Page 46 of Lycans & Lattes

I tried to keep it together as I teetered on the edge of a mental breakdown. I needed to talk to Wyatt before I fully imploded.

I told Harlow to go back to the apothecary and wait for me. I lied about needing to stay at the market to shop, which Harlow dreaded more than dish duty at the café. But as soon as she was out of sight, I took off down a side street, around the block, and through the back alley to Full Moon Bakery.

Eloise turned to look at me as I entered the kitchen. Something akin to relief washed across her face at the sight of me, and I wondered if she was waiting—or hoping—for someone else. She lifted one of the headphones she wore off her ear, loud rock music blaring from them as she did.

“Willow!” She sounded pleasantly surprised, but I could hear the hesitation in her voice. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

“Where is he?” There was no need to beat around the bush. The whole town was awash with rumors about what had happened between Wyatt and me.

As if summoned, the door to the apartment above opened, and Wyatt stuck his head out. He didn’t search for me; his gaze instantly landed on me as if I were a beacon. The heat in his eyes quickly faded to guarded wariness, but I saw it there for the briefest flash.

“Willow, I . . .” Wyatt rubbed the back of his neck, his expression tight. “I don’t think you should be here. It’s not safe.”

“Five minutes,” I urged even as my heart broke at how he pushed me away. “Then I’ll go. Please. I need to talk to you.”

“Is it about those letters?”

How quickly his expression morphed into one of alertness. He’d always been my protector, even when it was just from the sadness of a tough day.

I recognized that need in him now—to make sure I was safe. I seized on his line of thought, hoping it would allow him to let me in. Simply nodding was enough to elicit a growl from him.

Oh, he really doesn’t like people messing with me. The thought sent a thrill down my spine.

Eloise took her headphones completely off and set them on the countertop. “I’ll just be down here if you need me.”

With that reassurance, Wyatt seemed to relent, and I climbed the stairs and followed him into his apartment.

I’d been over to his place a few times over the years, dropping off things or popping in to say hi, but never since we’d actually been together. Suddenly, the two-bedroom seemed incredibly small.

Wyatt walked around his kitchen table, and I wondered if he’d intentionally put it between us.

“Have there been more notes?” he asked. “Any more clues?”

I shut the door. “No.”

“Willow,” he grumbled. He seemed to realize I’d bought my way into his apartment under false pretenses.

“I was worried about you,” I said quietly, wringing my hands with nerves. “You didn’t call or message after . . . and now people are saying we broke up, which was news to me.”

“We didn’t break up. Unless you⁠—”

“We are not breaking up.”

His shoulders sagged in relief before he moved on with the rest of his explanation. “I’m sorry I didn’t call. I was afraid even hearing your voice might make me shift again. I thought about sending a carrier pigeon, but I know you have a thing about birds.”

“They’re too flappy and freaky, okay? I would have taken a simple text, though.”

“A text couldn’t convey how worried I’ve been about you or how badly I’m aching to touch you, but I’m scared I don’t know my own strength right now.”

I cleared my throat, a flush creeping across my cheeks and down my neck. A more sensible person probably would’ve been frightened by such admissions, but all I could think about was that I’d turned him on so much that he couldn’t contain himself. I’d thought over and over about what it would’ve been like if we’d continued . . . what it would’ve been like for him to claim me like that. I loved taking things soft and slow with him, but the idea of being with him while he was raw and untethered was thrilling in so many ways. Splayed out on the countertop, surrounded by splintered cabinets and broken plates while he feasted on me . . .

I pressed my lips together as lust flooded my veins.

Wyatt shoved his hands into his pockets as if restraining himself. “Willow⁠—”

“Are you okay?” I asked, stepping closer and watching him flinch.

“I should be the one asking you that.” His eyes fell to my throat, covered by my scarf.