“Maybe I could tag along to wherever you were going?” Quin tried.
“I was going to feed. Typically a solo activity.”
“Two’s company?” Quin asked, mentally crossing his fingers.
“More like you should put two and two together,” Kit said, unamused.
“Ooh, idiom war!” Quin clapped his hands. “It takes two to tango. The third time’s a charm. Good things come in threes. Or in small packages, but that one’s more relevant to you than to me.”
Kit looked gobsmacked. “Did you just accuse me of having a small package?”
“No? Yes?”
“Rude.”
“We’ve got off on the wrong foot,” Quin said, now unable to speak in anythingotherthan idioms. Things had been much easier when he’d been in his beast form. Perhaps he should shut his mouth. He did so, pressing his lips into a firm line, trying to stay quiet.
Kit looked him up and down. “I would agree.” When Quin said nothing, Kit filled the silence. “You can leave now.”
Quin fought not to hang his head. “I suppose so.” None of this had gone how he’d imagined it would at all. Making friendsas an adult was hard. “It was good to see you. Maybe we’ll run into each other.”
“As long as it’s not in a dark forest with you chasing me,” Kit said. “That was super fucking creepy of you, by the way. And stalking me to my house is also creeper behaviour, just so you know.”
Quin’s stomach twisted. “Sorry. I didn’t—I’m not… Fuck. I only wanted to say hi.”
“Hi. Bye,” Kit said, and in a blink, disappeared.
Quin watched the space where Kit had stood for a few long seconds. That could have gone better.
But it also could have gone a whole lot worse.
FIVE
Kit
Just who thefuck did this werewolf think he was?
Kit hadn’t expected to see him—Quin—in human form. And he certainly hadn’t expected him to look likethat. Tall, thick with muscle all over, sky-blue eyes, and styled dark hair pushed off his face with a beard to match. Kit supposed that Quin grew the beard to cover up a weak chin.
Kit was kidding himself. Quin probably had a perfect square jaw under the scruff. Of course he would. Because the werewolf was all of Kit’s fantasy men combined into one.
It was horrendous. Kit had never wanted to bite anyone more in his life. He’d had to restrain himself during their entire conversation.
And Quin’svoice. Kit never would have put the melodic Welsh accent up there on his list of attractive accents, but it stole first place with a few words from Quin. Deep but soft, his voice matched Kit’s overall impression of him as a gentle giant.
The longer Kit stood there, with Quin bumbling over his words, the more Kit wanted to like him.
But he couldn’t.
Not only was Quin a werewolf, which made him dangerous, but he’d tracked Kit down. Sure, Kit’s guts told him that Quin was no real threat, and Kit was almost certainly faster and stronger than him when in human form, but Kit had a rule.
Don’t let anyone in.
Bad enough that Kit stopped to have an entire conversation. He should have run away. Kit cursed himself for being nice to Quin when he was in his werewolf form. Kit’s own damn fault for inviting trouble into his life.
But now he had the problem of an overfamiliar werewolf in his new home. Kit moved around a lot, but he liked where he lived now. He had the sea. The weather was milder than on the islands. He could travel around more easily, and the steady stream of tourists ensured a varied diet. So, he didn’t want to leave.
Which meant the werewolf had to be the one to move.
