CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Coaxing Pip out of the ventilation shaft took the better part of an hour.
Baylin had shifted back to human form almost immediately after she began searching for her companion. The transformation was faster in reverse—his body seemed to know that the beast had served its purpose and was willing to retreat—but Pip didn’t care about the nuances of Vultor physiology. All the little glider knew was that something large and terrifying had appeared in its safe space, and now it wanted nothing to do with any of them.
“Come on, Pip,” she called, reaching into the grate with a handful of dried fruit. “It’s me. You know me. Baylin isn’t going to hurt you, I promise.”
An angry chittering echoed from somewhere in the ductwork.
“He’s my friend now. Like you’re my friend. And friends don’t eat each other, remember? We talked about this when you tried to bite the plants in the greenhouse.”
More chittering. Slightly less angry.
He watched from across the room, keeping his distance. He’d put his pants back on and was doing his best to appear non-threatening. It wasn’t easy. Even in male form, he was large and scarred and probably still smelled like a predator.
“Come on,” she coaxed. “I have your favorite. The purple berries from the top shelf. The ones I’m not supposed to give you because they make you hyper.”
A small silver-gray head poked out of the grate. Luminous eyes fixed on the offered fruit, then flickered to him, then back to the fruit.
“That’s it. Just a little closer.”
The glider inched forward. Its whiskers twitched as it sniffed the berries.
“Good boy. See? Everything’s fine. Nothing to be scared of.”
Pip snatched the fruit and retreated into the duct immediately.
“Progress,” she said cheerfully. “He’ll come out eventually. He always does.”
She stood and brushed off her hands, apparently unconcerned by her companion’s continued retreat. He admired her optimism even as he felt a twinge of guilt. He shouldn’t have transformed. He shouldn’t have let himself lose control, even briefly. Now the little creature that had been her only companion for years was cowering in the walls, traumatized by something he had done.
“Stop that,” she said.
He blinked. “Stop what?”
“Looking guilty.” She crossed the room towards him, bare feet silent on the stone floor. “Pip will be fine. He got over the timeI accidentally dropped a pot on his tail. He got over the time Ari activated the emergency lights and scared him so badly he didn’t come out for three days. He’ll get over this.”
“I shouldn’t have?—”
“You should have.” She stopped in front of him, tilting her head back to meet his eyes. “I asked you to show me. You did. I don’t regret it, and neither should you.”
“My beast?—”
“Is part of you. And I want to know all of you, remember?” She reached up and touched the scar on his face, her fingers gentle. “The male parts and the beast parts. The controlled parts and the wild parts. Everything.”
Something that had been wound tight for years suddenly loosened its grip.
He’d spent so long believing he had to hide what he was. Believing that he had to suppress it and keep it leashed so that others wouldn’t be afraid. Even his pack had valued his strength but feared his intensity. His former alpha had used him as an enforcer precisely because his beast was more savage than most. And after Rykan left, after everything fell apart...
He’d been alone. For a long time. Because he’d convinced himself that alone was safer. That letting anyone close was a risk he couldn’t afford.
Now this strange, wonderful, impossible female was standing in front of him, asking to know him completely, and he didn’t know what to do with that.
“It’s late,” he said finally. His voice came out rough. “You should sleep.”
“Stay with me.”
“Liora—”
