“You came back.” It’s barely a whisper, but it’s enough to make him take half a step back, likeIstartledhim. He’s coiled so tightly, watching me intently and gaze jumping to clock every small movement I make. My adrenaline starts to crash now that I know some stranger isn’t about to murder me, and I bend over to brace my hands on my thighs, heart racing and breath whooshing out of my lungs in relief.
“You’re paying for that, you know.” I gesture vaguely in the direction of the broken glass.
After a few more seconds to get myself under control and ensure I’m not going to have a heart attack, I glance up to find him staring at me warily, his head cocked in confusion, and mentally sigh.
“As pissed as I am about the window, because I sure as hell can’t afford to replace it right now, I’m glad you finally decided that help sounds better than hypothermia.”
I’ve spent the past week worrying about someone stumbling across him and either selling him out, or putting him down. But by some miracle, he’s found a way to survive. I’m sure the sphinx form is to thank for not freezing to death, but now that he’s managed to shift back, it makes sense why it was the push he needed to find better shelter.
Feral or not, men are men. If I had a dick that size, I’d be worried about it freezing off, too.
Rather than answer me, he slowly, cautiously, walks past me, careful to keep his distance as he retreats deeper into the house, never taking his eyes off mine as he silently implores me to follow him. And when I do?
I damn near burst into tears.
On the kitchen table and floor arepilesof food. Some of the boxes are smashed, and the thought of eating canned beets makes me throw up in my mouth a little, but the frozen goods are still cold. And he’s looking at me like he’s both proud of the haul he brought home, and nervously watching my reaction like he actually cares what I think.
Nobody but my brother has ever cared whether or not I’m happy. Only about what I can do for them.
“You,” I sniff, “stole me groceries?“
He doesn’t answer, but upon seeing my misty eyes, seems to panic and grabs a box of partially thawed waffles, thrusting them at me.
I take them with a watery laugh, clutching them to my chest as I wipe at my face and try to pull myself together. “Thank you.”
The tenuous hope from before comes trickling back in. What if I actuallycouldfix him? I would be the first person in history to help a feral shifter regain his humanity, something even my brother isn’t able to do. It’d be a game changer for shifter society if I can pull this off. I could keep him safe while helping him heal.
And… it’d be nice having somebody to come home to at the end of the day instead of an empty house. To somebody that needs me.Wantsme.
It’s a quiet neighborhood. So long as I keep my head down and him inside, I can totally pull this off. Because he really isn’t the rabid kind of feral, he’s more of the trauma-mute variety. An abused animal that lashes out when startled. And Fates,after seeing those scars? He has about five hundred damn good reasons not to trust people. It’s a miracle he survived whatever torture he endured and is as stable as he is. Even being lost to his instincts, he’s trying to feed me. And when I didn’t respond to the dead bird offering, he went out in search of something else. But why-
The mate mark on his wrist is a glaring beacon, taunting me as the ringing in my ears hits a fever pitch.
No. No no no no no no. I can’t survive another rejection. And this guy? He’s the epitome of a flight risk.Hell, I don’t even know hisname.
The ringing in my ears morphs into that of my phone, jolting me out of my internal freak out. I fumble it twice, nearly dropping it before I realize it isn’t a call, but my alarm reminding me that my next appointment is in twenty minutes.
“I don’t have time to deal with this right now.”
Once the words pass my lips, I feel a modicum of control again, and I latch onto it like there’s no tomorrow. Avoidance and denial aren’t my usual go-tos, but right now? I’ll take whatever gets me through the day.
“I need to get back to work, so you? Stay.Stay,” I emphasize, motioning with my hands.
He narrows his eyes, but slowly drops down to sit on the floor. I spring into triage mode, flinging all the perishables into the fridge and freezer, ripping open a box of protein bars and a bag of chips and thrusting them at my new houseguest. Boyfriend?
Fates, I’m not caffeinated enough for this.
“Let’s make one thing clear; Jules isnotdinner. You see my danger noodle skulking around the house, you leave him be or you’ll be out on your ass, mate mark be damned. Capiche?”
Obviously he doesn’t respond, and I add that to my already dauntingly long to-do list.
As soon as I hand him the pile of food, his penis becomes a glaringly obvious problem between us and I dart to my room to quickly lock Jules in his closest nest for now and snatch the blankets off the bed, throwing one over my shifter’s lap and using the other to temporarily patch the broken window until I can figure out a better solution after work.
“I’m going to be late for my next appointment, and I can’t afford to miss it if I want to keep the electricity from being shut off next and have a shot of surviving this neverending winter from Hell, so stay. Here.” I add in some charades, but who knows if he’s picking up on the neurotic vibes I’m throwing down.
“I’ll be back in a couple of hours, so make yourself at home. When I get back, we can figure out what we’re going to do about,” my gaze drops to my crescent moon compass tattoo on his wrist, both thrilled, and utterly terrified, “this. Don’t answer the door for anyone but me, okay?”
I switch on the TV to hopefully keep him occupied on my way out, sending up a silent prayer that it’ll distract him from destroying the house or wandering off. But I’m well aware that it’s a last ditch band-aid on a problem that’s hemorrhaging before my eyes.
