Dodger already has enough to worry about without adding my feelings or expectations into the mix. The last thing he needs is romance. Not with a wolf over a decade older than him who’s drawn to his smell and can’t stop thinking about him.
Ever since I Recognized him, I can’t get him out of my mind. But that’s not why I’m here. I’m supposed to protect him.
That doesn’t mean I wasn’t tempted to kiss him. God, was I tempted.
I’d wanted nothing more than to pull him close, to discover if he tasted as intoxicating as he smelled, like autumn leaves and midnight air. My wolf had practically howled with desire, clawing at my insides, demanding I claim what was mine. But the human side of me knows better than to rush this.
I pay for the food, juggling two coffee cups and a brown paper bag that’s already developing grease spots as I push through the door of the bakery.
Outside, Dodger leans against the brick wall, headphones firmly in place as his fingers tap an invisible rhythm against his thigh. When he spots me, he straightens and snatches his coffee from me. “Let’s go.”
He charges ahead, leaving me to follow in his wake like some unwanted shadow. The wolf in me whines, wanting to close that gap, to make things right.
But I can’t. I did the right thing, I remind myself again. This is the right choice. For now.
After Dodger is safe and understands his powers, when nobody is after him and he can do what he wants and go where he wants, then if he still chooses to be around me and is interested, then maybe…
No. I’m not going to get my hopes up. I’m going to focus on what Dodger needs right now. What I want—getting to know my mate and making him happy—will have to wait.
~
Dodger
Mornings always suck and this one is no exception. Why did I bother getting up?
My brain is still operating at about ten percent capacity after only getting a few sips of caffeine. The indie rock playlist trickling through my earbuds isn’t doing much to improve my mood as I trudge alongside Detective Golden Wolf, who catches up to me easily and looks annoyingly alert despite the early hour.
Harper carries our breakfast in a grease-stained paper bag, the smell making my empty stomach growl. I’m keeping my distance from him, though.
After last night’s almost-kiss debacle, I have no idea what to make of this wolf who supposedly thinks we’re destined mates but then jerks away like I’ve got the plague when I lean in to close the distance between us. Mixed signals much?
“Watch your step.” Harper’s arm shoots out in front of me. I run right into it but stop short before the puddle I was about to step in.
“Thanks,” I mutter, but he’s already continuing down the street, putting distance between us like I might try to kiss him again if he lingers too close.
As if.
I take a swig of my coffee, which is still too hot and burns my tongue. Perfect. Just perfect.
The streets of Concordia feel different in the morning light, more subdued. The morning air carries the smell of bread baking in stone ovens and herbs being hung to dry.
Harper glances back, making sure I’m still following, and I catch a flash of those golden eyes before he turns away again. The guy is impossible to read. One minute he’s all protective alpha wolf, looking at me like I’m something precious, the next he’s keeping his distance like I might bite. Though technically, he’s the one with fangs.
I take another sip of my coffee, finally cooling enough to drink properly, and feel my brain kick into a slightly higher gear. Much as he deserves the silent treatment, it isn’t getting us anywhere.
I work up my nerve as we approach the hotel. I’m not some shy teenager with a crush. I’m a necromancer who can literally raise the dead. In theory, though that really isn’t the area where my innate powers are concentrated. Still, I can handle one conversation with an overgrown dog.
“Harper,” I start, pulling out my earbud as we reach the hotel entrance. “About last night—”
Harper suddenly stiffens beside me, his body going rigid. At first I think he’s reacting to me and I nearly tell him to grow up, isn’t he supposed to be mature since he’s a hundred years older than I am? Then his arm shoots out, blocking my path and pushing me back from the entrance.
“What the hell?” There’s definitely no puddle on the mat before the double doors of the hotel entrance.
The wolf shakes his head, just slightly, his jaw tight and eyes intense. They never stray, tracking something in the hotel, and something in his posture makes the words die in my throat, a tension that screams danger.
And then I hear it—a voice that sends ice water rushing through my veins.
“Detective Harper! Good to see you.”
