Indy looked up at him, rain misting his face. “Can you carry the box? I don’t want to jostle them more than necessary.”
Malik lifted it easily, cradling it against his torso. The dogs whimpered but didn’t try to escape. Indy stood, brushing off his knees, and Malik caught the way his gaze traveled up Malik’s body, lingering on his arms, his shoulders, before jerking away with color rising in his cheeks.
“Let me lock up first. I’ll only be a second,” Indy said before taking off through the door. Two minutes later he was back, breathing a little heavy.
“Lead the way,” he said then added, “And maybe walk fast? Because those demon guys really creeped me out, and I’d like to not see them again.”
They moved through the alley, Indy close enough that Malik could feel the warmth radiating from him. Every instinct screamed at him to get his mate somewhere safe, somewhere fortified, where nothing could reach him. The dogs’ soft cries provided a soundtrack to their hurried steps.
“So,” Indy said as they emerged onto a side street, “do you have a name? Or should I keep thinking of you as ‘the absurdly tall wet guy who growled in my flower shop’?”
“Malik.”
“Malik.” Indy tested the name, and hearing it in his mate’s voice did something to Malik’s pulse. “Okay. Malik. Can I ask what those things want with you?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Yeah, I figured.” They turned another corner. “Is your team going to be weird about me showing up? Because I’m getting the feeling you’re not exactly living a normal suburban life.”
“They’ll understand.”
“That’s vague.”
“It has to be.”
Indy was quiet for a moment, his sneakers splashing through puddles. “Are you going to hurt me?” His mate gestured toward him. “You’re a predator with demons after you.”
The question hit Malik like a physical blow. He stopped walking, forcing Indy to stop as well. When their eyes met, Malik made sure his voice left no room for doubt.
“Never.”
Something in his mate’s expression softened. “Okay. I believe you.” He started walking again, and Malik fell into step beside him. “Doesn’t mean I’m not confused as hell about whatever this is, but I believe you won’t hurt me.”
* * * *
They reached Malik’s truck, a black four-wheel drive parked in the shadows between two buildings. Malik loaded the box of dogs into the truck bed, securing it with straps so it wouldn’t slide. The rain had tapered to a fine mist that clung to Indy’s eyelashes and made everything look soft-focused, like a dream.
He climbed into the passenger seat, his soaked sweater clinging to his frame. The interior smelled like leather and something distinctly masculine, cedar and musk, which had to be Malik’s scent. His fox wanted to roll in it until that scent covered every inch of him. The thought made heat flood his face.
“Seatbelt,” Malik said, his voice low.
Right. Car safety. Not thinking about how Malik’s hands looked wrapped around the steering wheel or how the wet fabric of his shirt outlined every muscle. Indy fumbled with the belt, his fingers clumsy.
The engine rumbled to life, and they pulled onto the empty street. Indy twisted to look through the rear window at the box. He could just make out the huddled shapes of the dogs through the rain-streaked glass.
“They’ll be okay for the drive?” he asked.
“It’s not far.”
Indy faced forward again, hyper-aware of Malik beside him. The shifter filled the space like he’d been poured into it, all contained power and controlled movements. Every time he shifted gears, the muscles in his forearm flexed, and Indy had to look away before he did something embarrassing like reach out and touch.
His fox was going haywire. It wanted out, wanted to curl up in Malik’s lap, wanted to rub against him until they smelled like each other. The pull was so strong it made his skin feel too tight, like his human form couldn’t contain what was happening inside him.
“So,” Indy said, because silence made the tension worse, “your team. Are they all”—he gestured vaguely—“like you? Predators?”
Malik’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “Yes.”
“And the vet?”
