Cody gasped, and Reid's tongue swept in, tasting, and exploring. Reid tasted like mint toothpaste and coffee, and Cody melted into him, fisting his hands against Reid’s chest.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Reid rested his forehead against Cody's.
"Mine," he rumbled, the word vibrating through both of them.
"Yeah," Cody managed to reply. "I think I am."
Reid pulled back enough to meet his eyes. The amber-gold was bleeding through again, as if his bear was close to the surface. "I need to hear you say it. That you understand. That you're choosing this."
"I understand that you're a bear shifter," Cody said. "I understand that there's a mate bond between us that can be sealed through a bite. I understand that once sealed, the bond is permanent and irreversible for both of us. I understand that this is serious and permanent and kind of terrifying. But Reid, I also understand that I feel safer and more myself with you than I have felt in years. So yes. I'm choosing this. I'm choosingyou."
Joy flashed across Reid’s face. Then he was kissing Cody again, softer this time, almost reverent.
"So," Cody said, when they finally broke apart. "What happens now?"
"Now," Reid said carefully, "we still have a stalker to catch. The mate bond doesn't change the fact that you're in danger."
"I meant with us."
Reid's expression softened. "I don't know. I've never had a mate before. But… I'd like to figure it out with you if that's okay."
"More than okay." Cody smiled. "Although I have about a thousand questions."
Reid chuckled. "Sure, ask away."
Cody tucked himself against Reid's side and they talked until past midnight. Cody learned about shifter culture, pack dynamics, the various species. He learned that Reid's father had died of a broken heart after losing his mate, which explained Reid's fear of the bond. He learned that mate bonds were sacred and rare and that Reid's brother Garrett was also a bear shifter. He heard that shifters had incredible hearing, far greater than your average human.
"Can all shifters hear heartbeats?" Cody asked at one point.
Reid nodded. "Enhanced senses across the board. Hearing, smell, sight.” Reid's hand was playing idly with Cody's hair, like he couldn't help but touch him. "It’s why your scent drives me insane."
"My scent?"
"Honey and cut grass and fresh cotton. The first time I caught it, I nearly lost control completely."
Heat curled in Cody's belly. "Is that a good thing?"
"It's a mate thing. You smell perfect to me. Like home."
Cody tilted his head back, met Reid's eyes. "What do I smell like right now?"
Reid's nostrils flared. His pupils dilated. "Like you want me," he said roughly. "Like arousal and warm skin and…" His arms tightened. "You smell like you’re mine."
"I do want you," Cody admitted. "But I also don't want to rush this. We haven’t known each other for very long and even though I accept all this, I still think we need to get to know one another better."
Reid's arms tightened around him. "There’s no rush. I’d wait an eternity for you."
There was a promise in that statement that made a pleasant sensation settle in Cody’s chest—a vow that when he was ready, Reid would be there waiting. It gave Cody even more confidence that he had made the right decision to accept Reid and accept the bond they shared, even though the implications were immense.
They sat quietly for a moment, Reid's fingers still combing slowly through his hair. Cody closed his eyes, savoring the contact. He'd never been touched this way—unhurried, unguarded, with no expectation of anything in return. It was a new sensation, and it loosened something in his chest that had been locked down tight for as long as he could remember.
"Can I tell you something?" Cody asked quietly.
"Anything."
He swallowed, suddenly nervous. He had never spoken about this with anyone other than Diane, and even then, only in the vaguest of terms. The few interviewers who had tried to mine him for sympathy-bait on the subject had walked away empty-handed.
"I grew up in the system," he said. "Foster homes and group homes. I was taken from my mom when I was four—she had addiction problems she couldn't shake. My dad was already long gone by then. No grandparents who wanted to step in. No aunts or uncles who put their hands up." He exhaled slowly. "So I became a case file."
