Page 73 of Glitched Fates & Stolen Mates

Ah. I still hadn’t got around to telling him about Wren yet. I accidentally let out a laugh, and Kit stared at me like I’d just sprouted a second head.

“I’m serious,” Kit said, his voice almost wounded.

“So, I… maybe should have corrected you a while back, but I was confused why you kept bringing Wren up. But anyway, I’m not… with Wren. He’s just a friend. Not my boyfriend.”

Kit went completely still. Only his eyes moved, blinking slowly as if his brain had crashed and was attempting to reboot.

“Wren… is… just… a friend?” he repeated back, as if I’d been speaking French.

I nodded.

“What do you mean? I… I…” He rubbed his hand over his face, the gears visibly turning behind his eyes, a processor struggling with corrupted data.

I sighed. “So he was interested in me, initially. Remember when Emma told everyone he wanted to take me for coffee last Christmas? Then, I was so anxious that I acted like a complete freak every time I went to Fat Cat’s, so he didn’t ask me out for months. Then we sort of dated a bit? Sort of?” I shuffled, remembering that hilariously awkward time where I had no idea what was going on. “But we decided to be friends. It’s really that simple.”

Kit shook his head like it wasn’t simple at all. “I saw him put his arm around you!”

“Yeah, Wren’s super touchy-feely. With everyone. It’s disturbing, but I had to get with the programme.”

“Right…” Kit said slowly. “So just friends. Got it.”

His face split into a wide grin—handsomely boyish—and I ducked my head shyly, a warm flush shooting straight to my cheeks.

“So… are we going to do the wolf thing?” I said. “You know, the reason for coming all the way out here? What happened to ‘We’re here to train, not chat?’ Unless this was all a guise to interrogate me about my love life? Or lack of one?”

Kit scoffed, then jumped to his feet. “Right. Yes. Training.” He brushed dirt off his trousers, appearing slightly flustered. “Okay, let’s just have you getting used to me first. My size.” His eyes widened, and he grimaced. “I mean, as a wolf. My wolf’s size.”

I stared at him. “Yes…”

“I’ll shift behind those trees.” He pointed to a cluster of oaks. “When I come back out…” He paused, running a hand through his thick mane of hair. “When I come back out, remember, I’ll still be me. Just, you know. Differently shaped.”

I nodded, my mouth suddenly dry. “You’ll be able to completely understand me, yeah?”

“Every word.” His voice gentled. “My thoughts will be different, but I’ll be in complete control. I promise, Felix. I would never hurt you.”

Sincerity sparkled in his eyes.

“I know.”

Kit disappeared into the treeline, and soon there was the rustle of fabric. I stared determinedly at the leafy ground, trying not to think about Kit naked just a few metres away.

A low, rumbling sound forced my gaze up.

The wolf that emerged from the trees was massive. Easily twice the size of any wolf I’d seen in documentaries, with thick grey fur and darker markings around his face and ears. A jagged scar ran over his left eye, the same one Kit bore in human form, now more pronounced.

And those eyes, so unmistakably Kit, even though they were amber now, gleaming in the sunlight. Watching me with the same careful intensity he always did.

“Bloody hell,” I whispered. “I always forget how enormous you are.”

The wolf—Kit—made a sound that might have been laughter. He padded closer, moving with that same grace I recognised from his human form, and sat down about two metres away. Close enough that I could see the individual hairs of his coat, the way his ears twitched at every small sound, but far enough that I didn’t feel crowded.

“So,” I said, my voice slightly strangled. “Are you going to pretend to attack me? Because you haven’t actually taught me how to fight off a wolf yet.”

A low snort escaped him, then he tilted his head, ears pricked forward. Powerful muscles shifted as he moved to circle me—not stalking, just positioning himself. His nose bumped against my shoulder blade, and I almost jumped out of my skin. Warm breath tickled against the back of my neck as he gave a wolfy chuckle. My shoulders tensed automatically, every muscle in my body screaming that I had a massive, deadly predator directly behind me.

“Right,” I said, my voice coming out hilariously high. “So what exactly is the proper defensive position when a wolf is breathing down your neck? Did we cover this in our ballroom sessions?”

Kit padded around to my side, large eyes fixed on my face. He was studying me—watching for any sign of genuine fear or discomfort. When he seemed satisfied that I was more nervous than terrified, he moved to circle me again, this time brushing against my shoulder.