Page 72 of Werewolves and Witches AU

Then my wolf detects the unmistakable sound of footsteps.

Shit!

I gesticulate wildly for Milo to get his arse out of there, but the window is an awning-style one that’s hinged at the top, and when he jumps up he hits his head on the glass. Rubbing his forehead, he turns to look over his shoulder…

Now he hears it. The occupant is coming.

Readying to rush around the front and ring the doorbell, I freeze in place when Milo dives out of the window headfirst like he’s landing in a swimming pool and not sharp shrubbery. Fixed in place with an uneasy mix of sick dread and anticipation, I replay the awkward angle of his landing in my mind. My wolf didn’t hear any bones break, yet I’m convinced that I just watched him snap his neck.

The occupant, a human male of average height and build with mousy brown hair, appears in the exact spot Milo just leaped from. He frowns at the window, then leans forward to peer out of it.

From my current position, tucked away behind overgrown hedges and a fence, I’m not visible, but Magpie… who’s lying face down in the dirt at the foot of the window…

The man shuts it with a shake of his head and walks back inside the house.

My heart bursts into a gallop, and Milo rolls over and just… lies on the ground. I’m about to call out, when he effortfully pushes himself up.

Scanning all the windows—twice—guarantees the coast is clear, and I beckon him over.

At the fence, I brace my foot on the parallel bar halfway up to gain enough elevation to reach over the top and wrap my hand around his wrist. Using my werewolf strength, when Magpie jumps, I capitalise on the momentum and pull him back to the relative safety and seclusion of the narrow path behind the Target.

He practically lands on top of me, and I hook both arms around his shoulders to stabilise him. My wolf and I both check Milo closely, cataloguing every injury no matter how minor.

There’s a shine in Magpie’s eyes that I’ve seen countless times in other soldiers during a mission—that exhilarating combination of adrenaline and dopamine. There’s also part of a leaf stuck in his tunnel piercing.

I remove it, and can’t help trying to tame the mess of knots and sprinkling of soil he also picked up while tumbling through the hedge. There’s a small scratch just under Milo’s eye, and my gaze sticks on it.

He’s breathing hard, we both are, and we’re so close that we share each other’s air.

I smooth the pad of my thumb along Milo’s high cheekbone. “Yer hurt.”

He nods but doesn’t take his head from the cradle of my palm. Crystal-grey eyes flick between both of mine, and his pink tongue slips out to wet his bottom lip.

The vibrating alert of an incoming call cuts through the minute space between us with the surgical precision of a scalpel, and Milo steps back to dust himself off.

My gaze drops to the screen on my phone. Guardian. Again. But I can’t talk to him here, it’s not… private.

For the second time, I cancel his call.

Without making eye contact with Milo, I ask, “Was yer mission a success, Magpie?”

“Erm, yeah.” His voice is wobbly. “Yeah. Got it. We should leave.”

26

Officially A Felon

Milo

Rowan is… constrained.

His stride beside me matches my gait exactly, but there’s this compressed quality radiating from him. His energy feels too large, as if he’s forcing himself to be small when he needs to be big. Is this a werewolf thing? Does he need to shift forms and go run in the woods and chase rabbits? Or whatever werewolves do to decompress.

I risk peeking over at him, and… yup. His neck is thicker—that vein up the side prominent—and his eyes still have that golden-almond quality of his wolf’s, but at least his fangs and that wider, more canine structure of the bridge of his nose have retracted.

Not that it wasn’t hot as fuck when I could see his wolf so clearly, because it was, but it’s the kind of thing that would definitely get us noticed. And right now, I’m pretty certain that’s the last thing Rowan wants… or needs.

He’s a man on a mission. Well, actually, yes, he is. But I don’t mean a mission mission, I mean it more like, if he were a phone, he’d be in do-not-disturb mode. And that’s really hard for me, because right now, I’m wired like I’m in public-broadcast mode.