I winced, my mood dimming slightly at the thought. “I don’t know. It’s complicated. He’s human, West. And telling him... it’s a lot. What if he freaks out? What if he looks at me the way James did? And it ends the way that did.”
West’s expression softened, and he reached out, squeezing my hand on the desk. “Holden, Mylo’s not James. And from what you’ve told me, it sounds like he’s into you too. I think he deserves to know. Adalbern wouldn’t send a mate that would?—”
“Run screaming,” I chimed in.
West’s face was serious. “You deserve to be happy,” he said simply.
I swallowed, the weight of his words settling in my chest. I knew he was right—intellectually, I knew that. But the fear still gnawed at me, like a living thing threatening to swallow me whole. It was always there, whispering that I was risking everything if I let Mylo in.
I would rather my mate be whole, happy, and alive... than the alternative.
What about with someone else?
My bear and I growled at the thought.
I was definitely not that good a person.
“Whatever that thought was should be all the motivation you need to tell him,” West said, amusement dripping from his voice.
“Maybe,” I said finally, my voice low. “But not yet. I want to win him over first, you know? Show him that we could work, that we could be something real. And maybe... maybe feel him out a bit, see how he’d react if he found out about shifters.”
West nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “Alright, big brother. Just don’t take too long. You never know how much time you have.”
I nodded, his words hitting a little too close to home. “Yeah. Yeah. I hear you.”
He nodded once before standing up. “Alright, I’ll leave you to your paperwork. But seriously, Holden... don’t let fear hold you back. It won’t happen this time. You have to believe that.”
His words echoed in my head as I watched him leave the office. I knew I shouldn’t let fear lead. I sighed, but it was fucking easier said than done. It wasn’t even about him finding out about shifters or exposing our secret—it was about him running in fear, possibly hurting himself... because all he could see me as was a monster.
But for Mylo... maybe it was worth trying. Maybe he was worth everything.
I sighed. I just needed to figure out how to actually do it.There really ought to be a manual—How to Tell Your Human Mate You’re a Shifter Without Killing Him... or Making Him Run Screaming: The Comprehensive Guide.
I tried to focus back on work, but the numbers blurred in front of me for a second.
My bear rumbled softly, an agreement settling between us.We both wanted Mylo.And maybe, just maybe, we could find a way to make it work.
As the day went on, I found myself thinking more and more about him. About the way his eyes had lit up when I’d invited him to the bourbon tasting, the way he’d leaned into me when I’d helped him back to his room. He was everything I never knewI wanted—bright, kind, and so damn brave. And I couldn’t help but want to be the one who made him happy, who kept him safe.
Also, just thinking about what he’d said—about me ravaging him during his heat—I needed to count past ten before my cock went from attention to at ease.
By the time I finished up in the office for the day, the sun was already dipping low on the horizon, casting a golden glow over the resort. I made my way to the kitchen, hoping to catch Mylo before he left for the day. I needed to see him, to apologize for making myself scarce during the bourbon tasting. I’d been a coward, and he deserved better.
I headed over to his cabin, rehearsing my apology every step of the way. I knocked twice, but there was nothing—no movement, just quiet. Great. He wasn’t home. I knew he wasn’t working today; I’d made sure Noah told him he had the day off, but apparently, he wasn’t here either.
Maybe it’s a sign.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MYLO
I wokeup with the kind of headache that felt like a jackhammer was trying to break free from my skull... or was itbreakmy skull? My mouth felt like I’d been walking through the damn Sahara with no water in sight, and I was five seconds from puking my guts up like my life depended on it. I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut tighter, trying to will the headache away—like that would work.
Right. Bourbon tasting. Or, more accurately, bourbon drinking.I didn’t even want to think about how much I’d had to drink last night. No wonder my brain felt like some cartoon mouse was trying to split it in half with an axe... or was it a cartoon cat?
Like it mattered. I tried to move but decided to just curl up and die where I was.
Sothiswas a hangover.Never. Ever. Again.
