia grinning at me from across the shop, but there's no time to gossip about it. And it doesn't slow down, not for the rest of the day, until it's eight p.m. and time to close up.

I never knew how exhausting it could be to run a shop all day. I nearly fall into bed when I get home, after scarfing down some leftover takeout and managing my way through a quick shower. And the next day is equally as tiring. There's no sign of business slowing down, and as grateful as I am, there's a huge difference between this, and my shifts at the bookstore.

"We'll work out a schedule for shifts," I tell Penelope and Delia at the end of Tuesday. "Days off, all of that. If things keep up like this, we might bring on a fourth person. But for now, we'll just be all hands on deck, until things smooth out."

They're both more than happy with that arrangement. And so am I–except I start to wonder if I'm going to have the energy for my Wednesday night date with Eli. I don't want to cancel–that seems like a surefire way to make him think that I'm signaling a loss of interest…and a small, unreasonably jealous part of me worries that if I cancel, he'll spend the night with someone else. For all I know, he might have anyway, in between our dates. It's hard for me to believe his relentless libido is for me and me alone, and I've seen how ravenous he can be. I also see the way women look at him. And we're not exclusive, as far as I know. It's not like we've talked about it.

And then, halfway through a quick lunch break on Wednesday, I get a text from Eli.

For a second, I'm almost afraid to open it. If it's him canceling on me, I know I'm going to be crushed, even if I was thinking just yesterday that I didn't know if I'd have the energy to cook dinner.

Hey Wisteria. I know you're probably run ragged with the shop–

My stomach tightens instantly, sure that what I'm going to read next is him backing out, using it as an excuse.

I can't cook much, but I think I can manage burgers. If you'll allow me to use your kitchen, I'll bring over some drinks and let you get off your feet while I cook you dinner. How does that sound?

Tears fill my eyes instantly. It's stupid, I know–it makes me feel ridiculous, and I'm glad there's no one else around to see. But I've never had anyone do anything like this for me before. Not only did he notice how tired I am, but he thought of something nice to do for me on account of it.

Yes,I text back immediately. I love the sound of that. Feel free to bring over whatever you want.

Eli turns up on my doorstep promptly at seven, as we agreed, giving me time to shower and change into a pair of soft black sweatpants and a t-shirt. I feel a little self-conscious, being so dressed down, but Eli gives me the same look when I open the door as he did the night I dressed up for our date.

He's wearing faded jeans and a long-sleeved henley, and he hands me a grocery bag as he steps in so he can take his jacket and boots off. There's something remarkably domestic about it, something that makes me feel warm and soft and vulnerable.

"Alright." He hangs up his jacket, turning to me. "I brought everythin' for burgers, some potatoes, just in case I can pull that off too, and everythin' I need to make you that whiskey drink you like. I convinced Xander to give me his venison burger recipe, so we'll see how this goes. And you–" Eli smiles at me, leaning down to kiss me on the mouth. "You're gonna sit and do absolutely nothin' while I cook you a meal."

"This is more romantic than the first date." I kiss him back, resisting the urge to press myself against him and distract him. "I'm really starting to believe the bad boy act is just that."

Eli chuckles, but says nothing, leading us into the kitchen. I sit down at the table while he pushes his sleeves up to his elbows and makes me a drink, feeling a warm happiness spread over me.

"You look good in my kitchen," I can't help telling him as he strains my cocktail into a glass. "Better than anyone should, really."

It's true. His large, muscled body fills the space, his bare forearms flexing as he starts to unpack the bag of food, tattoos visible, his hair falling a little into his face as he looks over the array of ingredients on the counter. "You might change your mind once I get started," he says with a laugh. "But if I burn it, we'll just order pizza."

"Sounds good to me." I tuck my feet under me, sipping at the drink as I watch Eli start to make burger patties and chop onion and potatoes, seasoning the meat and then putting it in a skillet. The smell of spiced, cooking venison starts to fill the air, and I hear my stomach grumble.

"I've been living off takeout leftovers for three days," I tell him when he glances back at me with a smirk. "You could have made me literally anything, and I'd be excited about it."

"Well, hopefully this suits your palate." From the scent filling my kitchen, I can't imagine it won't. Eli stops just long enough to make me another drink and fix himself one, and then finishes flipping the burgers. I watch as he arranges them on soft-looking buns, adding a garlic aioli and caramelized onions, lettuce and blue cheese before pulling sliced roasted potatoes out of the oven. "This is all Xander's recipe from the Howling Moon–he said it'd win over anyone. So I guess we'll see." He grins at me, bringing me my plate along with a side of the aioli, and setting his down next to mine.

"You don't have to win me over," I assure him. "You managed that a while back."

"It was my personality, wasn't it?" Eli smirks at me, a glint in his eye telling me he's joking.

"Actually–" I hesitate, feeling that pang in my chest, a warning that this might be too vulnerable. "It was. Really–from that first walk out to the lake, I liked being around you. Before that, even. That afternoon I came back to get my card and we talked–I just liked you. Your sense of humor, your attitude–it's more than how you look. Or–anything else," I add, blushing as he looks at me pointedly.

"Well." Eli picks up a slice of potato, dipping it in the aioli. "That's a first, honestly. If anyone wanted me to stick around for my personality before, they didn't say anythin' about it."

"Maybe you didn't stick around long enough for them to say so," I point out, and then instantly wince. We've avoided talking about the fact that he'll eventually leave, like two people playing at a relationship that isn't ever going to be anything. It hurts to think of it, now. But Eli doesn't look offended, just thoughtful.

I take a bite of the burger, wanting to fill the silence, and my eyes widen. "I don't believe you can't cook, either. This is amazing." It's rich and flavorful, maybe a little heavily spiced, but I don't mind it. The combination of garlic and blue cheese with the sweet onions sets off the gamey taste of the meat, and I take another bite before I've even fully swallowed the first. After the week I've had so far, this meal tastes like heaven.

"Well, I just followed instructions." Eli gives me a crooked smile, taking a bite of his own burger. A second of silence ticks by, and another, and another, until I start to wonder if I really said something wrong, when I mentioned him not sticking around.

He sits back after a moment, letting out a slow breath. "Wisteria–"

"I'm sorry," I say quickly. "I shouldn't have said anything. I didn't mean to bring up a sore subject."

Eli shakes his head. "It's not that. It's–" He swallows hard, his throat tightening, as if he's having trouble getting out what he wants to say. "Bein' around you, these last few weeks–it's made me start to think about things I never have before."

"What do you mean?" My pulse leaps suddenly in my throat, and I remind myself not to think too far ahead. He probably doesn't mean what I think–

"Suddenly, I've started thinkin' about things like–well…what if I didn't leave in January? What if I hung around a while longer, started to see if what we've got might stick? What if I didn't just hit the road again? Things I've never thought about before. And I don't quite know what to make of it. For that matter–" He rubs his hands on his jean-clad thighs. "I don't even know if that's somethin' you might want. Even thinkin' it is makin' an awful lot of assumptions about somethin' we haven't talked about."

My heart is racing. I take a slow breath, trying to steady myself, not to answer too quickly. "I think you might already know the answer to that," I say slowly. My stomach is in knots. "Do you really mean it?"

Eli also breathes in slowly, as if he too is trying to measure his words. "I can't make any promises," he says carefully. "Not yet. I know you know–even the idea of stickin' around is a lot for me to consider. But what we have, here–" He shakes his head. "I haven't felt anythin' like it before, Wisteria. Hell–you make me say things like that. You make me want to say things I haven't ever had the desire to say. And it makes me wonder if it might not be worth seein' what else could come of it."

If he stayed. If he stayed, I'd have to tell him.My heart beats rapidly in my chest, half excitement, half fear. There's hope and anxiety in equal measure, because I want more, too. But I also don't know what happens when he finds out the truth about me.

"But you still just want to take things slow, right? See how it goes. It's not even Halloween yet. I mean–" I bite my lip, my food forgotten. I see Eli's face start to shutter, and realize he thinks I mean that I don't want this. That I don't want more of him.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

"I–I want to find out, too." The words come out in a rush, before I can second-guess them again. "I like this. You. Us. I don't want it to end in January, I don't think–I like the idea that maybe–"

Eli gives me another of those crooked smiles. "There's some things we might need to talk about, though." He runs a hand through his hair.

Fear spikes through me. If he's going to tell me more about himself, share more about himself, then how can I possibly justify continuing to keep all of this from him?

Because you don't know. You don't know how he'll react. It could end now. Or it might not, and then it will make it so much harder if he does leave.A when that has suddenly, maybe, become an if.

"Let's talk about it over a drink, after dinner." I manage a smile, trying to keep my voice steady, even as my thoughts race. I don't know what I'm going to do. I know what Penelope would say, what her advice would be. But–

I'm terrified to tell him, and I'm afraid of what might happen if he does stay, and I tell him too late. I can't keep it a secret forever.

"Okay, then." Eli sits forward, reaching for his burger. "Tell me how things went with the shop."

He switches the topic so easily, so effortlessly, that I think it makes me fall in love with him a little bit right then. He doesn't get upset that I want to wait for the serious conversation, or push to ask what I'm thinking right now. He just gives me space, and changes the topic to something else–something else that he's interested in that involves me, on top of it.

I fill him in on how business has gone the last two days–how I'm already going to have to work on new inventory for some items, how the test for the baked goods and syrups went, how we've turned a significant profit already since we've been open again. "I was worried the tea shop and bookstore idea was a silly one," I admit. "But with how excited everyone has been for Delia's baked goods–there's a whole stack of orders, enough that I had to take away the forms, because it's more than she can do before some of these people are heading out of town. It's amazing, really. I think if she becomes the pastry chef for the tea shop–we'll do so well. We could even offer a brunch on the weekends, eventually, along with regular high and afternoon teas of course–"

I keep telling Eli about my plans, going on until I realize I've been talking for so long my food is getting cold. And he listens while he works his way through his dinner, nodding and asking questions, seemingly genuinely interested in what I have planned.

"You could keep expandin' if things do well," he says thoughtfully. "You're doin' it right, I think. Start small, and then keep addin' things on. You've got a good head for this,."

"Thank you." I give him a small smile, feeling suddenly bashful. "I really didn't know if I could pull it off."

"You seem to be doin' a great job." Eli stands, clearing off our plates, shaking his head at me when I start to get up. "I'll clean up. Here–take your drink, go get comfortable. I'll come in there in a minute with fresh drinks, and we can talk."

Just like that, my heart is galloping in my chest again. I do as he suggested–go in the living room, and I get a fire going in the fireplace, the smell of burning wood and the cheery crackle of it filling the small space and instantly making it feel homey. I sink back onto the couch, and when I hear Eli's footsteps and look up to see him walking in, my heart leaps at the sight of him standing there in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen.

I could get used to him being here, so easily. It feels natural having him here–too natural, almost, as if this was always meant to be. I feel both frightened and elated all at once, and I swallow hard as Eli sits down across from me on the couch with his drink.

"I know we're not makin' any promises about this," he says slowly. "You're not sayin' you're sure you want this to be a thing, and I'm not sayin' I'm not gonna take off in January like I planned. But I think we both know we'd be lyin' to ourselves if we said there aren't feelings here. Ones I don't think either of us expected to have."

I shake my head. "I always knew I was bad at this," I say softly. "Hookups, I mean. I've never been much of a one-night-stand kind of girl. But I knew what I was getting into. And you're right–I didn't expect to feel as much for you as I do."

Eli rubs a hand over the back of his neck. "There's complications," he says finally. "With a human and a shifter. Not just the sexual ones–relationship complications. And if we're gonna risk this thing gettin' deeper–you should know what I'm talkin' about."

I lick my lips nervously. I hadn't thought of there being complications just because I'm a human–other than the obvious sexual issue of his knot. I'd known there might be problems if he knew I was a witch, but other than that– "What do you mean?"

"Well–you know about the knot. There's that–I can't ever do that to you. I'd split you in half. We've talked about it. And that means that just before the full moon and after–well…this is gettin' ahead of ourselves a whole lot, but if we ever shared a home, I'd need to make myself scarce. Just seein' each other–you'd need to keep a wide berth away from me, for those few days before and right after."

I frown. "Why?"

Eli winces. "You know how I am most of the time with you? Can't keep my hands off you–like we're about to end up in bed as soon as we see each other?"

I nod, feeling my cheeks heat a little. "Yeah," I manage with a shaky smile. "It rings a bell."

Eli chuckles. "That's how a wolf normally is, right before the moon. You seem to do it to me all month long. But on account of that–well, I'm not entirely sure how I'm gonna feel, right before the full moon with you. Likely, I'm gonna be so ravenous that I'd barely let you out of bed. And the twenty-four hours after the full moon shift–" He takes a deep breath. "It's somethin' else. For that period of time, we can't think of anythin' except sex and food. A rut, for males–heat, for females. It's just fuckin', sleepin', food for energy, and startin' the cycle all over again. It wears off after a day passes, and we go back to normal."

I feel a flush of jealousy–unreasonable, I know, but it's there, searing hotly through my veins. "So the day after the full moon you–what? Find a woman to shack up with for twenty-four hours?"

Eli shakes his head. "I don't. I take care of it myself. End up pretty rubbed raw by the next mornin', to be honest, but I've never taken anyone to bed for the rut."

I let out a relieved breath. "Why not?" I ask curiously.

"Because of the same reason I'd need to keep clear of you. It's almost impossible not to knot your partner, during that time. The urge is too strong–primal, really. And beyond the fact that that's a good way to end up with a kid if your partner isn't on birth control, well–" he shrugs. "I've never knotted a woman. Didn't plan on ever doing it."

"But–" I frown, remembering his reaction when I've touched it. "Never? It seems to feel so good when I–"

Eli tenses, and I see the ripple of desire that goes through him, just at the mention of it. "You have no fuckin' idea," he murmurs, his voice suddenly hoarse. His eyes darken, and I feel a shiver go down my spine. "When you touch me there–it's like nothin' I've ever felt. It feels so fuckin' good it's all I can do not to knot you. I've heard all my life how good it is, knottin' a woman. I can't even begin to imagine what it would feel like, doin' it to you. And if you were with me right after the moon, I wouldn't be able to stop myself." His gaze darkens further, not with lust, but with apprehension. "I'd hurt you. And that I can't live with. So if we were gonna be together–I'd leave you be, the couple days before and the day after."

I run a hand through my hair, trying to wrap my head around it. "So–what? You'd just stay home and jerk off until you worked it out of your system? Or if we–lived together…you'd just go get a room and handle it yourself?" The idea of that–of us living together–feels so far in the future that it's almost outlandish. It's such a huge jump, from where we are now. But saying it out loud…something about it feels good. Like I'd like it, if it happened.

Eli nods. "That's about the sum of it."

"How is that fair to you? How could you be okay with that?" I shake my head. "I'm struggling to understand how you could give that up for me. The most pleasurable sexual act you can do–off the table. And then, on top of that, one day a month, you're going to give up the opportunity to have hot, rabid, nonstop sex with the person you're with, everything heightened by what you are, to jerk off instead by yourself because you don't want to hurt me?" I press my lips together. "Fuck, Eli–I'm not trying to talk you out of this, but that doesn't sound fair at all."

Eli chuckles, the sound a little hoarse. "Well, to be fair–like I said, I always ride out the rut on my own. I don't wanna be locked up with some stranger all day, by knottin' her, and I don't want to risk a kid. So I haven't ever done it with someone. Haven't knotted anyone, either. So is it really givin' somethin' up if I've never done it?"

I let out a slow breath. "I guess there's something to that. But you might find someone eventually–"

A strange pain crosses Eli's face, an expression I've never seen there before. "That brings me to the next thing," he says, his voice suddenly grave. "And this is the part–hell, Wisteria, this is the part that scares me. All that sex stuff off the table–" His jaw tightens, and I feel a prickle of fear run down my spine.

"What is it? Just tell me."

"Shifters can form mate bonds." Eli rubs a hand over his mouth. "There's two kinds. One is intentional–like a marriage, kinda. It only happens between shifters. Day after the full moon, during their heat and rut, a wolf knots his mate, and then bites her. There's some–I don't know the technicalities of it–some pheromone that gets released into the blood. It binds them together. Makes the woman more fertile, if they want kids, the male more virile. That cycle I talked about–it gets extended by a couple of days. They'll spend about three days together, barely doin' anything else other than fuckin', knotted up together. And at the end of it, they're bonded. Can feel each other's emotions, sense where the other is at. Usually if one shifts, so does the other, although that can be controlled a bit. They won't like bein' away from each other for long. And god help any other man or woman that tries to step in, after that."

"Penelope told me something about it–although I didn't realize it was that–" I bite my lip. "You said shifters. So–that's off the table for you, too, if you date a human. You're still–you'd be giving up a lot."

"Once again–" Eli shrugs. "Not somethin' I ever intended on doin' anyway. Hell, Wisteria, I'm past thirty and you're the first woman who's ever made me want to go out on a real date, or stick around for more than a night or two. Plenty of humans stay together without gettin' married, right? No need to get all worked up over somethin' that I'm not gonna go out and do anyway."

"But what if you met–"

"Here's the thing." His face goes very still, and I can feel the tension in him, like the air between us is heavier, suddenly. "I'm not gonna meet some shifter lady and decide to leave you so that I can have all those things, Wisteria, if we got that far. I didn't have any intention of havin' them before, and it won't bother me not to from here on out. But there's another kind of mate bond. It's rare. Real rare. But if it happens–" He shakes his head, and I remember what Penelope told me. The unavoidable version of it.

"There's no gettin' out of it, if it happens," Eli says quietly. "Two shifters could be total strangers, and it hits them–and they're bonded together. They can fight it, if they want, but it's nearly impossible. An emotional pain that becomes nearly physical. Most give in to it, even if they have partners already, even if they don't want it, because it hurts too much to fight. And more often than not, they end up fallin' for each other, sooner or later. The bond has ways of makin' that happen." He sucks in a slow breath, and I see a flickering pain in his eyes, something deep enough that I know there's more to this. Not for him–he's made it clear he's never had anything like that–but someone else, maybe?

"I could love you with everythin' in me," Eli says quietly. "We could have a home, hell–we could have a family. We could take this thing all the way to the end. And if that bond hit me–one of two things would happen. Either I'd fall prey to it, and leave. Or I'd try to fight it, and you'd have to watch me fight through lovin' another woman I didn't even know."

An unexpected pain hits me in the chest, tears welling in my eyes for something that hasn't even happened. Even the thought feels unbearable.

"See?" Eli says quietly. "It hurts and it hasn't even happened. It's unlikely, but it could, Wisteria. That's what you're signin' up for with me. Somethin' that could go off the rails one day, hurt you real bad, just because of what I am. Because of somethin' out of my control."

Pain surges through me, hot and sharp, and I know that's only the barest hint of what I'd feel, if Eli's warning came to pass. If I were smart, I'd walk away now. I wouldn't sign up for the possibility of falling in love with someone who could hurt me–not even through his own doing, but on account of something that he can't do anything about. That, whether he stayed or left, would destroy us.

I like to think that deep down, I believe love can overcome a lot, even if I've never experienced it. But that–

I'm pretty sure even love can't fix that.

But the thought of walking away now, when we're on the cusp of something that I want so badly–I don't think I can do it, no matter how much it might hurt in the end.

"I want this," I whisper. "I want you. And we'll–we'll do what you said. We'll enjoy today, and we'll figure out tomorrow later. If you want to stay in January, stay. And then we'll figure out the next month, and the month after that. You said it's rare." I swallow hard, fighting back tears that don't even make sense. "There's lots of ways to lose someone. I wouldn't not date someone because he could get in a car crash one day, even though that would break my heart, too. So I don't want to end this now just because something might happen to tear us apart."

Eli's face softens in a way I've never seen before. "I'm afraid of it, too," he says quietly. "And I can't promise you right now that I'm not gonna get scared and run. That I'll be able to stay, when I never have before. But if you wanna keep tryin', for now–" He lets out a slow breath. "I can give you that much, for sure. One day at a time."

I nod, feeling tears brimming on the edge of my lashes. And then Eli sets his glass aside, moving closer to me as he leans forward.

His hand threads through my hair, bringing my mouth to his. With his other hand, he takes my drink and sets it aside too, slowly leaning me back until I'm laying back on the throw pillows, looking up at his handsome face above mine.

"You just lay here," he growls softly against my mouth, his hands already working my shirt up and over my head. "I wanna find out just how many times I can make you come on my tongue."

I let out a soft gasp as his mouth closes over mine again, his hands filled with my bare breasts as he runs his thumbs over my nipples. They stiffen instantly under his touch, my back arching as I gasp into the kiss, every brush of his skin over mine electric. I can feel desire pulsing under my skin, heating my blood, tipping me over into a need that a moment ago wasn't even there. But now it feels hot, urgent, desperate.

"Eli–" I whimper his name, squirming under him, and he lets out a low, rasping laugh. I moan as he moves down my body, tongue replacing his fingers, rolling over my nipples as he slides my sweatpants down my hips. I'm naked in under a minute, him still fully clothed, and desire ripples over me as he starts to drag his lips down the soft plane of my stomach.

"No rush," he murmurs, his tongue trailing down to one hipbone, his lips closing over it. "I'm gonna take my time, Wisteria. And you're gonna feel so fuckin' good."

I have no doubt. I already know what he can do with his tongue–but this feels heightened, somehow, more intense. His breath is warm on my skin, his tongue making my nerves feel raw and exposed, every sensation jolting through me as I feel myself grow slick and wet between my thighs. Eli groans, breathing in deeply, and I know he can smell my arousal.

"You make me so fuckin' hard, darlin'." His hands squeeze my thighs, sliding down the outside of them to my knees, spreading them wider. "I'm achin' already for you."

"You could just fuck me." It comes out breathlessly, and Eli chuckles, pressing a sucking kiss to the inside of my thigh. His beard grazes over my skin, his teeth following, and I cry out, my hips arching upwards in search of what I so desperately need.

"Oh I will," he promises darkly. "But first, I wanna taste you on my tongue. I wanna eat you up. And you're gonna come so hard for me, aren't you, sweetheart?"

I nod speechlessly, and I feel his warm breath ghost between my thighs, making me whimper and squirm.

"Good girl," he murmurs, his hands tight on my inner thighs as he spreads me wide. And then he bends his head, and I feel the first hot, long swipe of his tongue over my aching pussy.

I cry out, a sound that might be his name, mingled somewhere in the keening wail of pleasure. It feels so good, soft and wet and hot, laving over my folds, swirling around my entrance, delving briefly inside before he drags his tongue up to my clit and laps at it, his lips brushing over me as I let out another sobbing moan. I'm on the verge of coming already, my thighs trembling, and I can feel my arousal soaking his face as he licks my clit again, fluttering his tongue against me.

"You come for me whenever you want, darlin'," he murmurs, his voice vibrating against my skin. "As many times as you want. I'm not stoppin' anytime soon."

He's true to his word. I come for the first time seconds later, arching and crying out, hips bucking against his face as he loops one arm under my thigh and over my stomach, holding me down as he licks my clit in long, hot strokes. He keeps going, never faltering for a second, lips fastening around the swollen flesh as he sucks me into his mouth, tongue still fluttering against me. It's almost too much–too much sensation, too much pleasure, spilling over me in waves as he groans against my heated skin…and still doesn't stop.

I come again, grinding against his mouth, soaking his beard, the sucking pleasure of his lips sending a near-endless stream of moans spilling out of me. And then, just when the orgasm feels as if it's finally begun to stop, he thrusts two thick fingers into me, and then a third, spreading me wide. He fingers me hard, thrusting in time to the rhythm of his mouth pulsing against my clit, and the pleasure that hits me in a crushing wave is nearly indescribable.

For a moment, I think I'm going to pass out. Every muscle is tensed, every part of me wracked with sensation, and I feel like I'm floating. I don't even realize at first that he's stopped until I open my eyes dizzily, trying to catch my breath, and see him kneeling between my thighs as he fumbles with his zipper.

"I can't–" he groans, "fuck, Wisteria, I can't even wait to get my clothes off. I need–fuck–I need to be inside you now."

He finally drags his zipper down, palming his thick, hard cock out in one swift motion, and leans over me. I feel the swollen heat of his cockhead against my drenched entrance, still almost too thick even after so many orgasms, and he hesitates only a second before he thrusts into me all the way to his knot.

He doesn't slow down. His hand slides into my hair, along my jaw, tipping my mouth up so he can kiss me hard as he fucks me in long, relentless thrusts that leave me crying out each time he sinks into me. Again, and again, as I wind my legs around his and my arms around his neck, and I arch up, whispering into his ear.

"Inside me. Come inside me, please. It's safe, I promise. Please–"

Eli lets out a shuddering groan, sinking into me to the hilt again, his knot pressed tightly against my folds. His hips jerk, and for a moment I think he's going to lose control, that he's going to force his knot into me. I know, in that split second, that I'd let him.

If there was a chance we could experience it together, I would want to.

Eli rocks against me, and I moan, pressing my lips to his throat. I feel him rub against my clit with each movement, grinding against me, and I let out a shivering gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders.

"I'm going to come," I whisper into his ear. "I'm going to come with you. Come inside me, please–"

He lets out a moan that ends in my name, pressing me down into the pillows as he draws out, shuddering as his cockhead rubs against the very edge of my entrance. I arch up, trying to pull him back in with my hold on him, and then he thrusts into me once more–a long, hot slide that sends my nails raking down his back when I feel his knot press against me again.

I feel him go hard, harder than I've ever felt before. And then he presses his lips to my shoulder, hips bucking, and cries out my name.

A hot rush fills me, his cock throbbing inside of me, and it triggers my orgasm, too. I arch upwards, crying out as the pleasure crashes over me, nails digging furrows into his skin as I clench and ripple around him. Eli lets out a pained groan, his hips rocking into mine, his cock still spasming as we come together, and it feels endless.

It feels right. It feels so fucking good.

He rocks against me, moving slowly, his cock still pulsing. He moans again, his lips dragging down my throat, breathless as he finally sags against me, his weight just to one side so he doesn't crush me. His cock is still half-hard, buried inside me, and I can feel the heat and stickiness of his cum leaking out between us onto my thighs. I'm going to have to put in some work to clean this couch–but it's worth it.

Everything with him feels worth it.

"I've never let anyone do that before," I whisper softly, and Eli picks himself up a little. "I've had a birth control implant for years–but I never wanted anyone to. Not until you."

It feels like a vulnerable thing to admit. I don't expect him to say the same, but he looks down at me with an expression that takes my breath away. There's desire in it, and longing, and something else I'm afraid to put a name to. Whatever drew us together, I can feel it tightening. I can feel that this is becoming more than I wonder if either of us can handle.

Eli slides his hand down my side, his broad, callused palm skimming over my damp skin, and every thought flees from my head immediately.

"I never have either," he murmurs quietly.

"Really?" I look at him in partial disbelief, and he shakes his head.

"There's no condom that could fit me. And without one–well, when you take as many strangers to bed as I have, you don't go trusting their word that they're protected. I've avoided any mistakes by making sure I always pull out, so far."

I don't know quite how to feel. A part of me hates hearing him talk about anyone else while he's still literally inside of me. And yet, at the same time–

"We're sharing an awful lot of firsts," I whisper. "Mostly for you. The date. Tonight. And now–"

I feel him harden inside of me, thickening, stretching me as he moves to lean over me again, still buried to the hilt. "I want to do it again," he murmurs. "Again, and again, if you'll let me. I want you so full of my cum that by the time I'm finished, you can't take any more." His hips move, sliding slowly inside of me, and I can feel the thick heat. "Tell me yes, Wisteria."

I'm sore now. I'll be even more sore in the morning. But I don't want to stop. I wrap my arms around his neck, looking up into his eyes, gone dark grey with lust.

"Take me to bed," I whisper. "And don't stop coming inside me until you can't come any more."

Eli groans, surging into me once, a hard thrust that leaves me shuddering. And then his arms go around me, lifting me as if I weigh nothing, my legs locking around his hips as he stands.

He's still inside me as he starts to carry me down the hall to the bedroom, and I moan as I feel him rocking inside of me with every step, pleasure rippling over my skin. Halfway down the hall, Eli growls, turning sharply to press me to the wall as his lips graze over my ear.

"I need–" He exhales, his hips thrusting, pushing himself deeper into me. "Fuck–I need–"

I cling to him as he pushes me up against the wall, hips bucking against me in powerful thrusts. His knot rubs against my swollen, overstimulated clit, and I whimper, my legs tightening around him as I feel the orgasm build–

Eli's mouth presses against my neck, sucking, nipping, and another climax crashes over me. I hear him groan, feel him harden and swell inside of me, another rush of heat filling me as he comes hard, throbbing as he holds me pinned. He shudders, his hands squeezing my hips, the two of us rocking together as I feel his cum fill me.

He kisses me, hard, and pulls me away from the wall. He's still pulsing inside of me as he carries me to the bedroom, spilling me back onto the bed, his cock hard again as we both fall back into the pillows. Eli is panting, thrusting, his eyes dark as he looks down on me with a foggy, lust-filled confusion.

"Wisteria–" He moans my name, hands roving over my body. "This feels like–fuck. This feels like rut. But it's not–"

It's not the full moon. It's halfway through the moon cycle, not close enough for it to happen, based on what both he and Penelope have told me. But I feel his hips surging against me, his cock as rock-hard as if he hasn't already come twice, his cum spilling out between us.

"I can't stop," he groans. "Fuck, I can't–"

It's as if letting him come inside of me unleashed something in him, as if telling him he could keep going has tipped him over some invisible edge. I feel him start to pull away, and I cling to him, not wanting him to stop, either.

This gorgeous, wild man wants me so badly he can't stop fucking me. I've done this, somehow, sent him into this spiral of desire, and it's the hottest fucking thing that's ever happened to me. I don't want it to end.

"I'll knot you." He pulls back, his eyes beginning to glint silver. "Wisteria–"

"No." I shake my head. "You won't. I trust you."

"It feels like rut. I won't be able to control myself, the longer this goes on. I–"

"You said that only happens with shifters. I'm human, remember?" I run my hands through his hair, my legs still tangled with his, pulling him deeper. "Fuck me, Eli. Come in me. I can take it."

He lets out a pained groan, his mouth on my throat as he surges inside of me again. As his knot rubs against me, I feel another orgasm building, and I let my head fall back, surrendering to the pleasure.

I've never felt anything like this. We're not going to sleep tonight, I feel sure of it.

But that's a sacrifice I'm willing to make.