I laugh and turn to punch him in the shoulder. He captures my hand and pulls me out of the bathroom and toward the bed.
“Um, there is no chance in hell that I’m getting in that bed,” I tell him and try to tug my hand out of his grip.
“They get a new mattress and new sheets after every mated couple. They give the couple the mattress and sheets for their own use as a present.”
I furrow my brow in doubt at his statement.
“Everything smells clean,” he tells me, folding back the bedding and pulling me hesitantly into the sheets.
They’re cool and soft and smell like pine trees. Torrez’s warm body is inviting, and I press into him for warmth and a much needed distraction from lying in an unknown bed, in an unknown country, in an unknown pack’s territory. He nestles me under his arm, our naked chests pressed together, and plays with the ends of my long hair down my back as we settle in.
“So, Torrez—”
“Teo, call me Teo,” he interrupts.
“But I know you as Torrez.”
“Yeah, but that’s my last name, and we’re all mated for life and shit, so you should call me Teo.”
I’m quiet for a beat, mulling over how weird it would be not to think of him as just Torrez. “So, Wolf,” I say instead.
He laughs. “Fair enough,” he concedes. “Yes, Witch?”
I chuckle at the equally hideous pet name. “Like you said, we’re all mated and shit, so we should probably, you know, get to know each other?” My statement comes out more like a question, and he vibrates with laughter against my body.
“What, you’re telling me you want to know all about my childhood and every detail of my life until now? We might be here for a while,” he teases and then presses my body tighter against him. “Although I suppose there’s nothing wrong with being here for a while,” he admits, his voice lowering seductively.
I run my fingers through the short black hair on his chest and laugh. “No, nothing wrong with that at all,” I agree. “I don’t need every detail; I’m sure there’s a lot of time spent on the toilet that’s not pertinent to our future lives together, and in your case, a good chunk of time scratching yourself in wolf form. You can skip all of that,” I tell him.
He laughs even harder and slaps my ass. I squeak in surprise and clench my thighs together as the sting moves from my cheek to my clit. I can practically smell the arousal that suddenly perfumes the room, but Torrez doesn’t acknowledge it.
“You want details, but not too many.” He trails off for a second. “Let’s see… I’m originally from a pack in Canada, but most of that pack, including my parents and four brothers, were wiped out in a fight over land with another pack.”
I sit up to stare at Torrez’s face, but he’s not wearing any hurt or sadness. He’s just stating the loss of his family as fact, just a part of his story. I run my hand over his cheek, and he leans into it slightly and nuzzles my palm. I rest my head back down on his chest and wait for him to say more.
“I migrated south with other survivors of my pack and broke off on my own with a couple of other bachelors when we came of age. We traveled a lot and ended up in Maine somehow. One of our group met his mate in the Silas pack. I was tired of roaming, so I petitioned Silas to join, and I’ve been there for about forty years now.”
I choke on air and sit up to cough. “You what? How old are you?”
“I’ll be 109 in January.”
13
“Holy shit!” I exclaim and try and then fail to process that number.
“Shifters live about four times the lifespan of humans. We age at the same rate as most nons until we hit puberty, and then it slows down. Did you not know that?” he asks confused.
He sits up next to me and watches my face. “I didnotknow that. I mean, it is what it is, but what are you doing with a twenty-two-year-old? Don’t you want to be with someone who can talk about the good ol’ days of prohibition and the discovery of the Americas and shit?”
He narrows his eyes at me and then pounces. He presses me back against the bed, and I laugh hysterically. He starts to tickle me, and I squeal and writhe to get away from him.
“The discovery of the Americas, really?” he demands.
“It’s not my fault you’re old!” I shout at him and wiggle to get away from his hands.
“I’m not old; by shifters’ standards, I’m like twenty-eight.”
“Yeah, but by my standards, you’re ancient as fuck. Oh man, just wait until the others find out. I can hear the geriatric jokes now.”
