“He picked flowers,” I said out loud.
Acorn’s ears perked up.
“And forgot to add water. But he picked them. He went to the garden and selected each one.”
The squirrel’s tail went still. He watched me.
“Then he tracked me through the forest because he was worried. He shifted and put himself between me and a bear without hesitation.” I set down the container I held. “He rode on a witch’s mop. A mop, Acorn. Do you understand how significant that is?”
My gaze drifted to the small wooden wolf on the shelf. I’d moved it from the drawer weeks ago without thinking much about it. A child had made this with careful, imperfect hands. I wondered if he’d been frightened when his father died and left him alpha at nineteen, or if he’d just gotten very good at not showing it.
She names the moments one by one and counts them like the morning sun,Acorn said in my mind.What started as a contract, cold and signed, she chose herself, step by step, in kind.
I met his gaze. “I don’t want this as temporary anymore.”
He patted my hand once. The gesture was warm, genuine, and absent of his usual smugness.
He hopped off the table and disappeared into the suite.
I watched him go before returning to my notes.
As the sun set, I stepped onto the balcony for air. The forest stretched out below, familiar now in a way it hadn’t been when I arrived. Moonlight caught in the canopy, turning everything silver.
Footsteps approached from inside the suite.
Feral appeared in the doorway, his expression concerned. “Acorn scratched at the door to my office and wouldn’t leave me alone. He led me up here like something was wrong.”
We both glanced into the suite.
Acorn sat on the inside door handle. With a flex of his back legs, he launched off, making the door move.
It clicked shut. The latch dropped.
I crossed the balcony and tried the handle. Locked.
Feral tried it as well. Also locked.
He spoke through the wood. “Acorn. Open the door.”
A single cheerful chirp answered him. Then silence as my companion scampered into the office.
I met Feral’s gaze.
“We’ve been outmaneuvered by a squirrel,” I said.
Feral stared at the door. “Apparently.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
FERAL
Istared at the door.
I was the alpha of an entire region of wolf packs. I’d stood in rooms with rivals who wanted me dead and walked out intact. I’d carried the weight of hundreds of wolves on decisions made alone.
And I’d just been outmaneuvered by an eight-ounce squirrel with matchmaking tendencies.
My wolf rumbled with satisfaction.
