Ezra couldn’t stop grinning as he typed.
Ezra:It is big. But they know you’re important to me.
She must be at work; he got no response. To be expected on a Wednesday. He’d taken a personal day; he had plenty stockpiled. He set his phone aside and lay back in the chair, contentment seeping into his bones. Willow would meet the pack soon.
Now that the business of his visit was dealt with, he and Malachi let silence settle over the cabin porch. If another wolf were here, the conversation would amble on, but Mal knew when to offer restful silence, a gift Ezra valued.
They’d sat shoulder to shoulder, soaking up the sunshine and the scents and sounds around them, for something like fifteen minutes when Ezra felt the tug toward talking again.
“Life’s weird,” he said.
Malachi’s gaze flicked toward him, then resumed a slow roving over the long-range mountain view that lay before them. “How so?”
“I wasn’t looking for her. I might still not have recognized her yet, if we hadn’t bumped hands by accident.”
“You mean by fate,” Malachi intoned, his rough voice unable to imitate elder Arlo’s, but his inflection made it clear enough.
Ezra gave a low chuckle. “That’s what I’m getting at. Weird.”
Malachi nodded.
“It’s got me wondering whoyourmate is. When she’ll show up, how you’ll know her.”
Malachi tilted his head back to gaze past the porch roof at the brightening, cloudless blue vault above them. “Fate didn’t bring anyone to William.”
“So?”
His shoulders lifted in a shrug, but his mouth was set, pensive. “It may be most alphas don’t find a mate. I’m not sure.”
“What’s the lore say?”
“Nothing definitive. Some alphas are mated, some aren’t.”
“Well, there you go.” Seemed obvious enough. But Malachi shook his head as if Ezra were simplifying too much. “Are you saying you’d like to find one?”
“My life is satisfying as it is. A mate would bring an element of…unpredictability.”
“Yep,” Ezra said. “Been less than a week since Cassius was talking me through the panic of unpredictability.”
Slowly, still studying the sky and the far-off mountain, Malachi nodded. His scent thickened with a sharp, almost painful tang of pure, rare vulnerability. Ezra breathed it in, held it for a moment, acknowledging the trust his friend offered and promising to hold space for it. He waited long minutes before Malachi spoke again.
“I suppose, if I meet her, it’ll be for the good of the pack.”
“For your good too.”
A metallic hint of resistance drifted into Malachi’s scent but then passed, and again his signature musk was effused with that throbbing tang.
“Can I ask you something?” Ezra said.
Malachi nodded.
“Is it ever too much?”
A low rumble, perhaps disapproval, filled his chest. “I swore to live up to it, Ezra. ‘Too much’ can’t be a factor. Isn’t a factor.”
“That’s a deflection, and you know it.”
This growl held a keener edge, but Ezra wanted the answer. They didn’t speak for a while, which was fine. Malachi could take an hour if he needed to.
