Page 123 of The Turning of the Tables

“I’m not sure I’d use the term ‘win,’” I told him, only half-teasing.

He laughed. “You home yet?”

“Why?” I asked him. “Trying to get rid of me?”

“Trying to figure out when I can ask you what you’re wearing,” he retorted so quickly that I knew he must have already been thinking about it. That, coupled with the question itself, made my blood heat.

And that was bad.

My skin immediately started tingling, and not in a sexual way—in a I-might-suddenly-sprout-fur kind of way. My neck flushed, and my fingers itched as my nails thickened.

“Not a good idea,” I ground out between my teeth, alarmed at the odd sound to my own voice.

“You’re right,” Elliot said quickly. “I didn’t think about that.”

I couldn’t decide if I was more frustrated or more ashamed. “Sorry,” I mumbled around aching teeth that were a little too big for my mouth and the increased saliva thatcame with them. Tears pushed at the back of my eyelids, and I struggled to both blink them back and hold the wolf part of me at bay. I leaned against the open back door of my car, one hand braced against the roof, the other holding the phone as I stared in at the box full of lab equipment that needed cleaning. I tried to focus in on the details of the glassware, the stains, the streaks of chemicals. My eyes felt weird, my contacts off-center—because of course a wolf’s eyes aren’t the same size and shape as human eyes.

“No—this one is my fault,” Elliot said, his voice soft and gentle. “Deep breaths, baby. In and out.”

“I’m going to go,” I mumbled.

“No!”

I’d been about to thumb the red circle, but even with the phone far away from my head, Elliot’s sharp exclamation was loud and clear. I wasn’t sure if it was my sharpened hearing or the volume of his voice.

“Why not?” I asked him, my mouth feeling a little more normal. At least I no longer felt like I was about to drool.

“I want you to stay with me,” he told me, his tone more even, softer. “I want to know you’re okay.”

I drew in a long breath, then let it out again. “I’ll be okay,” I told him.

“I want toknowyou are,” he repeated. “Please.”

I swallowed. “Okay,” I half-whispered.

I stayed out at the car for another several minutes, until I was certain I wasn’t going to lose control of myself while carrying a box of highly breakable glass upstairs. Elliot stayed with me as I climbed the stairs, box tucked under one arm, talking softly about the things coming up in his garden. He hadn’t done anything with it this spring, but a lot of things were blooming and growing, anyway.

I wasn’t really focusing on what he was saying, but the steady, even rhythm of his voice was soothing, calming.

Once inside, I put the box in the kitchen—Noah both hated doing dishes and knew better than to try to touch anything that looked like it had been in a lab—then went straight to my room.

“I’m safe and inside,” I told Elliot.

“Did you want me to leave you alone?” he asked me.

“N-no?” I didn’t. I liked the roughness of his voice, the way he made me feel as though he cared.

“Okay,” he said. “Because I will if you want me to.”

“No,” I repeated, more confidently this time.

It was wreaking havoc with my emotions, though. I was already falling hard for him—had been since day one, to be honest—and the more caring he was with me, the more patient and gentle, the worse it was becoming. I didn’t want him to stop, but I also knew that the more attached I got, the more painful it would be when he inevitably broke my heart.

32

ELLIOT CRANE

How are you?