It was that simple, except nothing about Mason felt simple.
Tony and Nico’s little house came into view through the pines, warm light spilling from the windows.
The scent of coffee and something sweet drifted faintly through the air, but it was the sharper, wilder note underneath that caught my attention first. Mason.
He was already outside, standing near the porch steps like he’d been waiting a while. Hands shoved into the pockets of his worn jacket. His shoulders were tight, and he was shifting his weight from foot to foot in small, restless movements.
Mason was fidgety and nervous. I slowed as I approached, studying him.
His dark hair was slightly damp, like he’d just got out of the shower. Dark jeans hugged his lean frame just right, paired with a simple shirt and a worn jacket. My gaze lingered a second too long before I dragged it away. Yeah, he looked good.
His gaze flicked up when he heard me, sharp and alert before softening when he recognized me. Something in my chest eased.
“Morning,” I said.
“Morning.” His voice was steady, but I caught the way his fingers curled tighter inside his pockets.
Right. Of course he was nervous. Packless coyote dropped into the middle of wolf territory overnight. Yeah, that would rattle anyone.
I remembered all too clearly how overwhelmed I’d been when my family first moved to Pecan Pines. The constant press of pack scent. The unspoken hierarchy.
The difference was, I hadn’t been alone. Mason was. The thought sat heavy in my chest.
“Ready?” I asked gently.
He swallowed, throat working. “Sure.”
Then, after a beat, he asked, “How’s your alpha like? I’ve never met a leader of a pack before.”
So it wasn’t only nerves. He sounded genuinely unsure. Before I could overthink it, I reached out and rested my hand lightly on his shoulder.
The moment my palm made contact, my wolf surged forward like it had been waiting for permission. Heat flickered low in my gut. Mason went very still.
Dang it. I pulled my hand back like I’d touched a live wire.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to just—” I began.
“It’s fine,” Mason said quickly.
His gaze lifted to mine, and there was something warm there now, something curious.
Well. That did absolutely nothing helpful for my pulse. I cleared my throat, trying very hard to remember how to act like a normal person.
“Cooper’s laid back. Seriously. He’s not the intimidating type unless you give him a reason,” I told him.
A faint smile tugged at Mason’s mouth.
“Good to know,” he said.
We started toward the main pack house together, walking side by side along the worn path. I kept my pace easy, matching his without thinking about it.
The main pack house sat broad and solid among the trees, morning activity already humming around the grounds. Wolves moved through the space with easy familiarity.
Mason’s head turned slowly as we approached, his gaze tracking everything. He seemed curious and perhaps a little overwhelmed.
“You’ll get used to it,” I said.
His eyes flicked to me. “Used to being surrounded by wolves?”
