“Hey, guys. The usual?”
“Aww, you remember our orders?” Jamie asks, smiling as he takes a seat in Anders’s lap. Anders wraps an arm around his waist to steady the smaller man. Their casual intimacy makes jealousy twist in my gut.
“Of course. I’d be a pretty bad bartender if I didn’t.” I pour Anders his beer and gather the ingredients to make Jamie’s cocktail.
“Hey, how’s Buddy doing?”
I pour the ingredients into my shaker. “He’s great. Super sweet.” I leave out the fact that he and my granddad are engaged in a cold-war standoff.
“Isn’t he?” Jamie beams. “And a great listener, right?”
“He really is. I swear, it’s like he understands me.” I shake the drink until the shaker is ice cold, then pour it neatly into a glass. “Did your friend like the pics I took of—”
I almost choke on my tongue as Lyall comes up behind Jamie and Anders, putting a hand on each of their shoulders. Oh shit.
Those beautiful green eyes that haunted me all weekend find mine. “Hello, Soren.” Lyall’s voice is soft and uncertain.
“I, uh—” In my shock, the glass slips from my hand and bounces on the rubber mats. It doesn’t break, but the drink spatters all over my shoes. “I’m so sorry, Jamie! I’ll make you another!” I reach for my Cointreau and curse when I realize the bottle only has a tiny amount left. “Fuck! Be right back!”
Wow, me. So chill, very professional. Could I have been more obviously freaked out? Face burning, I dart downstairs and find the liquor cabinet. My shaky hands dropthe keys before I can stick them in the lock. I punch the cabinet, snarling as an ache throbs in the side of my fist.
Sucking in a harsh breath, I close my eyes and lean my forehead against the cool metal.
How can this man reduce me to a wreck with nothing but my name on his lips?
I’ve got to get it together.
Chapter 7
Lyall
Spending three whole dayspretending to be a dog was harder than I thought it would be, but it gave me the chance to be close to Soren at last.
It’s not without its challenges, of course. The pitiful burned pellets Soren calls “kibble” taste foul, for one thing. How do domesticated dogs tolerate eating it every day? Nothing will ever compare to meat fresh from the bone.
For another, I can’t speak a word to Soren. All I can do is listen as he pours his heart out to me. It aches deep inside that he can bare his soul to me in this form but shuts me out in my human form.
But now I understand why.
My mate has been hurt so many times before. It’s left him terrified to trust because none of the other men he was with appreciated his tender heart and fierce loyalty. I’ve got to prove to him that I’m not going anywhere and that I’d never hurt him.
I just need to know how. The Soren I knew wore his heart on his sleeve. He wasn’t afraid to make his feelings known. This Soren is far more wary. Mayhap Anders and Jamie can help me come up with ideas.
And then there’s the biggest obstacle to my plan.
Fergus, Soren’s so-called grandfather.
He’s a witch. The scent of his magic was a dead giveaway. With one look, he knew exactly what I was. I’ve done my best to keep my distance. Soren seems to have placated him so far since he hasn’t made a move against me.
That will change the moment we’re alone. I know it.
After Soren leaves for work, I perk up my ears and listen for any movement in the bedroom. Just as I anticipated, the mattress creaks. Footsteps thud on the floorboards. The door opens.
My fur peels back from my body, crawling back up my shoulders into the shape of a fur cloak. I’m never naked after a shift as the fur grows over whatever I am wearing, but I can’t help feeling vulnerable as a newborn babe in nothing but my human skin and delicate clothes when Fergus enters the living room. The wrinkles on his brow deepen as he glares at me. “Wolf,” he says with all the pleasure of a man who’s just stepped in horse shit.
“Witch.” The word comes out as a growl. My jaw aches from how hard I’m clenching it. What has this man done to Soren?
“What do you want with my grandson, wolf?” Fergus’s eyes are as cold as glaciers as he looks me over from head to toe as if I’m a rotten scrap of meat.
