Mine.
I let the hot water pound against my shoulders and replay the morning. Toby in my bathtub, eyes soft, saying he was falling. The way he'd kissed me—gentle, sweet, nothing like the desperate hunger of last night. The quiet certainty in his voice when he saidtelling, definitely telling.
He wants me to take charge. Wants me to claim him, keep him, make decisions. And I want that too. Want to wrap him up in my life and never let him go.
My lion rumbles with satisfaction. We have a mate. A real mate, not just a warm body to burn off energy with. Someone who sees us—the teeth, the gold eyes, the predator underneath—and doesn't run. Someone who laughs when we growl.
I'm grinning like an idiot as I shut off the water. Towel off quickly, throw on jeans, don't bother with a shirt. Toby's downstairs with coffee, probably charming my entire pack with his ridiculous cardigans and his book recommendations. Maybe I'll convince him to call in sick after all. Keep him in bed all day, order food, learn every inch of him that I didn't get to explore last night.
The bar is quiet when I come down the stairs. Morning light through the windows, dust motes floating in the air, the smell of fresh coffee.
But something's wrong.
Jason's standing by the door, keys in his hand, looking confused. Ezra's behind the bar, very focused on his inventory clipboard. Silas is at his usual table, but his book is closed and he's staring at the wood grain like it holds the secrets of the universe.
No Toby.
"Where's Toby?"
Jason turns, and his expression makes my stomach drop. "He left. His roommate picked him up."
"What?" I look around like Toby might be hiding somewhere, like this is a joke I'm not getting. "Why? You were supposed to drive him."
"I know! I was ready to go, keys and everything, but he just..." Jason shrugs helplessly. "Left. Said to tell you thanks for everything."
Thanks for everything. Like I'm a hotel. Like last night was a transaction.
"He was being weird," Jason adds, frowning. "Changed out of your shirt. Wouldn't really look at anyone."
My lion goes very still. That's wrong. That's all wrong. Toby was supposed to be wearing my shirt, my scent, walking around marked and claimed and happy about it. He'dwantedthat. He'd shivered when I said everyone would know who he belonged to.
"Why would he—"
"We might have mentioned the spare clothes drawer," Silas says quietly.
I turn to look at him. "The what?"
"You know." Ezra still won't meet my eyes, still staring at his clipboard like his life depends on accurate bottle counts. "The drawer of clothes. For when people stay over. I told him where it was."
Ice slides down my spine. Slow. Cold. Spreading.
"What exactly did you tell him?"
"Just that we keep spares around." Ezra's voice is too casual, the kind of casual that means he knows he fucked up. "For when people need something clean to wear home after staying over."
"And that it happens a lot," Silas adds, still not looking up. "With you especially."
The ice reaches my chest. Wraps around my lungs.
"Especially with—" I can't get enough air. "What the fuck did you say to him?"
"Nothing bad!" Ezra protests, finally looking at me. His face is pale. "Just that you have people over regularly. It's not like it's a secret, Knox. Everyone knows you—"
"What. Else."
Ezra swallows. "I might have mentioned that wolf from Riverside pack."
"The one who stayed three days," Silas supplies, like he's trying to be helpful. Like he's not twisting the knife deeper with every word.
