by Zoe Chant
“Sorry it's such a mess,” she said. “I'd claim that it's cleaner most of the time, but, well, I'd be lying.”
Ken smiled at her, feeling strangely tender in the face of normal life detritus. “I don't mind,” he said. “I usually keep a tight camp, but when I'm at home, I leave stuff lying around all the time.” He'd probably do it more often if he had more stuff. Being in the Marines had taught him to make do with whatever he had, only have what he needed, and that had carried over into the rest of his life pretty thoroughly.
It didn't help that he'd lived mostly in tiny studio apartments, moving around for school and then for his job, and now he spent weeks or months at a time away on research trips. He’d never had the opportunity to sit down and acquire a normal person’s amount of stuff.
And now, he might be—
Shit. The implications of Lynn showing him around this place suddenly hit him. Hard.
They were still holding hands, which he was glad of, all of a sudden. He lifted her hand and kissed the back of it, a soft kiss, and watched her shiver in response. “Have you lived here your whole life, then?”
Lynn nodded. “Born and raised in these four walls, never lived anywhere else.”
“It’s a beautiful home,” he said softly.
Lynn nodded. “Gorgeous. My great-grandfather really knew what he was doing. He built a lot of the homes in this area.” She shrugged. “But it’s too big of a house just for me. I rattle around in it like a penny in a can, sometimes. Hardly use most of the rooms—some of them have been shut up for years. I love it, but...I wish my sister Stella hadn’t left, sometimes, even though we fight all the time when she’s here.”
“So,” Ken started, “this is one of those moments where I’m going to say something scary. Maybe we could just stand here after I say it and be freaking terrified, okay?”
Lynn stood up straighter. He saw a challenging spark in her eyes, just before she said, “Say what you gotta say, mister. I’m not scared.”
He couldn’t help but grin. “Fine, if you put it like that.” He took a deep breath. “Do you want me to come live in this house with you?”
She met his eyes. Despite her words, he could see the tremulous fear in them. But her answer was a brave, “Yes.”
Ken let out his breath, and somewhere in the process it turned into a laugh. “Oh, good.”
She hesitated for a long minute—and then copied what he’d done to her: she lifted their joined hands, and pressed a kiss to the back of his.
On the one hand, it was a strange thing: women didn’t kiss men’s hands, not like that. But the soft press of her lips against his hand, and the way she held his eyes when she did it, unblinking, made a warmth rise in Ken’s chest, a feeling of safety, of homecoming.
This was his mate, and she wanted him to come live in her home, cook food for her in her kitchen, curl up in front of her fire and stretch out in front of her sunlit windows. Leave things lying around in her room.
Sleep in her unmade bed.
Ken was so overwhelmed by the thought—by the moment—by everything, that there wasn't any room for doubting: he had to kiss her. He leaned down and caught her mouth, pulling her into his arms, tasting the surprised noise she made.
And she melted. Like liquid in his arms, she curved up against him, conforming to his body, surrendering completely. Ken felt the same hot flash run through him that he'd felt when she'd taken control this morning.
The idea that they could trust each other this much, that they could let each other do anything they pleased, knowing that they were in safe hands...
Ken loved it. And he was going to take care of the precious gift he'd been given. He opened Lynn's mouth with his tongue, holding her tight, until they were caught up together in a close, warm meld of breath and lips and bodies. Lynn sighed in pleasure, and Ken let his eyes close with the knowledge that this was perfection.
Lynn's phone rang.
She jumped, although she couldn't move far, since Ken wasn't letting her go just yet.
It kept ringing.
She sighed. This wasn't the little-kitten sound of contentment that had thrilled him a second ago. It was an I-can't-believe-this sigh. A sorry-I-have-to-get-this sigh.
“I should at least look at it,” she said.
Ken let her go reluctantly. He consoled himself with the reminder that they were mated. This relationship was forever. They could have many, many other moments like this.
But this one was perfect, his lion muttered. We shouldn't have let her go.
We weren't about to just hold her hostage, Ken reminded him. We're not the kiss jailers.
Any further unhelpful comments from his toothier side were forestalled by Lynn's voice rising in alarm.
“Wait—Stella—you're not making any sense.”
Ken frowned, his annoyance slipping away, being replaced by concern. Something was wrong.
***
Stella was tripping over her words. “Todd brought the pack over—I mean, that’s not the problem, they’ve been over before, but this time it’s—it’s really a problem this time, and I sent Eva to her room but I don’t know what sort of trouble they’re going to stir up—”
Lynn took a slow breath, made sure her voice was absolutely calm, and said, “Stella, what do you need?”
“Will you come get us?” Stella asked miserably. “I’m sorry, I know it’s a long way, but my car died last week and Todd’s been driving us. He’s a good guy, you know, it’s just the pack—when they’re all together like this, and they’ve been drinking—”
Stella’s boyfriend was a wolf shifter. Lynn had only met him once, and she hadn’t been at all impressed. She knew Eva didn’t like him, either. Not liking your mom’s boyfriend was probably embedded in the teenager code, true, but Eva was a smart kid with a good head on her shoulders. Lynn would probably trust her judgment before she trusted Stella’s.
“Has anyone threatened you? Or Eva?” she asked, looking around for her keys. Oh, they were in her pocket. Good. “Can you call the police?”
“The p—I mean, that wouldn’t be any use out here,” Stella said. “That just wouldn’t work. They all know each other.”
Lynn’s fingers clenched on her keys. She hadn’t missed that Stella had avoided using the word police. Had answered the question in the most generic possible terms.
Her sister was impulsive and quick to trust people she shouldn’t, but she wasn’t an idiot. She was afraid of what might happen if the wolf pack heard her talking about the police, and that meant Lynn was afraid, too.
“I’m leaving now,” she told Stella, “but it’ll be a couple hours before I can get to you. Will you be safe that long? Is there somewhere you can go? Could you and Eva shift and get to the woods?”
“I don’t want to do that,” Stella said quietly. “They might—it might turn into a game.”
With the wolves shifting too, and chasing them. Christ. “Okay.” Lynn summoned all of her willpower and did not start yelling at Stella for moving in with this worthless guy in the first place. “You and Eva stay out of the way, stay as safe as you can, and run if you have to. I’m coming.”
“Okay,” Stella said. She already sounded calmer and stronger than she had when she called.
“And call again if you need to,” Lynn added. “I’ll see you in a couple hours.”
“Okay,” Stella repeated. “Thanks. Thank you.”
“Of course,” Lynn said. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Stella hung up.
Lynn let out a breath, staring at her phone.
Warm hands landed on her shoulders, and she nearly jumped out of her skin before remembering Ken.
Ken. God. She’d been so focused on her sister, she’d literally forgotten he was there.
“I guess you heard all that,” she said. With shifter hearing, he would’ve heard Stella’s side of the conversation, too, no problem.
Too late, she wondered if she should’ve avoided mentioning th
e police, if she should’ve tried to make the conversation sound innocuous, in case any of the wolves were listening in. But Lynn hadn’t heard any angry male voices on the other side, no sign that someone other than Stella was reacting to what she’d said. Maybe it was okay.
“I did,” Ken said. “Your sister’s in trouble, it sounds like.”
Lynn nodded grimly. “And my niece. She’s seventeen, and I don’t want her anywhere near a pack of rowdy wolves.” She held up her keys. “I’m sorry about this, but I really have to go get them. I can’t leave them there with those wolves, not knowing what’s going to happen...”
“Of course you can’t,” Ken said, sounding offended that she’d even apologized for it.
Good. That was good. And...she hesitated.
“What is it?” he asked quietly.
A pack of wolves. Stella hadn’t said how many there were—Lynn should’ve asked, she realized now; maybe she should text Stella to see—but a pack was definitely more than one or two. If she tried to get Stella and Eva out of there, would the wolves object?
Stella wasn’t a fighter—she was much more likely to try and run away. Lynn wasn’t about to let Eva fight anyone or anything. Which meant that if there was a real problem, it would be her alone against—five wolves? Six? Ten?
“Would you...” God. This was harder than she’d thought.
Lynn was so used to doing everything herself. So used to depending on no one, to being the older sister who had her life together and who could take care of everything. Her own business, that she ran alone. Her own house, where she lived alone.
Her own life—alone. She might not need anyone, but that meant that she didn’t have anyone, either.
Wasn’t asking for help a good thing? Because it meant that she had someone to ask. Someone in her life who would help.
And it wasn’t like she was uncertain of the answer, after all. She knew what Ken was going to say before she asked. There wasn’t any question at all.
“Will you come with me?” came out of her mouth, all at once.
It was easier to say than she’d thought it would be.
And if anything, Ken looked even more offended at the idea that she might’ve thought about going alone. The expression almost made her giggle. Or maybe that was the rush of relief.
“Of course I’m coming with you,” he said.
The relief wasn’t because he’d said yes. She’d known he’d say yes.
She was relieved she’d been able to ask.
Maybe she could figure out this having a mate thing, after all. Maybe she wasn’t an incurably single cantankerous middle-aged spinster, and she really could work this man into her life, learn to depend on him the way couples depended on each other.
“Lynn,” Ken was saying, “if you thought I would leave you to walk into a literal den of wolves by yourself, we’re going to have to have a conversation about what being mates means.”
Now she did giggle. It was strange to laugh in the middle of a serious situation like this, but it didn’t feel inappropriate, somehow. “I guess I wasn’t thinking about it in those terms, exactly.”
She was learning that that was just how Ken was. She bet he’d joked around when he was overseas, in combat with other Marines, too. It was a way of letting out the tension that could hover thick in the air. Making it easier to breathe, easier to think clearly.
“Well, now you know.” He took her hand. She was already getting used to the feeling of his big, warm fingers engulfing hers. It was calming. “In the future, just remember: anytime you’re facing a den of wolves, I’m going to be right there by your side.”
She nodded. “No dens of wolves alone. Got it.”
“Good. Time to get going, then.”
“Yes.” She led the way out of her bedroom—with a sudden faint pang of regret for the lovely, sexy evening that they’d been about to have, that she’d been anticipating with her entire body when he kissed her.
But they’d have other evenings.
They took her car, because there wouldn’t be room in Ken’s truck for everyone. Lynn felt a little more secure as she pulled away, because at least she was doing something, even if it was only driving. Ken settled in next to her, looking alert, but not jittery or tense.
“You don’t seem worried,” she said to him after a few minutes, casting a look over at the passenger’s seat. “There’s going to be a whole group of wolves there. They might not care that Stella and Eva are leaving, but...they might.”
Ken nodded. “I get it. But I don’t think we’ll be in any danger. Most shifters will back down from a lion at first—even a whole pack of wolves is going to take a minute to regroup and figure out what they want to do, if I shift. And a minute is all we need, if we’re extracting your sister and her daughter and getting the hell out of there.”
Extracting. “You make it sound like a military operation.”
“There’s two responses to that.” Ken sounded surprisingly thoughtful. Lynn had expected him to either say that it was just like a military operation, or to laugh.
But instead, he was settling in to an explanation. “First, yeah, I was using a little bit of military language there. Just a little. And that’s just because I’ve had training for situations like this—removing civilians from a hostile environment. Which is good. I’m pretty sure I can help settle this whole thing without any real trouble, even if the wolves want to make some.”
“That’s good.” But there was still a kind of uncomfortable feeling in her stomach at the idea of Stella and Eva just being referred to as civilians in a hostile environment.
“On the other hand,” Ken was continuing, “this is nothing like a military operation, because you’re my mate, my family, and that means that those two women in there are my family too. And I want you to understand that, if I were in the military, I’d have orders and priorities and people I had to report to, and primary and secondary mission objectives, and a lot of bullshit flying around.”
“But?” she asked. Her mouth felt dry.
“But I’m not in the military. I have only one priority here, and that is you. You want your sister and your niece out of there, well, I’m getting them out of there. No question, no other focus, nothing but that.”
Lynn flushed, full of wonder at this idea. That someone's priority could be her. It seemed like a silly thing to want, for a grown-up. Shouldn't her own priorities be enough? But apparently they weren't, because the idea felt like a kind of completion.
“Thank you,” she said finally, although it seemed inadequate.
He smiled warmly. “Believe me when I tell you that putting you first is my pleasure.”
She blushed. God, she'd blushed so much in the last couple of days, when normally she never, ever did.
“So tell me about your sister,” Ken said, as though sensing her embarrassment, responding with a change of subject. “We’ve got a long drive, so there’s plenty of time to catch me up on this new family. What was it like growing up together? I haven't heard anything about her yet, not like your grandmother.”
Lynn sighed. “Well, there's kind of a reason for that.”
“Oh?” She could hear the curiosity in his voice.
“Stella is...she's a little flighty. She doesn't like to be tied down, doesn't want anyone to tell her what to do. But she doesn't always plan very well for herself, so that can cause some problems with her life, when she doesn't think about practicalities and then ends up in trouble.” Lynn shook her head. “She's always been like that, ever since we were kids. And I—well.”
“You're not like that.” Ken was smiling, she could tell without looking.
“No,” she said on a let-out breath. “No, I'm not. I like to have a plan, I like to know what's going to happen, and I like to be in control of a situation. So basically, that means that whenever Stella and I are together for too long, we start fighting. Because I see that she's about to trainwreck and I try to stop it, but she doesn't want to hear it, and if I tel
l her not to do something, that just guarantees she's going to do it anyway. And then I'm angry she didn't listen to me, and she's angry that I wouldn't trust her—even if it clearly wasn't going to work out—” She made herself stop.
Ken was quiet for a minute, thinking. What he came up with, finally, was, “That sounds frustrating as hell for both of you.”
Lynn laughed humorlessly. “Yup. So we don't spend a lot of time together. Unless,” she said pointedly, “she gets herself in trouble so bad that she needs my help to get out of it. Like tonight.”
“And you still drop everything and go running,” Ken said softly.
Lynn glanced at him. “Well. Yes. She's my sister. I'm not going to abandon her if she really needs help.”
“Some people would say that she made her own bed, and she should have to lie in it,” Ken said darkly.
Lynn experienced a flash of insight—she wondered if this was how Ken felt, when he seemed to be reading her mind sometimes. “Like your parents?”
A startled pause. “Well,” Ken said finally. “Yes.”
“What was it like growing up with them?” Lynn asked softly.
Ken was quiet for a minute. “It was tough,” he said finally. “I think I'm naturally more like your sister than like you. I like to go with the flow, I don't tend to make plans too far in advance. But my parents weren't having any of that. No sense of humor—my dad especially. He wanted to know exactly where I was at all times. And they were both terrified of what might happen if they didn't have everything locked down months or years in advance.”
“That sounds even more frustrating,” Lynn said. “My sister and I can argue with each other, and neither of us can really tell the other what to do.” Although she tried sometimes. “But if it was your parents...”
“Yeah,” Ken said. “There's a reason I ran away and joined the military.”
Lynn felt her mouth quirk a little. “Where they told you what to do and wanted to control every aspect of your life?”
“Hey.” There was laughter hinting at the edges of Ken's voice. “I never said it was an especially smart decision.”
