by Fel Fern
“You’re hurting,” Cole said, voice gone all husky, protective.
He scoffed, wanted to change the topic. Wren should take a step back, so the Alpha werewolf could stop touching him, but he couldn’t. No. Wouldn’t. Cole’s touch didn’t feel faked or repulsive, but good, comforting.
Wren managed to find his tongue. “As you can see, I’m fine.”
“I don’t mean on the outside. Inside, you’re hurting, drowning in grief.”
“What do you know?” he whispered. “You’ve never lost a mate, never had some vital part of your soul severed the moment your mate bond snapped.”
Something cracked inside him, all the grief and frustration that had accumulated since Trey’s funeral a month ago. Never once did he cry, show weakness, but one gentle touch from a complete stranger and he easily broke down.
God. He was pathetic. Wren’s shoulders trembled, and he let out a sharp breath when Cole tugged him close, pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, but he liked it, because without Cole tethering him to reality, he might lose sight of what was important.
Cole didn’t apologize, didn’t offer words of sympathy. Good, because Wren had enough of them. People who dropped by to see Trey said those empty words easily, tossed them around like they meant nothing.
“You’re right. I don’t, but I know how badly it cuts deep inside, when losing a loved one.”
Cole’s quiet words were too genuine, too sober to be faked. Wren came to a startling realization: Cole wore his playboy persona like a second skin, but strip that away and there was another man worth knowing underneath.
“Who did you lose?”
“The man I call father.”
Wren knew about Isiah Mercer and the rest of the Mercer brothers. Who didn’t? Snow Valley was a small remote town bordered by mountains and a large expanse of woods. Secrets were hard to keep, especially if everyone knew each other’s business. Isiah Mercer had been a human handyman, a widower who’d adopted four troubled dominant shifter teens and raised them as his own.
He only heard good things about Isiah, although the Mercer brothers were infamous around town for raising hell as kids, and breaking vulnerable hearts as men. They were a close-knit group, too, and he had a feeling Cole seldom shared those words about his father with anyone, let alone a stranger.
“Why are you telling me all this?” Wren asked, twisting in Cole’s arms, so he could look at the expression on Cole’s face.
His ass bumped the counter and he realized Cole caged his body, not that he was complaining. It was dangerous though, tangling with a predatory shifter like Cole. Didn’t wolves eat wrens for dinner? He had a feeling Cole might just do that, consume him and leave nothing behind. Too bad Wren had nothing much left to give in the first place.
“I don’t know. By revealing to me you’re still grieving for your lost mate, you gave me a part of yourself. It’s only right if I do the same.”
“How did one business meeting turn out this way?” Wren began to laugh it off, so they could return to the real reason why Cole was here, but he stopped. No. Doing that would make Cole’s revelation less.
“I don’t know and I apologize for being inappropriate. I didn’t see a mate mark on your neck, so I assumed…” Cole faltered, continued. “Then midway, I recalled seeing the news four weeks ago on the local paper, a car accident.”
Cole took a couple of steps back, sheepish look on his face. “You should let me know if I’m being too overbearing.”
“Apology accepted and thanks for the hug. I needed it,” he admitted. Wren always clung to his pride, never admitted to his mistakes, but this time, he meant the words. “And I am hungry. Let’s go for that coffee.”
“You sure?” Cole asked, raising his brows.
“Absolutely. This morning turned gloomy, but let’s turn things around. I really want to talk about my kitchen.”
“Good. I know the perfect place.”
Chapter Two
“Will that be all, gentlemen?” the waitress asked.
“Yup, thanks, darling,” Cole said, giving her a wink. She gave him smile, before leaving their table.
“Is flirting as natural as breathing to you?” asked his little bird.
“I can’t let these good looks go to waste,” he teased. “Besides, I am really shallow. So deal with it.”
“You aren’t. I’ve seen your real face, Cole Mercer. There’s no use hiding.”
Those words struck him like arrows to the heart. Cole took pains to keep his mask on. Growing up, he’d come home covered in bruises and scrapes. He’d been a feral little thing, according to Isiah, just like his brothers, but when he grew older and started turning heads he realized being flirty and joking all the time made him appear less dangerous, amicable.
“I’m not hiding.”
“Yes, you are. That’s fine though, because I do the same. I hide all the time, pretend because it’s easier.” Wren laughed. “Sorry. I’m the one who suggested we move to more lighthearted topics.”
Cole wasn’t sorry at all, because he was fascinated by the brave little wren shifter.
Cole regarded the slender man in his mid-twenties sitting across the table from him. Appearance-wise, Wren Matthews was handsome, not as striking as the guys he usually hooked up with, but those blue eyes were a stunner, a dark ocean blue, capable of stripping him inside out. They were also haunted, wizened, eyes that didn’t belong to a man in his mid-twenties.
Grief left its mark on Wren, and he could guess the only reason Wren didn’t follow after his deceased mate was because of the baby growing in his belly. Cole felt like the world’s biggest asshole for hitting on Wren in the first place, but Wren had caught the interest of his wolf.
Most of the time, the wolf didn’t care for his lovers. Like Cole, all of his conquests had been searching for a good time, a good fuck in the dark, and his animal had been glad to have an outlet. As a child, he’d seen for himself how a failed mating bond could be destructive. Cole seldom thought about those times now, because he’d made good memories with Isiah and his brothers, his family, but the past had a way of resurfacing now and then.
Wren was different though, but Cole couldn’t quite put his finger on why.
“Tell me about your kitchen.”
“I want a modern style—”
“No,” he interrupted, patient. “Tell me why it’s so important to you. You’ve already mentioned it’s your personal haven.”
Cats, not wolves, were curious by nature, but at that moment, Cole felt like a feline predator pawing at a loose thread. This was odd, wanting to know everything about Wren, but it was true. His mind went back to that tender moment in Wren’s kitchen, when he had gripped Wren’s chin, touched the other man for the first time.
It was an inappropriate touch, even between shifters. They were strangers, and his brothers would probably skin him for being so unprofessional. True, Cole had gotten some of his old clients to his bed a number of times, but they’d come on to him first. Still, he couldn’t forget the way Wren had melted under his touch, all that initial ice turning into something else, softness, vulnerability.
When he had pulled Wren into a hug, Wren hadn’t resisted or pushed him away. Shifters were creatures of touch, so the embrace hadn’t been anything sexual, but at the very least, all the tension seemed to leak out of Wren’s body. Wren felt good in his arms, perfect.
Cole couldn’t recall the last time he’d simply held someone like that. Relationships weren’t what he’d been searching for. For all the town gossip, it came down to one dirty truth. The Mercer brothers were good enough for a fuck, but other than that?
They weren’t relationship material, let alone mate material, so Cole settled for quick and dirty. Not that he complained, but watching Wren’s animated face as he spoke, Cole started to wonder what he might be missing out on.
“I run an online business in my spare time,” Wren was saying. “I only make one item, chocolate cake. It started as a joke, a suggestion f
rom my best friend, Henry. I never expected orders to come in regularly. You must understand, wren shifters are submissive animals, and like wolf packs, the avian community has hierarchies, too. I’m an Omega, capable of giving birth. It’s expected of me to rely on my dominant mate’s income, to take care of the house.”
Cole understood. “But your online business is equivalent to taking stance.”
Wren nodded. “Trey and I argued about it so many times, but once he saw I could contribute to our household income, he let me continue.”
Cole clenched his jaw at the words ‘let me.’ He might not have been raised in a pack, but a few animal groups lived in Snow Valley. He knew some of them practiced backward methods of keeping their weaker members in line and encouraging them to rely on their dominant members.
“The kitchen is a symbol of your financial indolence,” he said.
Wren nodded, touched his belly briefly. “With this little one coming soon, I want to make sure I could provide for him or her. I can’t live on Trey’s insurance forever.”
“I see.” He reached for Wren’s hands across the table, surprised by how soft and small they were, compared to his rough ones. “Then I’ll make sure you get an awesome kitchen.”
Wren let out a breath. “Don’t make unreasonable promises like that, because we haven’t discussed important stuff like budget yet.”
“Doesn’t matter. Whatever your budget it, I’ll work with it, ensure you get the best materials for a reasonable price, and make sure the new kitchen meets your every need.”
“Wow. Those are big promises.”
Cole smirked. He genuinely meant every word. Cole might have a bad reputation when it came to dating, but he took his job seriously. Isiah had worked construction his entire life and passed his skills to his sons. Cole considered his job a legacy of his father’s.
“Why, doubting my ability to do my job, little bird?”
“I’ll never do that,” Wren replied softly. “Don’t call me that.”
“I can call you whatever I want.”
Wren crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at him. “Alphas,” Wren said under his breath.
That only riled his wolf up. Despite Wren’s slender physical appearance, Wren had steel underneath his skin. How could the little bird not, if he had the courage to continue living after his mate died?
The rest of lunch went fine. After talking about what he could do for Wren’s kitchen and getting Wren’s input, they moved on to other things, mundane things. Cole never found himself in this position before, one where he became genuinely interested in someone else other than his brothers or himself.
For the longest time, it seemed he and his brothers had lived in their own little world, outcasts and misfits. Everyone doubted them, didn’t think they could run their own business, but they’d proven all naysayers wrong.
What Cole should be doing was focusing was doing his job, getting more clients. Romance had never been in the picture, until now.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Wren interrupted as their breakfast plates were cleared.
Cole sipped his coffee. “Hmm? Care to elaborate?”
“Like I’m a challenge.”
“When Alpha werewolves see something they want, they go after it relentlessly.”
Wren balked, color rising to his cheeks. “W-what does that have to do with me?”
“Don’t play coy, little bird. It doesn’t become you.”
Wren scoffed. “I don’t have time for games like this. I have a baby coming.”
“Then why did you agreed to this in the first place?”
At that, Wren silently fumed at him, before finally finding the words to speak. “I didn’t mind a little distraction, a beautiful one, but now that I’ve realized I’m out of my league, it’s better to back off.”
“You shouldn’t think that. I don’t intend to play with you, Wren. You’re different, special.”
Wren looked out the windows, avoiding his gaze. Cole didn’t like that. He wanted to reach across the table, tip Wren’s chin toward him, so the little bird looked right at him. Maybe he’d be tempted to zero in for a kiss, too.
God, but those lips looked tempting. Wren had a mouth designed for his use, and if he let his imagination take him further, he imagined Wren would look gorgeous, on his knees, those lips wrapped around his dick.
Cole dragged himself away from those dirty thoughts, because they had no place in the present.
“Do you say those lines to every guy you want to pick up?” Wren finally asked.
Stung, Cole recovered quickly, not wanting to show how much the comment affected him. This little bird had a way of getting claws right into his skin, but his wolf wasn’t about to give up the pursuit.
“We’ll be more professional to each other then.” See where it goes from there, Cole didn’t add. “Do you prefer someone else? I could get one of my brothers to help you out.”
“No.”
The immediate admission, he had to admit, pleased his wolf a good deal. It told Cole he was still in the running.
“Okay then. So I’m guessing you’re refusing my initial offer to drive you around town to help you with errands?” he asked.
Wren thought about it for a second. “You can drop me off at the grocer’s and I’ll take it from there.”
“Okay then.” Cole fished out his wallet, took out a couple of bills, and placed them on the table. “Come on. Keeping you is the last thing on my mind.”
Keep Wren. The image of Wren waiting for him with a smile in his new kitchen rose up in his head, waiting for him so they could eat dinner together. Jesus Christ. Something had to be wrong with him if that domestic image came up. Maybe going at this slow, whatever this was, wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
Not that Cole planned on giving up this soon, but he wanted to plan, reassess his next strategy. One fatal mistake could drive Wren off and he didn’t want that. Once his wolf had Wren’s scent, he knew this little bird was about to become his. For all of Wren’s reluctance, Wren wanted him, too, but certain scars had burrowed deep. Wren didn’t want to be hurt, couldn’t afford to given his circumstances, but Cole didn’t plan on running after he got what he wanted.
They exited the diner and didn’t talk much as they got into Cole’s dusty blue Ford pickup. He steered the car to town and stopped in front of the local grocer’s.
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow morning and we can start on the planning, finalize our discussions, then get to work immediately. It’s going to get plenty noisy at your home, given the amount of drilling we’re going to do since you want all your floor tiles replaced.”
Wren opened the door and paused. “I see. I’ll get some ear-cancelling earphones then.”
“Until then, little bird.”
“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” Wren mumbled, but Cole didn’t mistake the little hope in the little bird’s voice.
Watching Wren enter the grocery, Cole started the engine, but he didn’t go back to the office immediately. He texted Spencer he was going to take an early lunch break and headed out to the woods near the outskirts of town. Few vehicles passed by. Tourists seldom headed out here, but it was a familiar spot for the shifters and other paranormal residents in town who needed to be close to nature.
Cole stripped down, tucked his wallet, phone, and keys into his clothes, balled them up, and exited the vehicle. Feet touching earth, he reached for his wolf. The change came instantly. Fur covered his chest and shoulders. Bones and organs rearranged themselves.
It hurt to shift, but he’d become used to the pain if it meant the promise of freedom on four paws and leaving the real world behind momentarily. He sprinted into the nearest line of trees, picking up speed. Cole blurred past trees and familiar landmarks. He inhaled the wonderful scent of pine and ash and heard the familiar residents of the forest going about their own business.
Wren’s face blazed in his head; sorrow stared back him from exhausted blue eyes. Eyes, he remem
bered from another time and place, but where? His mind went back further, years, back to when he’d been an awkward and angry skinny kid who could barely control his animal.
He saw a brown-haired kid, thanking him, gratefulness in his eyes. Cole halted, sucked in a breath. What the fuck? Wren and he had gone to the same school when they were kids? He remembered saving Wren from one bully, except back then, he hadn’t asked for Wren’s name.
Neither of them were kids anymore though, and all Cole wanted to do was make little Wren his and make it his life’s mission to chase away the sadness in those eyes and replace them with happy memories.
Chapter Three
Wren opened his e-mails and looked through his new orders. He had put his online business on temporary hold after Trey died, but now it was back to business, because sooner or later, he had to feed two mouths, not just one. Thank God, Henry had offered the use of his kitchen while construction was in full swing.
The drilling started again, practically making the floorboards of his private office vibrate. Even the noise-cancelling earphones didn’t fully tune out the sounds. Cole already warned him, since he and his crew started three days ago. Sighing, he replied to some of the e-mails, about to make a to-buy list for the ingredients he needed, but it started again.
Gritting his teeth, he shut the lid of his laptop, tucked it under his arm, and headed outside. It didn’t help his office was located next to the kitchen. The single-floor home had been adequate for a young couple, he remembered thinking, with extra space in case they had kids. He might be annoyed the drilling, but at least there was someone else in the house.
The space which he used to think small, compared to other homes on the block or Henry’s at least, seemed huge after Trey’s death. Wren was no longer used to living room, and some days, the loneliness ate at him.
He sauntered to the kitchen area and flipped the plastic sheet in the doorway aside, gaze narrowing. Remembering he’d been gently reprimanded not to get in the way in case he might get accidentally hurt, he didn’t move further.
