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Syrus brushed the scientist’s words out of his head as he settled in his seat.

Riley put his phone away, his expression returning to a blank sort of indifference as he took Syrus in. “Well?”

“If he doesn’t leave the area promptly, he’ll need to be dealt with.”

Syrus didn’t know what real threat this lone human could pose, but he knew he didn’t like the man’s presence here. Syrus didn’t like his obsession, or the knowledge he possessed that he had no right possessing. He especially didn’t like the man’s arrogant presumption that his desire to know more translated into a right to know more.

Entitlement was a dangerous frame of mind when it came to mortal men.

Riley cocked a brow. “Why not just devour him and be done with it?” he asked, a deliberate echo to the question Syrus had asked him earlier.

Syrus answered in the only way he could. Another echo, if unintentional. “Luke wouldn’t like it.”

It was the truth, and a harsh one to bear. In its way, this visit had revealed the depth of their differences, the catch inherent in Syrus’s attempts to protect his would-be mate. It came naturally to Syrus to do away with threats in whatever way he needed to. The safety of the pod was the ultimate concern, and if that meant transforming in that man’s living room and tearing him apart with his jagged teeth, so be it.

But Luke came with a different set of morals. His ethics were softer, sweeter, and less prone to gruesome violence.

Besides, what would Luke need protection from, if not for Syrus’s presence in his life?

It was a weighty question, and a dangerous mental road to travel down. Syrus had to remind himself that Luke had been surrounded by danger for years without knowing it.

Riley might have been stable now, his hunger in control, but that hadn’t always been the case.

The thought made the breath catch in Syrus’s throat. Made him want to use all his strength and sharp teeth to tear and gnaw at anything—past, present, future—that would dare threaten the peaceful life Luke had so carefully crafted for himself and his offspring.

But act too rashly and Syrus would become one of those things. And while Luke’s fear and awe had been titillating at first—nothing more than Syrus’s due with how fearsome he was in his true form—he couldn’t bear to be seen as a monster now. Not any longer. Not by his human. Not when Luke had already put aside so many reservations in accepting Syrus in his life.

What would be Luke’s limit? What would finally force him to chase Syrus from his side?

Syrus never wanted to find out.

So he would do things the mortal way. For now. He would hold back his ferocious tendencies and allow the scientist to retreat in peace.

For Luke, for Colby, Syrus would act as human as he appeared.

22

LUKE

Luke stayed at Coastal Crumbs.

He couldn’t even have said why—it wasn’t like he was doing any good waiting around here, and his monumental mountain of worry didn’t negate the fact that he had a deadline approaching for his table—but he also couldn’t make himself stand up and leave.

So he sat there, nursing cold coffee while he answered email inquiries on his phone and pretended that counted as a substantial form of work. He managed to post a few photos of older finished pieces on his neglected business social media, a task he’d been putting off for weeks. And he watched as Seth cheerfully served customer after customer, the steady stream of them as the morning progressed an obvious endorsement of how well the bakery was doing.

How well Seth was doing, despite his mate being just as absent as Luke’s…houseguest.

Seth was now smiling ear to ear as he served Trent, who looked more harried and sleep-deprived than he had a right to without any paranormal woes of his own. Luke’s old friend, who looked like a lumberjack and taught and coached at the local high school, was even wearing his flannel overshirt inside out.

When Trent had his goods in hand, Luke tried to call him over, but Trent only shook his bearded head, muttering something that sounded like “—get some fucking white sage” as he hurried out the door with barely a nod Luke’s way.

Well. So much for middle-aged male friendships. Maybe Luke should try giving the guy a call later, make sure he wasn’t as close to the edge of a nervous breakdown as he looked.

Not that Luke was doing much better. He couldn’t seem to stop his leg shaking—an old nervous habit he hadn’t indulged in since high school—and he’d had to mop up his coffee twice after wobbling the table with his bouncing knee.

Trent’s flight left the bakery empty for the first time in over an hour. Luke turned back to face the counter to find Seth leaning over crossed arms, watching him with an unreadable expression.

“A little nervous today?” Seth asked, a knowing glint to his eyes.