“What did you do?”
“Come on, I’m not stupid. I accepted the deal.” His eyes widen and he grabs onto the door frame for support. “Shit. I’ve never told anyone that story, just like I promised.”
Yet he shared the secret with me. Am I special?
“Your secret’s safe with me.” I step back and allow him to come inside.
He takes a few steps inside but doesn’t get any further, and I see him debating something in his head.
“Dad may have given up on me, but I’m still working on time management. If you want me to show up on time, tell me to be there an hour early.”
“Oh. Okay.” Sounds easy enough.
“But don’t be too obvious about it or I might not show up at all.”
“So hang on, you want me to lie to you and then we both pretend this conversation never happened?”
“Right. Why are you looking at me like that’s weird?”
“No, it’s totally normal. I lie about what time it is all the time.”
He’s ridiculous. But I’m not upset anymore. Somehow my anger has turned into fondness. How did he do that? Maybe my mate is magic.
I place a hand to my heart and gasp. “Never thought I’d see the day. The incredible Bane Blackwood is bad at something?”
He laughs and gives me a light shove, pushing me toward the bedroom. “Shut up.”
Technically, I should be the one sharing childhood stories or character flaws. Anything to help him see the real me. But it’s a start.
The rest of the night goes more smoothly.
Maybe there’s even something I can do to help him. There are all kinds of magical charms that might work for punctuality.
~
Josh
I’m not sure when getting to know Bane better turns into actually liking him. Maybe my opinion started changing when he helped me with magic. Maybe being close to him influences me. He’s not an easy person to crack, and I savor it each time he reveals a part of himself.
I shiver as I step out of the bathroom one night, the cool night air raising goosebumps on my skin. Without thinking, I see his bomber jacket draped over a chair and shrug it on. It hangs loosely on my smaller frame, but it’s warm and smells like Bane.
Bane’s still awake when I return to bed and watches me intently, staring at the jacket wrapped around me.
“Is it okay that I’m wearing this?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious. “I got a little cold.”
His gaze lingers on me, expression unreadable. For a moment, I worry that I’ve overstepped some invisible boundary. Rumors claim the jacket is authentic, but I didn’t think they were true. Werewolves fighting wars isn’t something that happens every day, not in this century. Especially not human wars.
“Whatever.” Bane shrugs. “It’s fine.”
Not the most enthusiastic response, but I’m getting the feeling he wouldn’t let me keep wearing it if he really objected.
“This might be a silly question, but...” I hesitate, tracing the worn leather of the jacket’s sleeve.
“Yeah, it’s real,” he answers. “My great grandpa fought in the war.”
“Did the rest of the pack support him?”
Bane lets out a low chuckle. “Hell no. They thought he was crazy. An Alpha risking discovery, risking being killed in a human war. Insisting on serving a country that didn’t even know his kind existed, but he enlisted and fought anyway.”
