Alec had had little interaction with werewolves prior to meeting Leif, but what little he did know was being upended with every passing hour by his new mate. Leif handled a partial Change with ease, so swift that it was almost impossible to track.
They reached the cleared yard in front of the cabin, the cast-iron pan and the burnt potatoes still where Leif had tossed them aside in the dead grass not far from the stoop. Leif stopped next to it and gently set Alec on his feet, though he held onto Leif’s arm when his legs threatened to give out under him.
“Alright?” Leif asked, bending down to grab the pan from the grass, shaking it to dislodge the few remaining charred bits of what would’ve been their breakfast.
“I’m a bit shaky,” Alec shared, deciding that trying to hide how he was feeling was stupid—Leif had found him at his worst, and took care of him, an utter stranger, and never made him feel bad about it. “I think some food and a nap before sexy times might be a good idea.”
He had used his magic to kill Stu. While he did not regret it, he was feeling the residual effects of being held in nullifier cuffs for weeks on end, followed by a desperate escape and a subsequent trek through the mountains in autumn without a proper meal or rest. While he was feeling loads better than he had the night before, he was not yet fully recovered, and expending energy using magic had strained what little reserves he had.
Leif set the pan on the stoop and grimaced at himself, as if noticing the blood for the first time. It was cold and drying, sticky, and he was covered in mud and forest debris as well, especially his lower legs and feet. His hands werecovered in blood, and blood soaked his skin from his chin all the way down his chest.
Even though he saw Leif heal in real time, Alec still checked for signs of injury—Leif was in perfect health, no signs of being shot over a dozen times. Not a scratch.
Except that silver scar on his chest. He understood now why it was there—the tale was gruesome and tragic, and Alec resolved to destroy that curse if it was the last thing he ever did—not that he was aiming to be self-sacrificing, but he hated to fail.
And Leif didn’t deserve to be alone the rest of his life, either.
Though…not entirely alone. The bond was new, and still forming, but if Alec focused he could feel it, a warmth near his heart that radiated outward through his whole body, shoring him up. He rubbed a hand over his chest, the not-quite-achy feeling of the bond noticeable, and Leif caught the motion.
His expression was one of joy and worry—as if hoping that Alec was happy about the bond and afraid he would be upset by it.
“I do not regret meeting you,” Alec declared abruptly. It was true. “Meeting you was Fate and I’m no foolish human to argue against my destiny. I want you and this bond and I’ll never regret it.”
He was damn near growling out that impromptu speech by the end, hands on his hips, glaring at Leif, who stared back at him with a flabbergasted expression, lips twitching into a grin.
Leif left the pan on the stoop and took a few strides back to stand in front of Alec, then leaned down to place a firm kiss to Alec’s forehead. “Yes, my mate.”
Leif smelled of rain and stone and blood. Alec hummed,relaxing, enjoying the sensation of being doted upon when Leif swooped him up in one massive arm and then gently deposited him on the stoop. “I need to rinse off the blood and muck. There’s a small fridge underneath the counter; should be some sausage in there. Eggs are in the basket on the countertop under a hand towel, and there’s a spare pan hanging beside the hearth on a hook.”
“I can cook,” Alec promised, nodding. “Don’t be too long, please.”
“I won’t,” Leif assured, and headed around the corner of the cabin toward the sheer cliff that rose up steeply behind the small structure.
Leif
Alec’simpassioned declaration filled him with reassurance and warmth, the bond echoing with the young fae’s determination and resolve. Along with exasperation and a growing fondness. Leif had his issues, and hoped Alec had the patience to wait for him to develop hope for the future. He was so used to resignation and despair and loneliness that he needed to relearn how to exist with a brighter future.
Alec entered the cabin and Leif could hear him moving about. He made himself head to the well and pump the spout to wash off. He could shower inside but he didn’t want the stink of the dead trespassers in his den for even a moment.
The pump was the kind from centuries past, made of solid metal and a long arm that drew water up from thewell. The cabin was fully plumbed, something he managed to get done thirty years or so earlier, but he kept the hand pump for situations just like this—washing down after a hunt.
The well water was ice-cold and unpleasant, but necessary, Leif filling bucket after bucket and sluicing himself down head to toe. The water ran clear after a few buckets, and he twisted about the best he could to make sure he wasn’t missing a spot.
He let the pump arm drop and brushed his hair back from his face with one hand. The sun was higher in the sky, and he was glad to see the sky was clearing out from the previous long stretch of gloomy, overcast days. Autumn was in the last gasp before winter arrived, and clear, sunny days were going to be rare until after the winter solstice in this stretch of the mountains.
He smelled sausage cooking before he rounded the corner to the front of the cabin, the cast-iron pan gone from the stoop as he stepped up and into the cabin, shutting the door behind him to keep the heat in.
“Smells great,” he told Alec with a grin, the young fae bent over the hearth, using a long fork and poking at the fresh venison sausage crackling in the pan. Alec had sorted out how to attach the spare pan to the correct arm while he was washing up, and the kettle was steaming, mugs ready and awaiting the hot water.
“I cut up some more potatoes; home fries sound good?” Alec asked over his shoulder.
He made a tempting sight bent over like that in his borrowed clothing, and Leif reminded himself that Alec needed food more than he needed an amorous mate distracting him before he could eat.
“Sounds perfect. Need any help?” he asked, despite itbeing his home and food—his mate was clearly in charge of making breakfast and he was quite content to leave it be if it made Alec happy.
“Pour the tea? Sausage is done, waiting on the home fries to cook through.”
“Yes, sir.”
