Chapter 12

Geneva

W iley's been on edge for the last week. Last Saturday, I would have said I was ready to enroll Bo in Kindergarten at the local elementary school at the end of the month, but now I just don't know.

Maybe Wiley—who is never anything other than kind and loving—is tired of us?

As promised, he got us new identification, passports, and even a credit card with a ten-thousand dollar limit. My new birthdate makes me one and a half years older than I really am, but keeps Bo at the same age because of school. Technically, I'm Francis Jean Grey and Bo is Jacob Wiles Grey, but we are still using our normal names around those who know us.

Yes, Wiley gave us his last name. He said it would help us blend into the community, which coincidentally, has welcomed us with open arms.

I wish he would talk to me about what is bothering him, because not knowing scares me in a way that being yelled at by John never did. Maybe it's time for us to move on to the next location?

I've picked up a couple of house-cleaning jobs with Chrissy, and put a few hundred dollars in my pocket. It's not enough to start over, but more than I had when I left Spokane.

For the last three weeks, I've crept into Wiley's bed after Bo falls asleep. Wiley holds me, pleasures me, gives me multiple orgasms with his fingers and tongue, but when I reach for him he stops me. He swears it's not me—that the full moon affects his moods and stresses him out—and that it will be okay. He begged me to be patient with him, and I want to be, but I can't fathom a man not wanting to get off whenever he can.

Wiley snuck out of bed almost two hours ago. I don't know why I'm still laying here. I should've gone back to my room and snuggled Bo, but I feel like I'm waiting for something—a truth bomb that will explain everything and give me a clear path to what's next for us.

The door creaks open and Wiley sticks in his head. I don't pretend like I'm asleep even though that's exactly what I have done for the last week.

"Hi," I whisper.

"Did I wake you?"

"No."

"You've been laying here wondering where I am?"

"Yes."

Wiley crosses the room and sits on the bed next to me. With minimal effort, he pulls me into his arms and settles me on his lap. "I'm sorry, babe. I've been wrestling with some shit, but now I'm ready to talk about it. Nan's home and Jimmy's in his room. What do you think about getting dressed and taking a walk with me?"

"Okay." Over the last few weeks I've become comfortable with the family, confident they will protect Bo with their lives, and positive my son won't be afraid if he finds me gone. He's made comments alluding to the idea that he knows I slip out in the middle of the night.

I always say he's a smart little boy.

I try to extricate myself from Wiley's embrace, but he tightens his arms and cups my cheek in his hand to claim my lips with a possessive kiss. His scent wafts over us, fills my nostrils, and I sag against his chest—putty in his hands.

"I love you, Geneva." His eyes are doing the glowing thing again as he looks deep into mine.

"I…" Words stumble on my tongue as I stare back at him, confused about what I feel.

Do I love him? I think I do, but I'm not ready for this.

"You don't have to say it back. I just want you to know how I feel, because I've been doing a shitty job of showing it the last few days." He guides me to my feet. "Get dressed, babe. I'll meet you downstairs."

The living room is quiet, and the front door is open. Wiley steps into the threshold wearing a pair of jeans, his motorcycle boots, and a tight T-shirt that highlights how lean and muscular he is.

He grins and offers me his hand. I slide my fingers into his warm palm and let him guide me across the driveway and down the street to the park. "Someday, I'm going to take you for a ride on my Harley."

"I'd like that."

"Bo will be jealous," he points out.

"I guess you'll have to take him first."

"I think we're a few years away from that, unless he has a major growth spurt soon. But maybe we can take a trip to the motorcycle shop to get the both of you fitted for helmets." Wiley looks up at the moon. "And maybe Tom would let me borrow his TriGlide with the booster seat on the back."

"I love that you're thinking this through. It's very sweet." Yes, I snuck the L-word in there, and the gleam in Wiley's eye tells me he noticed.

We walk past the park to the woods bordering the end of the neighborhood. "Where are we going?"

"There's a clearing two hundred yards through the trees. It's beautiful and partially secluded."

"Wiley Grey, are you trying to get freaky in the woods?" I tease.

"Always." He chuckles and brings my hand to his mouth.

We walk down a well-worn path to a collection of rocks, a weathered wooden picnic table, and an abandoned fire pit. Wiley sits down and pulls me onto his lap. His eyes sparkle in the moonlight that seems brighter here than anywhere else in the world.

I thought we had pretty night skies outside of Spokane.

He takes a deep breath, parts his lips like he's about to say something, then closes them to glance around the terrain. "Sweet Fates. They should teach us how to talk about this when we're kids."

I wait patiently, lovingly sliding my hand over the muscles bunching in his back.

"They don't, of course, because none of us think we'll have to explain it to a human."

"Human?"

Wiley brings his eyes to mine again, but this time they aren't hazel green, nor glowing like reflective pools when we're in bed, but pitch black and inhuman. "Remember the wolf you saw at the creek? The one who fended off the black bear?"

"Did Bo tell you about that?"

"And the one who busted into Bearclaw Ammo before I showed up with my medical bag?"

"Yeah?" I draw out the one word.

"That was me."

I laugh in his face and rub my nose against his. "Yeah, right."

He picks me up and sets me down on the tabletop before taking a step back and pulling his T-shirt over his head. He keeps his eyes locked on mine as he undoes his belt and opens his jeans so they hang loose on his hips. "Try not to scream."

"Wha—" I don't get the word out before a giant gray wolf is wearing Wiley's jeans and boots.

"Ahhh…" I scramble off the table, putting it between us. Not that the decrepit piece of kindling will save me if this apex predator is hungry. "What the hell?"

The wolf jumps out of the jeans and boots, and performs a full body shake, his nose tilted up at the moon.

"Wiley?" I call toward the trees. This has to be a magic trick. Some sort of illusion he and his friends worked up. Either that, or I'm asleep and hallucinating. "This isn't funny."

The wolf turns to look at me, a small wuff coming from his lips before he turns back into Wiley. I can't even believe my eyes because there is no terrifying transformation like in the movies. His bones didn't pop, he didn't twist in agony as his body changed shape. In a split second, the giant gray wolf disappears and a naked Wiley stands in his place.

"Oh my god." The world spins on its axis as I fall to the ground.

Only, I don't hit the dirt. Wiley has me in his arms, holding me against his bare chest. "Babe?"

I stare up into his handsome human face. "Wiley, you're a werewolf."

"Shifter, but yeah."

"Do the others know?"

He snorts. "Yeah, they know."

I look up into the night sky and gasp. "Oh my god. Bo and I have to get out of here before the full moon."

Wiley presses his lips together, stifling a laugh. "What do you think will happen to you during the full moon?"

"I don't know!" I say a bit too loud for the middle of the night.

Chuckling, Wiley sits down and moves me like a rag doll so that I straddle his very naked lap. "I told you day one, nothing and no one will hurt you or Bo ever again. Yes, I'm a wolf shifter, but I'm still the same man you met three weeks ago. The mating bond drew me to you. The moment I scented you, I knew I was yours. Your response to my pheromones told me you were also mine. And sure, shifters get frisky during the full moon, but it doesn't cause us to shift uncontrollably or whatever you're thinking from whatever cheesy werewolf movies you've seen. And honestly, we really don't like being called werewolves. I'm a wolf shifter—plain and simple."

I shake my head. "How?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. It's genetics. Like some people have extra or missing chromosomes, I have both human and wolf genes plus an extra something that makes them work together flawlessly."

"You're not going to eat me?" I say with a smile. This is too crazy to believe, so it must be a dream. But even if it isn't, Wiley's right. He's still the sweet, sexy, protective man of my fantasies, so maybe I can figure out how to deal with this.

"Oh, I'm going to eat you." Wiley wraps his hands around my ass and pulls me closer, his hardening cock pressing against my pussy through the thin Lycra of my yoga pants. "The same way I've been eating you every night for the past few weeks."

I moan softly, inhaling his scent. "Is this the shit you've been wrestling with for the last week?"

"Yes, but there's one more thing."

"Okay?"

"I want to mark you."

Something about the direness in his tone has my head snapping back. "Mark? As in brand?"

"Fuck." He hangs his head. "Considering what that asshole did to you, I know this is the worst thing in the world I could ask of you."

"Then why ask it?"

"Because, without marking you as my mate, my wolf will grow restless. He'll turn into the asshole neither of us want him to be. I am yours. I'm biologically driven to watch over and protect you. Wearing my mark, having my serum in your veins, helps me do that."

I barely hear one word he says. The only thing running through my head is that Wiley wants to brand me like John did.

Without a second thought, I shake my head. "No."