Opening the door, I expected to see Catcher, who occasionally slept by my door. Instead, I met eyes with Archer’s wolf. Though I hadn’t seen everyone’s wolf, Archer was easily identifiable by his missing front leg. Though he had shifted in front of me earlier, he looked different now in a curtain of rain.
The wolf lowered his head. I froze with uncertainty.
A silver chain sparkled from his teeth, and he dropped it at the threshold.
“My charms!” I wanted to reach out and grab it, but I was leery of shoving my arm beneath a wolf’s jaws.
As if sensing my apprehension, he hopped back a step. I crouched and collected my bracelet, clutching it tightly. It was the only meaningful possession in my life, and I’d never expected to see it again. In recent days, healing had been my priority, not going back to a place filled with terrible memories. Noah knew how much I loved the bracelet, and I’d feared he would toss it into the trash or take it with him out of spite.
Now on my knees, I looked up at Archer’s wolf. The rain beat down on his coat as he cocked his head to the side.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I said.
He hopped forward and made a nonthreatening vocalization that hovered between a whine and yawn.
“You poor thing. You’re soaked.”
Catcher’s wolf stayed outside most nights, and when it rained, he slept under the deck. But why was Archer’s wolf out this late? Had he really traversed all the way to Noah’s house to bring me this? Archer could have driven the truck, but it was his wolf who’d brought it.
After putting on the bracelet, I stood and caught my hand on the door when he hopped past me and went inside.
“Well, come right in.” I shut the door and locked it. Lookingat the mud puddles, I quickly retrieved a towel from the bathroom. “Do you mind if I… dry you off?”
His wolf sat and gave me a cheerful smile. After kneeling, I carefully wiped his chest. Archer suddenly shook his whole body, and I squealed as water sprayed the kitchen.
While I gently dried his coat, his relentless licking put me at ease. “Good boy,” I said in my friendliest voice. “You’re a pretty wolf.”
Though he seemed tame enough, I reminded myself that Archer was asleep in there, so I didn’t make any sudden or threatening movements that might instigate an attack. When I finished drying him off as much as possible, I sat back on my heels and admired him.
He was a gorgeous animal with cream-colored fur and streaks of blond that were lighter when dry. His underside and snout were as white as fallen snow. After letting him sniff my hand, I stroked his neck. His dense fur was coarse on top, but when my fingers burrowed deep down, the texture was soft like rabbit fur. He panted, tongue hanging out as he turned his head and sniffed the air.
“You don’t get any pie,” I informed him, amused that he could pick up the scent. “That’s for me.”
I stroked the left side over the furry stump, giving it the same attention as his right leg. Even in wolf form, Archer felt powerful and in shape. “You’re a handsome wolf. I must be crazy for doing this. You’re not going to bite me, are you?”
He whined and licked my hand.
“You must be exhausted. I can’t believe you ran all that way just to bring me this.”
Upon hearing the familiar clinking of charms on my wrist, an overwhelming sense of relief swept through me.
Filled with gratitude, I cautiously wrapped my arms around the wolf.
“Thank you,” I whispered, burying my face in his neck. “This means everything.”
When his fur transformed into hard flesh, I reeled back in surprise.
Archer sat on his knees, his right arm braced on the floor. As he raised his head and noticed his surroundings, he twisted away but not to hide his privates. He quickly grabbed the towel and draped it over his shoulder.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I don’t want you to see it.”
Then it hit me like a ton of bricks: Archer had never been shirtless around me, even when we were intimate. For whatever reason, he didn’t want me to see his arm.
I touched his cheek, turning his head to face me. “All I see is you, Archer. And you’re the most perfect man I’ve ever known.” My fingers traced across his shoulder as I pushed the towel off.
Tears shimmered in his eyes—tears of shame. Fear of judgment.
