“Are the two of us supposed to eat the whole lot?” Wolfe asked, eyeing the size of Eric’s offerings.
If they were, it would be a feat indeed. Eric had an occasional sweet tooth, but Wolfe decidedly did not. Unless one counted his taste for Eric’s blood and body and soul—those had sweetness no dime-store candies could hope to achieve.
“It’s for the kids.”
“Whose?”
Eric finally turned from his rummaging and gave Wolfe his full attention. It was about time. “The trick-or-treaters.”
When Wolfe only cocked a brow, Eric huffed. “Wolfe. It’s Halloween tomorrow.”
He said it as if this explained everything. Which it, in fact, did not.
“And we’re hosting the neighborhood?” Wolfe asked.
“Well, I thought—” Eric cleared his throat, fidgeting with the strap of the grocery bag. “I know we usually go to Danny’s, and we still can. After.” He said it as if Wolfe was the one dying to socialize. “But I’ve never gotten to hand out candy from my own home, you know.”
He turned away again, grabbing one of Wolfe’s exquisite carved wooden serving bowls and filling it with bite-sized candy bars. His neck and ears had gone red, as if he was somehow embarrassed by his admission.
Intriguing.
Wolfe sidled closer, his eyes on the back of Eric’s neck as his mate continued, “My parents were the kind of people that left the porch light off so we wouldn’t be bothered. They let me trick-or-treat, but they’d make me sell my candy back to them the next day. They acted like they were doing me a favor, but I didn’t want more allowance. I wanted my candy.”
Eric dumped another bag into the bowl, his tone even in that careful way that meant he was hiding deep hurt. “I used to eat as much as I could while I was still out, before they could get to it, and I’d always get a stomachache.” He sighed. “And then when I was living alone, I was always working. I’d take the Halloween shifts, since I didn’t have kids to take out or anything. Only seemed fair.”
Wolfe found himself caught in an unpleasant swirl of emotions. There was the familiar rage at Eric’s parents. A certain possessive fondness for the lonely man Eric had been, before Wolfe had caught him in his clutches. And then—something else. Not regret, exactly—Wolfe would never regret taking his mate for his own—but an annoying itch under his skin nonetheless.
Because there was something in Eric’s tone, either nostalgia or wistfulness, and the fact that Wolfe couldn’t place it was galling.
“Did you want children of your own?” Wolfe asked. He’d never posed the question before, because it had never seemed necessary. Eric had been miserable and lonely, and Wolfe had fixed all that, and all the rest had seemed meaningless.
His mild tone of voice must have set the hackles up on Eric’s lovely neck, because he turned, his gaze slightly wary. “I’m not that great with kids,” he said slowly.
“But you might have had a brood, hm?” Wolfe cocked his head, studying the slight defensiveness in Eric’s posture. “If I hadn’t stolen you.”
Eric ran a hand through his hair, his gaze darting away and then back again. “It’s…feasible. Maybe. I guess it would have depended on who I ended up with.”
They stared at each other. How odd, this irritation bubbling within Wolfe, when their lives usually ran so smoothly. Eric needed, Wolfe gave. Likewise, Wolfe craved, and Eric offered.
It worked so well.
And then this.
“You need a bath,” Wolfe said abruptly.
Eric blinked, then lifted his hands. “My paws aren’t muddy.”
A joke about the filthy mutt. Wolfe didn’t laugh. “Nonetheless. Join me upstairs when you’ve finished with…” Wolfe eyed the carved bowl, the bags still waiting to be distributed. “This.”
Wolfe strode up the stairs with great dignity, ignoring Eric’s confused and wary stare. In their en suite, he drew a bath for his mate, adding the scented oils of his choosing. He then undressed down to his undershirt and underwear, not wishing for his suit to get damp.
The irritation kept nagging at him. Wolfe never wanted Eric to be lacking in what he needed, but likewise Wolfe would never share him—or his affections—with a child, even if he were capable of providing one. Had it been longing or only nostalgia in Eric’s voice? There’d been no real sadness through the bond, no heaving turmoil. But some regrets were subtle.
The bath was full by the time Eric joined him. Delaying their reunion, perhaps?
Although, Eric didn’t look wary anymore. His handsome face had relaxed, and he looked…fond. Almost indulgent.
Good. Wolfe was in the mood to be indulged.
