It meant more than she knew. So much more. But as with many other things, there would be time to explain. For now, he was just glad she’d said yes, glad in a way that was dangerously alive.
He left and got to the car. Closed the door, turned it on, and sat there for a moment with his hands on the wheel.
The next part of the plan was simple: find his Beta, find his best friend, and unload. He already had his phone in hand, thumb hovering over the group chat, the one that had no name because none of them had ever bothered, but he stopped.
Closed his eyes. Reclined his head back.
The shape of her was still imprinted in his hands; her taste still clung to his lips. The absence of her was a specific, unreasonable discomfort, flowing in his blood, making no logical argument for itself other than its inherent rightness. The bond was rarely reasonable. The wolf didn’t understand why they were in that car, aroused and alone. Rex did. It had been the right choice, maybe the only one.
So. Friends. Unload. Clearer head.
He stared at the group chat. His house was on the opposite side of town from Lachlan’s. The bar meant noise and witnesses. Owen’s was downtown, in between. Owen’s, then—and Callista, Owen's very human wife, might have something useful to say about this particular situation. She usually did.
Emergency meeting. Owen’s place. One hour.
He dropped his phone on the passenger seat and pulled out of the driveway. A quiet, welcome chuckle escaped somewhere around the second traffic light. They were going to complain about the notice. They would show up anyway.
He went home, took a quick shower, hoping it would do something about her scent while knowing, with grim certainty, that it wouldn’t, then drove to Owen’s. Lachlan’s truck was already parked out front when he arrived. Of course it was.
He let himself in through the garage the way he always did, followed the voices down the hall, and walked into the living room to find Lach sprawled across the couch, and Owen perchedon the arm of the chair where Callista was sitting, her legs tucked under her.
All three of them looked up.
“He lives,” Lachlan declared.
“Forty-five minutes,” Owen added, his voice all but filing a formal complaint.
“I said one hour.”
“Aye, and I was here in thirty because I thought something was actually wrong with ye, pup.”
Callista pointed at him, finger-gunning directly at his face. “Oh.Oh,you have the face.”
Rex blinked. “I have a face, yes. Most people do.”
“Theface." She turned to Owen. “He has your face.”
“He does not have my—”
“The emotionally mature one. The one you get right after you do the right thing, and your soul goeswhy did we do that?” She turned back to Rex, nodding gravely. “It’s a good face. Deeply unhappy, very heroic.”
Rex opened his mouth. Closed it. Looked at Lachlan—who raised both hands.
He dropped onto the couch next to Lachlan on a sigh.
So okay. He had to spill.
Laced his hands together.
I found my mate.
No. Too definitive for what he actually knew.
I think I found my mate.
Better. He could work with—
“You smell horny,” Owen said after he caught a whiff in the air.
