“Sorry, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” Quain wrapped his arms around Peter from behind, squeezing himtight.
“What are you sorry about?” Peter brushed away the tears on his cheeks, not turning around. He didn’t want to show vulnerability yet. They were too new to each other to reveal his weaknesses. He didn’t think Quain would reject him, but the slight chance kept him faced away until he collected his composure from the crumpled remains of hispast.
“I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories, Mate. You should’ve just told me to mind my own business. Don’t worry about being strong. I want you to just focus on being happy.” He hugged Peter as if he could push away his bad thoughts with his willpoweralone.
“I’m glad your visions don’t stick around. It would be a bad mating if we were both mental wrecks.” Peter patted Quain’s hands where they met around his waist. Already Some of his angst was already fading. Quain’s gentle presence and hug did more to calm him than any number of useless words other people had offered him in thepast.
“You’re not a wreck. You just need more time. You have more healing to do. Maybe you can come see the counselor Anthonyrecommended.”
“Maybe.” Peter lifted Quain’s right hand and kissed his palm. “There isn’t a lot of pretty in my life. If you are waiting for the cute, happy childhood story, you won’t be getting it fromme.”
Quain placed a smacking kiss on the back of Peter’s neck. A smile curved Peter’s lips as he realized Quain must have stood on his tiptoes for his lips to reach that high. Quain, while not tiny, barely reached Peter’s chin. He turned around. “You wanted us to get to know each other, and that includes the bad things. I don’t mind sharing my past with you, but don’t be surprised when it’s not all rainbows and daisies, allright?”
“Yeah, I get that.” Quainnodded.
Peter headed to the only door on the floor and pulled out his key. When the building had been designed, they had originally planned on having the elevator open into the top floor condo, but the lack of security had made the buyer uneasy. Instead, there was only one unit on the entire floor with a fancy door with a strong lock barringentrance.
Quain spun around to look. “Does your condo take over the entirefloor?”
“Yes.” Peter ducked his head to unlock the door. Although he loved his place, it did stink of ostentation to people who weren’t expecting him to own the whole top of abuilding.
“Wow. That’s awesome. At least we don’t have to worry about nosyneighbors.”
Peter laughed, not expecting that response. “That’s true. I never have anyone trying to borrow a cup of sugar. Remind me to add you to the securitysystem.”
Quain wrinkled his nose. “Don’t I just need akey?”
“No. The door handle reads my fingerprints. If someone other than me tries to open the locked door, they will get a jolt of electricity. It doesn’t stop anyone from opening the door, but it does stop anyone unauthorized from unlockingit.”
Quain cleared his throat. “Yeah, um. I should be added then, I guess. I don’t want to bezapped.”
Peter chuckled. “I can understandthat.”
“Has that everhappened?”
“Once,” Peter admitted. “My father thought he would evict me and get money by selling myapartment.”
“Wow, he sounds like he was a real piece ofwork.”
“Yeah.” Peter couldn’t help his wistful tone. “When I was younger, he was all right. Gambling and drugs ruinedhim.”
Addictions were dangerous things. Gambling had changed a solid alpha wolf into a lying swindler who would sell his wife’s jewels for a buck or a snort of cocaine. With a shifter’s fast metabolism, it had taken a lot of drugs to satisfyhim.
Quain squeezed Peter’s arm. “I’msorry.”
Peter nodded. “Thanks.”
They entered the apartment and Quain let out a long whistle. “I can see why you’d refuse pack housing. This place isgorgeous.”
Peter grinned, relief swept through him. “I’m glad you likeit.”
“Like it? No, I love it. This isamazing.”
It had been a long time since Peter last let anyone into his refuge. He had forgotten how it might look to someone new. His grandfather had been a collector and left Peter some of his art collection, and his grandmother had given Peter some large comfortable leather furniture for the living room, resulting in a posh but welcoming combination. He reflected bitterly over his father stripping down his grandparents’ house after their deaths and selling every piece of art and silver they hadowned.
“I can’t take credit for it. My grandmother used to be an interior designer. She’s the one who put it all together. I was still in college when they gave it tome.”
“You went to college?” Quain asked, spinning around to look athim.
