Nope. Absolutely not. Not happening. Not on my watch.
I casually—okay, not casually—yank my foot back and kick the cup away with enough force that it skitters across the floor like a hockey puck. I scan the aisle, hoping no one saw me. Safe. Whew. I should maybe look first, act later.
“Jason?” Violet murmurs. “Did you bump something?”
I wag my tail. Fuck my life.
Then she pats my head. “Good boy for warning me.”
That’s right. I am a protector. A guardian. A badass alpha.
Who just kicked a plastic cup. If the guys ever find out about this, I’m never going to live it down.
When the Uber pulls up, I really start losing hope. Is this it? Are we really heading home? Am I going to end up scavenging for squirrels or raiding her neighbor’s bins like some feral raccoon? Maybe if I beg hard enough, the guys will take pity and bring me food.
God, they’ll love that. Showing up with kibble like it’s a care package for the world’s largest stray. Not fucking happening. Scavenging it is.
I try to be salty about it, I really do, but it’s kinda impossible when she strokes the spot between my ears in those slow, soothing circles that turn my spine into warm butter. Her fingers find that spot just behind my temple and… oh yeah. I’m useless.
Not once in the store did she doubt me. Not once did she hesitate or question the direction I nudged her in, or second-guess the subtle signals I gave her. She moved like we were connected. Like she trusted whatever instinct guided my paws. She put all her trust in me.Me.
A wolf pretending to be domesticated. And that felt… good. Too good.
Something in my chest quietly detonates, and it’s a little terrifying. It’s not pain, not fear. Something else entirely. Something I have no damn business feeling while wearing a leash. But then it hits me. She trusts me when all I’m doing is using her to hide in plain sight.
I don’t like this feeling, so I do what I do best when I don’t want to think or feel or…anything. I push it right down and cover it with all my other sins.
We pull up to a store, and hope lights up in me like the Vegas Strip, because this must be it. God, I hope this is it. When thescent hits me, I damn near drool all over the seat. The sharp metallic tang of warm fat, blood, and raw meat hits me through the closed windows of the car, and my wolf brain immediately misfires.
Every rational human thought just evaporates until all that’s left is meat. Meat now. Get meat. Take meat. Roll in meat.
Fuck me.
The instincts roar so loud I barely remember I’m supposed to be civilized.
We exit the Uber, and the scent slams into me again, stronger this time, thick enough to taste. My mouth waters embarrassingly fast. I swallow hard, which does nothing. I think I drool on the sidewalk a little.
With each step toward the butcher’s counter, I have to remind myself over and over that I’m leading Violet, and I should not take off like a greyhound hearing the starting gun. But Christ, it’s not easy. Every muscle wants to sprint. Every nerve is vibrating so hard, I’m certain Violet can feel it through the leash. I force my steps to slow, to be controlled and polite. Yes, I am a respectable “service dog.”
But the closer we get, the harder it is to pretend I’m anything other than seconds away from licking the glass.
It’s also almost impossible not to kiss her full on the lips when she utters the next sentence. “Hi! I’d like to put my dog on a raw diet.”
I must zone out or black out or something while I commit every piece of meat to memory because the next thing I know, the butcher packs everything on the counter. “Here you go.”
“And you think it’s going to be enough for my dog?”
The butcher leans over the counter. “Well, what kind of dog do you have?”
She touches my neck, then my shoulder, then runs her hand down my side. “Um… a big one.”
The butcher laughs. “Ma’am, he’s enormous. You’re definitely gonna want more than that.”
She gasps. “Oh! Really? I thought maybe I was going overboard!”
A mountain of meat already sits on the counter. Is she seriously buying all this for me? Holy shit. I think I’m in love. She places the order, signs up for biweekly delivery, and I sit there, stunned, as she spends what must be a fortune without batting an eye. Humans would slit throats for this kind of meat. And she’s just buying it for her dog. For me. She doesn’t even know I’m a man, not a dog.
Wolf. Alpha. Criminal. I’m going to have to bury things way deeper.
