“I—I took you to the cookout.”
“You also took Quinn to the cookout. We ate with Quinn. We socialized with your whole pack. Not a date, dude. Platonic.”
It hadn’t been platonic to him. It had been momentous, letting the wolves know her, introducing her to the pack that would become hers if she did choose to stay. He closed his eyes. He was trying not to try too hard, not to hope too hard, and in doing so…had he botched the whole thing?
She squeezed his hands, and then she released one to rub his forearm, her touch gentle. “Sorry, you’re tired and hurting and I’m being sort of blunt.”
“No, don’t apologize. I…I’m listening.” Trying to.
“Well, if you’re feeling up to a question, I am intrigued.” She sat on the other end of the couch, by his feet. “The whole no-hookups policy—is it an Aaron thing, or a wolf thing?”
“Both.” He shrugged. He wasn’t sure how to separate the two in this case.
“But some wolves are open to casual sex?”
A growl rumbled in his chest. He couldn’t hold it back.
Her mouth tilted in a tease. “Solid answer. As long as we can agree a little making out never hurt anybody.”
His organs were on fire, the awful heat building. Ember, his Ember—he saw her walking away with some other more casual guy, making out with that guy because he knew better how to show her what she meant to him, but Aaron must not let that happen because she was…Mine, my mate, my Ember, mine.His lips pulled back from his teeth, and he turned his head, but she could still see his face.
“Aaron?”
“It’s fine.” He cleared his throat. “I just can’t take joking right now.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “But this doesn’t have to get weird. We can talk about something else. And tomorrow, if you want, I’ll find out from Malachi if there’s somewhere else I can stay.”
“No. You’re here for Quinn. You’ll stay with Quinn.”
“You really don’t mind?”
“I want you to stay.” Forever.
“How do we salvage?” She spread her hands. “We need to keep you awake, and you need to finish eating at least the beef. Which is probably cold now. One minute.”
She left with the dish, and from the kitchen the microwave beeped, then thirty seconds later beeped again. When she brought it back, he finished all of it and still felt ravenous. A strong sign they had kept shock at bay. He took Tylenol, drank another glass of water, and then he really could have slept.
“Rewind,” she said as she set the empty glass on the side table beside the dish and fork. “The land owned by the wolves. Tell me all about it.”
Yeah. Safe topic. They could salvage this. When Ember left, he wanted them to be friends. He wanted her to know she was welcome here, to visit Quinn. To visit him. Maybe he couldn’t prove her place here before the full moon, but that didn’t mean he’d never prove it. He had to keep telling himself that.
“As adults we all extended permission to each other to cross property lines at will,” he said. “I guess that sounds territorial or something, maybe animalistic, but a wolf’s land is…intensely his.”
“Y’all are intense about an awful lot of things.”
“Yeah.”
She nodded him on. “You saidas adults. When you were pups, did you roam at will?”
“On the land that would belong to us. Ezra and Trevor always knew their inheritances; Sterlings have been here forever. George—he was my guardian and the pack’s medic before me—he told me his land would pass to me. Arlo and Rebecca raised Malachi from the time he came, but of course his land was bequeathed to him by the alpha before him. So…yeah, we knew our own future properties, and the adults encouraged us to explore. I loved running up the foothills, challenging my wolf gifts. And water…there’s something about running water, the sound and smell of it. Even as a pup I would find a stream when I needed time to myself.”
He was rambling, eyelids growing heavy, but she didn’t seem to mind.
“It’s just always felt right. Kin to me. Alive and clean and simple. I love the stream that runs across my land. I love standing beside it, listening to it, cupping some in my hand to drink. It’s a source spring, good and sweet.”
“That’s really beautiful,” she said. “This is an odd transition, but… it’s almost the way I’d describe my favorite recipes. Seeing something I created on a plate, presented to be beautiful, ready to be enjoyed, ready to nourish.”
He chuckled. “Well, I didn’t create my spring.”
