“She sought my eye contact; she gets her wish.”
Crap. “Mal, what if she can’t?”
“Given the likelihood, I won’t hold it against her.”
When they reached the house, Ember’s shoe still lay where it had fallen on the porch. She hadn’t come outside even to retrieve it. He scooped it up. Good green earth, her feet were tiny. From inside their voices reached him easily as well as the stress in Quinn’s scent. Of course he smelled the tension between his alpha and his guardian.
“A-11,” Quinn said.
“Miss,” Ember said.
“That’s literally impossible.”
“It’s literally not. Look at your board again.”
Right. Battleship. Not the first time Quinn had tried to distract himself from stress with a board game. They both went silent when Aaron opened the door and came in. He set Ember’s shoe with the other one, then padded to the living room, Malachi following now.
Quinn was sprawled on the brown leather couch, dressed in the same shorts and a yellow hoodie he’d left unzipped. In the matching chair, her back to Aaron, Ember had curled up, knees to chest. She balanced a Battleship board on the arm of the chair, and Quinn held the other on his lap.
Ember swiveled her neck to find Aaron and gave a little jump when she saw he wasn’t alone. “Oh. Hi.”
Aaron sat cross-legged on the floor and draped his arms over his knees. Something in him yearned to put her at ease, which made little sense given the imminent disruption. She kept glancing at Malachi, who remained on his feet at the room’s threshold.
“If you’re staying even for a day,” Aaron said, “there’s something we need to take care of.”
“What, an NDA? I’ll pass.”
He couldn’t help the chuckle that shook his chest. “We’re not a corporation with trade secrets.”
Ember uncurled in her chair, knees lowering. Defiance lingered in her scent, but readiness crept in too. “Well?”
“Okay, um, context.” He’d never explained this before except to Quinn during one of the pup’s first lessons. Finding the words for a pack outsider… “When you interact publicly with wolves—say, in the grocery store, at a restaurant—you’re not making full eye contact with us. We shield you from our full gaze, because if we don’t, your nervous system reacts like prey.”
Ember blinked. Looked to Quinn.
“Yeah, it’s true,” Quinn said.
“Right now?” she said. “That’s impossible. You’re looking right at me.”
“Not totally.” Quinn shook his head. “I haven’t this whole time.”
She refocused on Aaron, her attempt to snare his gaze obvious as she blinked and stared and tilted her head. “Okay, I don’t get it, but go on.”
“There’s a process called acclimation. It takes a minute or maybe two, varies depending on the person. Basically, I let you make eye contact, and your brain acclimates to my gaze. To my full self, as a wolf. After that I no longer have to shield you.”
“So what’s the catch?” She folded her arms across her chest, and the defiance poured back in, a smoky layer wrapping around her essence, her worry, and the never-surrender resolve that smelled more like another layer of Ember than like a passing mood. “Clearly there’s a catch.”
“Yeah. For that minute or two, you’re going to be terrified. Your body will tell you to run for your life.”
She didn’t even blink, kept staring.
“You can’t meet my eyes unless I want you to,” he said, just so she’d give herself a break.
“Uh-huh.” Another few seconds went by, and then she shook her head. “It’s got to be some kind of gimmick. Iammaking eye contact with you.”
“Right,” he said. “ButI’mnot making full eye contact withyou.”
This was not going at all the way it was supposed to. He restrained himself from pulling his own hair. She didn’t believe him? She thought she could take care of it herself by staring at him long enough? What was with this woman? Behind him, Malachi stood still and silent, utterly unhelpful.
