by Moira Rogers
She huffed. “The stars went swimming in the river and you still weren’t coming back to my girl.”
She’d come to bring him home.
Lorelei had never thought of appealing to her sense of duty, and now she didn’t know why. Boz thrived on having someone to take care of. Here, in Clover, she could have her pick of wolves to mother.
And Colin had known.
Lorelei tried to smile, but it trembled until it broke in a sob.
Colin’s smile faltered, but Boz hustled to Lorelei’s side and wrapped frail, too-thin arms around her with inhuman strength. “There, there now. All those years waiting for you to cry. Boy.” She twisted her head to glare at Colin. “Boy! Are you always a lump?”
“No,” he murmured, chastened. He circled the table slowly and held out one arm.
Lorelei closed her hand around his wrist. “Thank you.”
He shifted his feet awkwardly, looking torn between embarrassment at her gratitude and pleasure. But he let Boz fold him into the three-way hug, and his arm slid around Lorelei’s waist, tucking her to his chest as if she still fit there.
Still belonged there.
Maybe she did. There was only one way to be sure.
It was selfish to want a few minutes alone with Lorelei that moment, but Colin had been trying to acknowledge his selfish impulses, if only to himself. He wanted a chance to resolve things with Lorelei…but his feelings would wait. Boz wouldn’t.
Of course, settling the old wolf into Green Pines hadn’t been easy. Boz might be crazier than the dinosaurs, but she had her own ideas about pack and tradition, and trying to circumvent a single one of them turned her stubborn and intractable.
Getting Boz used to the pack—and vice versa—devoured the afternoon. He was tempted to sneak Lorelei away while Boz and Mae were bonding, but Eden gave him a look only a fool would ignore and announced they were going to eat dinner together as a family. No exceptions.
It was okay to feel selfish. It was even okay to eye Jay’s mate and wonder if locking her in the pantry for a few hours would amount to dishonor or outright mutiny. The witch’s spell had stripped away the barriers between intellect and impulse, and Colin hadn’t become a monster. Actions were what mattered, and he trusted himself to do the right thing.
But as Eden and Lorelei walked the old wolf to the little house after dinner, Colin forced himself to admit another unpleasant truth.
He was nervous as hell.
Twisting anxiety forced him to bypass Lorelei’s room and wait in his own. For all the spindly, delicate furniture and ill-advised decoration, it was a familiar place covered in his own scent and the lingering remnants of hers. It felt safe. And it carried none of the echoes of their last fight, of Lorelei’s cutting pain and wild words, all the things that had driven them into the woods and into the path of danger to begin with.
Waiting here meant she had to come to him. Not a play for power, but a careful strategy, one he’d reasoned out while trying to coax Boz back with him. The last thing you wanted to do with a wolf who’d been hurt was corner her.
Of course, that only worked if they came to you.
Thankfully Lorelei did, knocking quietly after only a half hour of Colin’s anxious pacing. When he pulled open the door, she stood there, her hands nervously clenched in front of her. “Are you busy?”
He stepped back, giving her a clear path of entry. “Not at all. Got Boz all tucked in?”
“I think so.” Lorelei brushed past him. “I don’t know if she’ll sleep tonight, but she’s here. Thank you.”
“She’s important to you.” He eased the door shut only to engage the soundproofing wards, but moved to perch on the couch instead of standing between her and the exit. “And she’s part of your history.”
“And that’s important to you.” Her inflection almost turned the words into a question, but not quite.
“Yes. You’re important to me. All of you. The parts you’re ready to share…the parts you’re not.” He closed his eyes, because he couldn’t say the next words with her looking at him. Not when he knew they could hurt. “I’ll be your friend and your packmate either way. And I’ll wait for you, if that’s what it takes. But I can’t be more until you trust me all the way.”
“We can’t be friends, Colin. You know that.”
It would have been gentler to punch a few of his teeth in. He kept his eyes clenched tight so he wouldn’t lose his nerve. “No, I don’t know much of anything about how this works. I just know that I’d do anything for you…except one thing. Don’t ask me to push you again. You may not mind a few emotional bumps and bruises, but it kills me to give them to you.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” Soft steps crossed the floor, and she touched his arm. “I thought I was all right. Everyone kept asking about the things that happened in Memphis, and I figured if I was okay with all that, it’d be good enough.”
She filled his vision when he opened his eyes, as beautiful and ethereal as ever. His hands itched to close around her, to drag her into his lap. Not for sex, though his cock would stir if he allowed himself a half-second to consider it. Holding her would be enough. Burying his face against her throat and knowing he was home.
With supreme self-control, he kept his hands resting on his thighs. “You weren’t all right.”
“No,” she whispered. “I haven’t been for a long time.”
There it was, the admission that validated his instincts and broke his heart. “Me either. But I think I’m starting to get better.”
“So am I.” Lorelei smiled, tentative and nervous. “But it’s not something I can do alone. I need help. Fletcher’s going to help me find someone—a counselor who knows about supernatural things.”
Gratitude flooded him, along with a thread of jealousy. Jealousy that the idea hadn’t been his, but overwhelming relief that Fletcher, with his wealth of contacts, had stepped into that void. “Good. That’s good.” God damn it, stop saying good. “Really good.”
Fuck, this was hard. His fingers twitched, as if they’d wrap around her waist without his permission. Sometimes he thought the wolf had enough control to grant his body permission to move without his brain’s approval.
“Good.” She stared down at him, her eyes wide and so, so blue. “We can start over, can’t we? Do it right this time?”
He wanted to snatch at the chance, but she needed to know the whole truth. “Does it matter that I’m already in love with you?”
She exhaled in a rush. “I hope not, because I love you too.”
So much for self-control. He rose and let his hands have their way, tugging her snug against his chest. The top of her head fit just under his chin, and it felt good to be wrapped around her.
It felt right.
Of course, there was wanting to start over, and then there was being able to go through with it. “Tell me about Robbie,” he murmured.
It took her a moment and one soft little sigh to answer. “It was ugly at first. His father and I had only been dating for a few months, and he didn’t want a kid, so he split. It wasn’t easy, but I made it.”
Colin stroked her hair with a hum. “What a sorry bastard.”
“It would have happened eventually. It mostly made me sad for Robbie.”
For all his own father’s inability to understand why apprentice vigilante was an inappropriate occupation for an eight-year-old, Colin had never questioned the old man’s love. His sanity, his judgment, his parenting skills—but not his commitment to his son.
“It would have been sad,” he agreed, stroking her hair again. “But he had you.”
“He had me.” She shifted in his arms. “I had just finished college, and I got a job with an interior-design firm in Memphis. We were driving there when the accident happened.”
Tension trembled in her limbs, but her voice held relief as well as sadness. Colin tightened his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her temple. “A fresh start doesn’t mean you have to tell me everything all at once. Not
if it’s too much.”
“You know most of the rest. There was a man in the road—I don’t know who he was. Whether there was something wrong with him, or if that was just the way he hunted. I swerved and flipped the car down an embankment.”
“It’s not an uncommon way for lone wolves to hunt,” he admitted quietly, stroking her back. “Even if you’d hit him, he probably knew how to roll with the impact. The bumps and bruises heal by the time the victim gets out of the car.”
“Mine didn’t. I had hit my head, and when I came to, there was blood everywhere. And Robbie—he—” Lorelei shook her head, her voice thick with tears. “He was already dead.”
“Honey…”
She went on. “I know the man was human when he pulled me out of the car—I saw his hands. But after that, all I remember is the wolf.”
He didn’t remember trying to soothe her. His wolf was simply there, flooding up into him, wrapping strong, calming magic around their mate while Colin stroked her. He’d never felt so close to his other half, as if the boundary between them had blurred, or maybe vanished altogether.
“Sometimes I forget,” he murmured. “Most of you are born into our world in blood and pain. And you survive. Do you know how amazing you are for that?”
She drew back to look at him, a fierce light in her eyes. “I had to. I had to make sure he didn’t go after Robbie.”
“And you did.”
“I did.” The defiance faded as tears welled. “I couldn’t save his life, but I saved him from that hunt.”
“I know, honey. I know.” Cupping her cheeks, he kissed her forehead, then kissed away the tears as they fell. “I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry.”
“I don’t want that. I want you to understand, Colin.” She slid her hands over his. “I wasn’t trying to lie to you. It wasn’t you.”
His gut already understood the truth, but she needed to say it. And maybe he needed to hear it. The words would break through the pain and wounded ego once and for all. “What was it?”
“I couldn’t tell anyone,” she whispered. “You already know, but saying it still makes me feel like I’m doing something horrible. Like I’m making it happen all over again, or making it more real.”
He swiped a stray tear from her cheek with his thumb. If only pain could be erased as easily. Helplessness twisted his gut into knots, but there was nothing to fight. No dragons to slay, no quick fix. It should have sent him into a blind panic.
It didn’t.
Lorelei sighed. “That’s why I need to get help. Because I know feeling that way is bullshit, but I can’t stop it.”
“And I’ll be here. If you want to talk. Or not.” Smiling, he kissed her temple. “If you want to shout. Anything, honey. In case you didn’t notice, my wolf is a little attached to you. I think we’d try to raze Memphis if you wanted it bad enough, so use your powers for good, huh?”
“There’s nothing to fight,” she said, echoing his thoughts. “There’s only me.”
Closing his eyes, he laughed at himself. “See? You’re not the only one who needs to start thinking differently. I won’t just fight for you. I’ll build the things you need, care for the people you love. I don’t just want to be your shield. I want to be your everything.”
She answered his helpless tumble of words with a tentative smile. “I have to learn how to do those things for myself before I can let you do them for me…but I want that too.”
Not a blind acceptance, but something better. Honesty, an admission of the rocky ground and a clear line he needed to respect. Carrying her through the painful memories would soothe his need to protect her in the short-term, but she wasn’t offering him a few days or weeks.
This was a lifetime, and that was a long time for a werewolf. “Does starting over mean keeping separate bedrooms?” he asked, struggling for overblown innocence. He wanted to hear her laugh. He wanted to hear that every day for the rest of forever. “Yours is so far away from here…”
She gave him what he wanted—a low, clear chuckle. “Across the hall?”
“That’s three steps, minimum. Plus the six to get to my door from the bed…another five or six in your room…” He made what he hoped was a plaintive noise. “Plus getting caught sneaking across the hall at night. Do you have any idea how often Mae’s in the kitchen eating ice cream at two in the morning?”
Lorelei crossed her arms over her chest and arched a teasing eyebrow. “You don’t want anyone to know you’re carrying on with me?”
“Absolutely,” he replied solemnly. “That’s why I want to live with you.”
“Good. Because your furniture is ugly.”
He choked on a laugh. “God, it is, isn’t it?” Sobering, he caught Lorelei’s hand. “I don’t care if it’s here, or in your room, or in a barn or under a haystack. I don’t care if we screw three times a day or spend the next month kissing. As long as we’re together when we close our eyes and together when we open them.”
“Yes.” She stretched up on her toes, slid her arms around his neck and kissed him.
A promise. A challenge. Colin wrapped her in his arms as snugly as she was already wrapped in his heart, and focused his attention on returning her kiss.
Well, most of his attention. A tiny part of his mind numbered the days until Christmas and concluded there was one thing he could build for her to commemorate their new life beginning—some new furniture. Something simple. Something attractive.
Something sturdy enough to last their part of forever.
Colin hadn’t been joking about Mae’s late-night forays into the kitchen, so he wasn’t surprised to see the light spilling into the hallway when he slipped from Lorelei’s room. He rounded the corner, his lips already parted to greet Mae, and drew up abruptly when he found Shane poking at an old, disassembled radio.
He looked up and waved the screwdriver at the parts scattered across the table. “Found this in the attic.”
“Lot of crazy stuff up there.” Colin retrieved a glass of sweet tea before taking the seat across from Shane. “That thing looks older than either of us.”
“Damn near. The only difference is that the radio has seen better days.” A tiny smile quirked his lips. “Not you, though.”
His own smile appeared without prompting. At this rate, his jaw would be aching inside of a week. Smiling this much couldn’t be natural, and damned if he cared. “No, not me. These are pretty good days.”
Shane set the radio aside. “I’m glad. You shouldn’t be alone.”
None of them should, maybe Shane least of all, when he’d spent so much of his life that way already. “I’m not. We’re not. All we have to do is keep this place safe.”
“Seems like a bit of an ongoing process at this point, doesn’t it?” He paused. “The witch is dead.”
That wiped away Colin’s silly grin. “How? And when?”
“Jay found her earlier. Magical version of a cyanide capsule, I guess.”
In some ways, it simplified things. His darkly practical side had no trouble doing that math. Fletcher had already slammed against the wall of how much information he could convince her to hand over short of torture, and Eden had drawn that line before anyone got a chance to suggest it. But a hostage took resources to keep contained, and there had always been the danger that she might break free.
No, Colin felt decidedly safer with her gone. That didn’t mean it was for the best, though. “Did they get anything out of her?”
“Nothing we didn’t already know.” Shane shrugged. “Stella was working on a spell to compel her to give us more information, but the best she can figure now is that they’d been drawing power from the node. She and Sasha disrupted that, and the witches were looking to put it back in operation.”
“Well, they can’t do that dead, so I guess we can all sleep soundly at night.” Colin arched an eyebrow at Shane. “We can, right? Is there a reason you’re camped out in the kitchen?”
Shane nudged the radio out of the way and reached for
his beer. “Just listening to the place. I didn’t feel like sleeping.”
“Not much to hear,” Colin started, but the creak of the stairs proved him wrong. He knew who it was before the footsteps made it halfway down the hall; of the people currently living upstairs, Kaley strode with purpose, Tammy crept and Fletcher thumped his boots like he was trying to announce his presence a hundred feet off. Only Mae drifted, lazy, unhurried steps as if she wasn’t paying much attention to where she was going.
Maybe it was a coincidence. And maybe he wasn’t the only one who knew about Mae’s late-night ramblings.
She turned the corner and stopped abruptly, blinking at them both, and Colin rose to offer her his chair. “I was just on my way out. I want to check on Boz and make sure she’s doing okay her first night under a roof.”
“All right.” Mae smiled and tossed him a sleepy wave on her way to the deep freezer. “Have a good night.”
Shane ignored him. It would have been easy to blame it on his lack of interest in social niceties, but sometimes Colin thought other people faded from Shane’s awareness when Mae entered a room. Not that he watched her too closely or stared, but Colin never doubted that Shane was focused on her tiniest gesture or expression.
Leaving them to what he was beginning to suspect was at least a semi-nightly ritual, Colin pushed out the door. The porch creaked under his feet, and the night breeze carried the sharp scent of frost. The quicker he ran his errand, the quicker he could be back in a warm bed, curled around his mate.
He hopped the steps and started across the lawn. The little house was empty except for Boz, which might be the only reason she’d agreed to stay there at all. Close quarters bothered her after so long living under the night sky, but she’d adapt quickly enough. For Lorelei, he thought she’d do anything.
They had that in common.
A flicker of movement caught his eye, but when he turned his head, there was nothing there. Colin shook it off and kept walking, but it happened again. He looked automatically, his gaze tracking toward the disturbance in his peripheral vision.
