Heartwarming. Inconvenient. “I appreciate that,” Simon says politely. One of those magic phrases he’s used countless times over the centuries. Then his voice hardens into his best impression of Dima. “But I have this under control. You should leave.”
Simon has never had Dima’s talent for enthrallment, but he can be intimidating when he needs to be. A cold predator plucking the fight-or-flight strings of human hearts.
Tobias flinches, then holsters his gun. “Cody was right. This is a hell of a job.” He hesitates, scowling through his internal conflict, then leaves.
As his footsteps fade, Cody’s fur smoothes into place. All according to plan—Simon is once again alone with a werewolf, in a room more claustrophobic by the moment. A sensation Simon hadn’t known he could still feel, given how comfortable his coffin has become.
But even if Simon isn’t in danger right now, Cody takes up so much space.
“Great plan,” Simon mutters to himself, then raises a cheerful voice. “All right, good boy, let me past so I can—”
Cody spins, broad forehead meeting Simon’s torso. One firm nudge sends Simon stumbling backwards.
Terrible plan. Alarm pulses belatedly through Simon’s mind, as his legs hit the edge of the bed. The next nudge knocks him onto his ass. He shouldn’t have confidently sent Tobias away. What if Codyisout of control, and fuck all Simon’s musings about mortal lifespans and knowing oneself?
Is this what Francisco saw before he—
There are no gnashing teeth, no rending claws. The massive beast sits down slowly. Even more slowly, his head rests on Simon’s thighs.
Simon stares, stunned. As the warm weight settles on his knees, the closeness doesn’t feel claustrophobic anymore.
“I wasn’t going anywhere,” Simon says, with a flicker of excitement he would have called breathlessness long ago. “I was going to close the door.”
Cody’s head gets heavier. Each hot breath tickles Simon’s nerves.
“Yes, now I’m really not going anywhere. Good job.”
Simon gently touches Cody’s ears again. Silky fur slides between his fingers. Would Cody permit this in his human shape? Would Simon want to reach out? A moment like this would break their impasse. Neither too close nor too far, never speaking, never acting. Because you can’t destroy a portrait you’ve never painted.
Perhaps this is too much already. Cody’s still the same person, just wolf-shaped and moon-drunk. A little less polite in his overprotectiveness.
Simon doesn’t mind that as much as he should. He likes the thought of someone returning to him. Someonestaying with him. The only thing that’s missing is conversation. If they were mates, they could speak like this. The thought isn’t as horrifying as Simon expects.
Then Cody flinches beneath Simon’s palm—and begins to change.
Chapter 20
Cody
All the worries of Cody’s other aspect feel distant now, kept at bay by soothing fingers behind his ear. Cody remembers those worries. They’re just irrelevant. Stupid. Don’t shift. Don’t wander. Don’t hurt—but why would he hurt—
Simon.
The moon’s claws loosen.
Cody scrabbles away from those gentle fingers. Carpet snags as his bones convulse. Flesh and sinew snaps from one familiar shape to another, and veins map the contours of his other body. His sense of smell dulls as his thoughts clear.
The transformation is a gasp for breath. He hunches over, naked, hands and knees digging into the carpet, as his fears flood back.
Simon shouldn’t be here. Cody should be locked away. Not in this room, with Simon watching cool-eyed from the bed.
“That was very weird to watch up close,” Simon says, light amusement balancing over an emotion Cody can’t read.
Cody staggers to his feet. One step closer, his first instinct to assess and protect, before jerking himself back. “Fuck, Simon, I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?”
Simon tilts his head. He appears unharmed. “You don’t remember?”
Cody cringes. There’s no smell of blood. Not fresh, anyway, just traces of that bottled stuff lingering in Simon’s cold scent. Cody’s clear-headed enough to tell the difference.
