“Can’t you? And I smell something. Not sure what. The scent seems kind of wild.”
Slade faked calmness he didn’t feel for Noah’s sake. “We’re near acres of forestland.”
The stiff set of Noah’s shoulders relaxed a fraction. “Yeah. You’re right. I’m just spooked.”
“Understandable. We’re going to keep looking. We’ll find you a safe place.” Slade squeezed Noah’s hand beneath the table.
After several moments of silence, Noah ventured, “What about you? You need a safe place too.”
Compared to Noah, anyplace Slade went counted as “safe.” Except for around sorcerers. “I earned my curse. Someone’s trying to make you pay for who you are. There’s a big difference.” Slade motioned the server over. “Check, please.”
The server shuffled over. “Going so soon?” Her frown appeared genuine.
“Yeah, we’re done.”
With painstaking slowness, the woman placed the bill on the table and strolled to the cash register at a snail’s pace. Slade might not have hackles in the sense Noah did; they rose anyway. “Stay close to me,” he murmured to Noah. “I’m starting to agree. Something isn’t right.” He paid in cash to protect his name on his credit card.
He felt a bit better after stepping out of the diner.
South Dakota. Beautiful and not overrun with people. Hell. In the time he’d known Noah, Slade started thinking like a werewolf: avoid people, keep your head down.
A nip in the air and snow on the distant mountains said fall. Should Slade buy Noah some leathers to see him through winter?
Damn. There he went again, seeing permanence in their relationship. How ironic. Everyone who’d ever wanted to stay, Slade discouraged. Now, the someone he wanted to keep came with a time limit.
They headed down the sidewalk to the truck. What would the holidays be like with Noah? Slade hadn’t celebrated Christmas in years, except to send presents to family members, and he’d certainly not put up a tree or stocking.
He visualized the small cabin, a fire in the fireplace, a tree in the corner, him and Noah snuggled under a blanket on the couch. All the old Christmas movies Slade loved as a kid, seen for the first time through Noah’s eyes.
Fantasies. Slade closed the door on long-term when he’d pissed off a sorcerer, when he hadn’t even known sorcerers existed at the time.
“We’re not in a hurry, are we?” Noah asked.
“No.”
“This is a nice little town. Can we look around a bit?”
“Sure.” Slade walked beside Noah, close enough for their jacket sleeves to touch, not close enough to make homophobes jump out of the woodwork preaching hellfire and brimstone.
Hopefully.
Leftover Halloween decorations warred with early Christmas lights.C’mon, people, get your holidays straight.
Not many stores were open at this hour, a few minutes before eight a.m. Noah pressed his nose to the glass, looking through the window of an antique store, holiday items positioned near the front. “One day, if I have a home, I want to fill each room with antiques. There’s something about them, don’t you think? History. Charm.”
IfI have a home, notwhen.
One arm wrapped around Noah’s shoulders, Slade pressed fingers to the bare skin above Noah’s collar, the most skin-to-skin contact he dared in the open.
Noah leaned into the touch, tension easing. “Thanks. Sorry. Sometimes I think dark thoughts.”
After all Noah had been through, Slade couldn’t blame him. “C’mon, let’s go. We have a pack to find.”
They took their time on their way back, neither saying anything. They rounded the corner to the diner parking lot.
A deputy sheriff stood by the Durango.
Chapter Twenty-Six
