He climbed into one of the trees, from where he could still see the cabin, lamplight glowing through the window. He wasn’t going to shift and amplify his cat’s confused hurt and insistence that he needed to go back to Karl, to his mate. Instead, he settled on a thick branch that stuck out at a forgiving angle, his arms resting on his knee, his head bowed.
He was furious with himself for not seeing how his lie had landed. He’d never even dreamt Karl might believe it, although heknewKarl had been scarcely conscious. And the result had been cruelty past imagining. To tell another shifter they were mates, to evoke all the promise and joy that was supposed to go along with that, then to wrench it away with a careless word…
Leon let his head fall back against the bark, eyes shut. He’d hurt Karl, so badly there weren’t even the words for it.
He wished he could be angry at Karl. His rejection of Leon’s declaration, ofLeon,hurt deep inside in a way nothing had for years, but after what Leon had done to him, Karl had every right. He’d looked at Leon like he’d just stabbed him.
“You’re a fucking disaster,” he told himself.
He should go back in, apologize again. Make everything okay again by saying it was a mistake, that he’d been wrong. But the thing was—hewasn’t.
So he stayed there in the dark, trying to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do.
Eventually, the cold started biting through his borrowed hoodie. Not enough to drive him inside, but enough to give him something else to focus on. Something that wasn’t Karl’s voice, tight with anger, sayingdon’t say it again.
He should stay out here longer, giving Karl space. And not incidentally, givehimselftime to get past this, so that when he went back to Karl, there’d be no trace of anything in his face except the confident, perfect cat he was. But his cat wasn’t prepared to wait any longer. It was urging him to go back, to make sure his mate was safe. He also knew that if he stayed out here, his brain would simply keep running in endless loops, round and round the same track, changing nothing.
He climbed down and made his way back to the cabin, each step deliberate as he ignored the clench of guilt and fear in his gut. He’d have to face Karl sooner or later. Might as well be sooner, get it over with.
Karl didn’t look at Leon, after the first sweep of his eyes to check it was only him coming through the door. He was tense and still in the bed, as if trying very hard to stay calm.
Leon paused just inside the doorway. “I can go again,” he said quietly. “Just came to check if you needed anything.”
Karl was silent for a moment. Then, low and tight, he said, “I need the bottle.”
Leon found it in the corner by the door. Checking it was clean, he crossed to Karl’s side and crouched beside him.
“I can help,” he said. “Or I can turn my back and leave it with you.”
Karl grimaced. “You think I’m gonna risk rolling off this bed and fucking up our plans?”
“No.” Leon’s voice was quiet. “I don’t.”
Silence stretched. Then Karl muttered, “Fine. Just don’t say anything.”
Leon didn’t. He helped without comment, without even meeting Karl’s eyes. And it hurt, somehow, that Karl still trusted him. That even now, he’d let Leon help him with something so personal. Leon didn’t know what to make of that.
Actually, he did—there was no one else to ask. That was the only reason.
When it was done, he cleared everything away, and washed his hands at the little basin in the corner. He didn’t ask if Karl needed anything else. Karl shouldn’t have to suffer his presence longer than he needed to.
He left, closing the door softly behind him.
KARL
After Leon left, the quiet settled back over him, heavy and suffocating. For a while, he didn’t think. Just listened to his breathing, slow and steady, holding on to that rhythm to quiet the clamor in his head.
But his wolf wasn’t helping as it prowled restlessly inside him, tail twitching, alert and hopeful. The moment Leon had walked through the door, it had whined in greeting. And when Leon had helped him—touchedhim—it had leaned into him, as if it had never doubted, never been hurt.
Mate, it said, confident and certain. As if it had made its choice long ago and was waiting for him to catch up.
He hated that. Hated how sure it was. Hated how… right it felt.
He closed his eyes. Because the truth, the ugly truth that was starting to slide in beneath the pain and the anger and the shame, was that he knew too. Maybe not in words, but in the way he’d started to listen for Leon’s voice, to want his presence. The way Leon’s constant grooming and smugness no longer annoyed him. Not really. And the occasional mischief in his eyes—he used todetestit, but now, somehow, he didn’t.
Karl had felt all of that and told himself it was nothing, reminded himself that Leon was smug, superior, and reckless. But when Leon had touched him just now, matter-of-fact yet gentle, it had felt right. He hadn’t wanted him to leave.
And now he was lying here, alone in the dark, his body broken, the truth circling closer than he could stand.
