Theeasiestworkdayswere the hunting days. No interaction with humans, only stalking his prey and killing them cleanly, instantly—mostly deer, but his customers in town also bought wild turkey, quail, pheasant, and rabbit. Once or twice a year he ranged to the edge of his land and took down a bear, which made him extra popular for a few weeks as townsfolk bought up the meat just for the novelty of it, then asked him for best cooking practices. The insulated garage behind his cabin held rows of chest freezers, well stocked. Word of mouth sold his meat; he’d never disappointed a buyer yet. He was known for adhering strictly to food safety guidelines and for cleaning his game with expert care.
Monday after April’s first cookout, Malachi hunted early, while she was sleeping. Unlike human hunters, he didn’t wait in a blind for the game to come to him. He sought scent trails and followed them like the wolf he was, and thanks to perfect night vision he could get started before dawn. When he neared his prey, no animal in nature could evade his speed and strength. He was apex, top class.
He had expected the walkie-talkie hooked to his belt to be an annoyance, but the thing was almost forgettable after a while. By nine in the morning, he was back from the hunt with several deer slung across his shoulders and several pheasants in his hands. A few hours later, the meat was dressed and stowed in one of the freezers. His mate was awake by then, showering in the master bathroom. Her scent was relaxed, and he smiled at her lack of fear.
He kept the walkie-talkie turned on as he returned it to its charger in a corner of the kitchen counter. Then he showered on the other side of the cabin, removed any signs or scents of his work before she had to see him. Would April mind what he did? She wasn’t vegetarian, but she was certainly compassionate. She might wince at the idea of her wolf hunting game with his bare hands.
Except she didn’t consider Malachi her wolf.
He growled as he got dressed. Across the cabin, the other shower still ran. The woman liked her long showers. Maybe this was what Kelsey and Ember referred to asself-care. Well, whatever April needed to feel whole and cared for, she was welcome to it in his house.
Malachi’s already legendary self-control had strengthened in the last week; he no longer had to flee the temptation of his own thoughts whenever his mate got into the shower. Still, her scent was heightened, and all that citrusy sweetness dragged another growl from his chest. He stepped out onto the front porch. This would be enough now, no need to prowl the woods.
Out here a dozen scents of the outdoors helped to divert his thoughts. The outdoors and… He parted his lips as he drew the scent deeper into his senses. His nose wrinkled. A cat. On the Lane. How strange.
He focused all his senses toward the road. The cat was walking along the gravel shoulder toward his place. No need to chase it off; it would catch a whiff of wolf any minute now and go bounding back the way it came.
It didn’t.
Malachi headed for the road. Might as well take a look at this naive animal for himself. As he jumped across the culvert ditch onto the shoulder, a mewl sounded from the ground a few feet away. Then the tiniest kitten he had ever seen padded up to him and climbed onto his bare foot.
He stared down at it. “What are you doing?”
The kitten began to mewl in earnest and snag its claws on the leg of his jeans.
“No,” he said. “I’m a wolf.”
It clung with all four paws to his leg, still mewling. Malachi reached down to unhook its claws, and it didn’t cower. Instead it licked his thumb with its tiny sandpaper tongue.
“No, no. You’re a cat, and I’m a wolf. An alpha wolf. You can’t possibly think you’re safe with me. That’s not how it works.”
Once its claws were free, the kitten tilted over into his hand. It fit there with room to spare. It looked all the way up at him and mewled again. Its body shook despite the humid summer morning, as if it were too small to regulate its temperature well. Malachi brought it to his chest for warmth. A wolf always had body heat to spare.
The kitten immediately tried to climb his shirt. He held it back, turned it over, and determined it was female. The gray eyes held no discharge, looked bright and healthy. Her gray fur held the faintest tinge of blue, and she wasn’t dirty or oily. That was another sign of health—a cat who kept herself clean.
“Healthy,” he said to her, “but not especially self-preserving. You came down the wrong road, little one.”
She gave another mewl directly up at him, making fearless eye contact. Malachi sighed, and she blinked when the gust of breath hit her face. Then she lay down in his palm.
“So my mate is too afraid to want me, but you’ve got no qualms resting in my hand. Clearly fate is being ironic with me.”
The kitten made no sound now. She shut her eyes, and her sides rose and fell in exaggerated breaths, as though she had journeyed a long way to reach him and worn herself out. Like April. Sudden emotion rose in Malachi’s chest, tightened his throat. He brought the kitten to his chest and held her there, cupped in his palm.
“All right,” he said. “You can stay as long as you need to, little one.”
He carried her into the cabin just as April emerged from the hallway. Her hair was wrapped in a towel, and she wore flattering high-waist jeans and a teal blouse with puffy, feminine short sleeves. She stopped still when she noticed him, and then concern spiked her scent.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he said.
“You’re holding your chest.” She rushed toward him just as the kitten poked her head up from the cup of his hand and gave a tiny mewl. April gasped. “A cat!”
He lowered his hand to offer her a view. “She was alone, out at the road.”
“And she let you touch her?”
“Sort of insisted.” A smile pulled at his mouth. “She climbed onto my foot.”
