Page 18 of The Coyote's Veterinarian Omega

And with that, he plodded back out of the room.

We waited until his footsteps had faded, both of us holding our breath, as though waiting for the other shoe to fall. The TV blared to life, the volume climbing higher than I’d ever heard itbefore.

Finally, I risked a look at Cam. “Uh.”

“Er,” he said, scratching at the back of his neck.

“You, uh … wanna take this upstairs?”

“I do,” he replied, his expression darkening, “but I don’t.”

The laugh track from whatever Vern was watching resounded obnoxiously. “I know what you mean.”

Cam sighed. “I’ll get these on.” He indicated the clothes. “And I’ll meet you upstairs?”

“Sure,” I said, finally peeling myself away from the counter. “And maybe you can explain just what the hell you think you’re doing.”

Cam took a deep breath. “Yeah,” he said, nodding. “Yeah, I’ll … try.”

Cam

Ididn’t quite understand. wyatt’s scent had changed the second vern walked in, which was normal. expected, even. he’d been embarrassed and afraid. i didn’t think he needed to be. vern was, well, vern, but it likely meant someone in wyatt’s past had taught him that he needed to hide.

Or maybe it was just normal human embarrassment about being caught with your pants down. Humans were prudish about that kind of stuff. Shifters were … less uptight, although most of us tried to play along with the rules human society set. Some of us were bigger sticklers for it than others (cough, Cal, cough).

I tugged on the jeans—too big by half—and the shirt Vern had loaned me, then trotted upstairs. Vern made a point of not looking up from his TV show when I padded by the living room.

Wyatt was, as promised, upstairs waiting for me. He usheredme into the spare bedroom, which was where he was (obviously) staying for the time being, and closed the door.

I perched on the bed—presumptuous, I knew, but I figured I wanted to be somewhere comfortable if I was going to explain that Wyatt was an omega, that he was in heat, and that I, as an alpha, was at his service.

The mattress squealed as I sat my butt down, and I grimaced. I hoped Vern had earplugs.

To my surprise, Wyatt perched beside me on the bed. “Let’s be blunt,” he said, and I blinked. His hazel gaze found my own. “I want you. Do you want me?”

I quirked a brow. “I thought that much was obvious when I ran five miles to show up naked on your doorstep.”

Wyatt looked half annoyed and half amused. “Jackass,” he muttered. He made like he was going to punch me in the arm, then blinked and dropped his hand.

Oh. Right. I was still injured. “It’s almost fine,” I told him, lifting my arm and waving it.

His expression careened right into worry. “Don’t,” he hissed, slapping his hands onto my arm and pushing it down. “Your shoulder’s still setting, you don’t want to—”

“I’m a shifter,” I told him, as gently as I could. “We heal faster. Gimme a couple more days, and I’ll be right as rain.”

He pursed his lips—so pink, so very kissable, and I got half lost in the idea of kissing him until his lips were bruised. “You should still be careful,” he said finally.

“You’re cute when you worry,” I told him, smirking.

He scowled at me. I felt my smirk widen. I resisted the urge to tell him he was also cute when he was scowling.

I leaned into his space. “My arm’s fine, you want me, and I want you, so …?”

He glanced up at me, gaze full of hesitation. I thought for a second, then said, “Right. An explanation.”

He ducked his head. I sat back, tilting my own head. “‘I like you so much I decided to run five miles’ isn’t gonna cut it?”

He shot me a glare. “I’m not gonna believe anyone isthathorny,” he said flatly.