Bayne glanced down, rolling the sleeve between two fingers. “Never been strangled by a T-shirt. Might be a new experience.”
Clint snorted, a real laugh this time, and set about pouring a mug with the focus of a bomb tech. Mabel patrolled the edges, tail straight up, watching every move. When Clint handed Bayne the cup, their fingers brushed. Heat flared, instant and sharp. Clint pulled away, his cheeks coloring.
Starting to think my mate got lost in the mail. Bayne stilled, wondering where that thought had come from.
He took a long swallow, letting the coffee burn off the ache in his head. “This stuff could probably dissolve a penny.”
“Needed it strong after last night. I came home thinking I’d just crash, then you showed up.” Clint sipped without grimace, as if he’d built immunity to caffeine-induced heart attacks long ago.
Bayne let himself lean against the doorframe, pretending he didn’t want to reach out and keep his mate within arm’s length. “Sorry about the mess.”
Clint shook his head, setting his mug down with a gentle thunk. “Not your fault. You had a rougher night than I did.” He eyed Bayne, some of the weariness giving way to clinical curiosity. “How’s the leg?”
Bayne bent his knee, rolling his weight from heel to toe. No twinge. “Like it never happened. Shifting did the trick.”
Clint gave a sharp, approving nod. Then he asked, “The burns? You had electrical scars when I was bandaging you.”
He touched his side, remembering the way they tangled under fur and the pain. “Gone. Or mostly gone. Nothing slows us down for long. Not unless…” He broke off, catching himself before he wandered too close to topics Clint wouldn’t want to touch.
Clint watched him over the rim of the mug. “Not unless it’s silver or… something else?”
“Yeah. There’s always something worse,” Bayne said, keeping his tone casual. “Last night felt like something was chasing me. Something fast.” The next words felt odd in his mouth. “Didn’t expect to end up here.”
Clint’s eyebrows rose, but he didn’t ask what was out there. “You remember any of it?”
Fragments hovered on the edge of Bayne’s thoughts. Tearing past trees, earth slick underfoot, his pounding heart, and a feeling of desperation he didn’t want to own up to. Running. Pain in his leg and fire at his side, snapping like a livewire under his ribs. Then… nothing. Blankness.
Had anyone ever called him by a last name? Did he work somewhere? Was someone out there wondering why he hadn’t dragged his ass home last night?
He doubted it. Instinct said he’d been alone for a while. Pack or no pack, he was pretty sure his drama didn’t bleed into anyone else’s, at least not on purpose.
He shook his head. “Not much. Running. Pain. Then you.”
The memory of Clint’s hands, moving steady despite the wreckage, hovered near the surface. Not just patching him up. He’d been talking, keeping Bayne grounded, telling stories about poodles and why sensible people never wandered outside in the middle of the night.
Something about that had stuck.
“Any idea why you were in my yard?” Clint’s tone was half-joke, half-worry.
“Fate,” Bayne deadpanned. “Or maybe I wanted to steal your Netflix password.” The words came so easy. Maybe the banter worked because it put distance between them and what had really happened.
Clint smirked, glancing sideways. “I don’t have Netflix. I pirate everything.”
Bayne let out a low huff of laughter. “That’s illegal, you know.”
“So is bringing a bleeding predator into your house and not calling someone.” Clint tapped a finger on the counter, looking oddly pleased at his own retort.
This was nice. This was normal, except for the wolf in sweatpants and the mate who didn’t know he’d just changed the course of two lives with a single act of decency.
Bayne studied Clint, noting the creases at the corners of his honey-colored eyes, the way his hands curled loose around the mug. Not a hint of fear. Just tired, a little guarded, but so damn alive.
He could get used to this. No reason to rush, but no reason to pretend he wanted to leave, either.
He wanted to stay right where he was.
Stay close.
Better to keep Clint in sight, safer for them both. He still couldn’t shake the sense that something was out there, sniffing for his trail, waiting for him to slip.
