Page 5 of The Hummingbird’s Gift

The first thing he smelled was Rohahen. Warm and musky and close, with just a tang of whatever drug they’d pumped into him underlying his health. That was a relief. He was recovering.

It was summer, so Tier’s antlers were heavy and full, wider across as his body was long. He tossed his head, instinctively trying to impress Rohahen.

Rohahen gave him a nod, though he wasn’t sure if that meant anything. He felt a bit silly. In this form, too, Rohahen was still five times his weight and far more dangerous.

Tier moved a little closer, hooves slow, alternating his feet diagonally. Why did Rohahen want him to shift? Did he, perhaps, want him to stay longer?

He sank down on his knees, perhaps a foot away.

Rohahen rolled onto his side, so that the thick hump of his back lay along the full length of Tier’s body. He was a little too warm and a little too heavy, and he was perfect.

Tier hesitated, though he instinctively already knew what to do. After a few moments, with Rohahen quiet and safe beside him, he began licking his neck to groom the coarse hair. If they were wild animals, he would be removing insects, but this was all for comfort. It was his job, even, as the dominant animal to initiate grooming and cement their animal bond. It felt right.

He finished one patch and moved to the next, watching as Rohahen’s head drooped. He felt a warm tingle in his throat, less of a concept and more of a feeling being communicated. Happiness. Safety. Comfort.

He didn’t know how Rohahen used his gift in that way, but it warmed him to feel it.

Tier had dozens of emails to answer. Important calls to make. Schedules to plan.

But his deer half didn't care. He sat in the sunshine and groomed Rohahen’s ears.

Chapter 2

Rohahen

Rohahen tried to balance the hot tray from the oven while he dug into his pocket for his phone. Realizing it was too much, he cleared off the counter to set down the tray and then fished it out.

He’d missed the call, but the name read Geir. Not that he expected Geir to call him. This had to be Declan.

He called back and put it on speaker.

“Ro! Are you OK? Oh my God, I was so worried when they couldn’t find you, and then there were actual guns at that awful place where they took May. And have you seen May yet? She rode home on my lap, but I didn’t get to see her after that. And how are you? What did they do to you?”

Ro let himself chuckle quietly during Declan’s monologue. He’d learned that it was best to just let him talk and then wait for a pause.

“I’m fine. There were two men and they shot me with something that kept me from shifting and knocked me out. I have some scrapes and bruises, but I’m fine otherwise.”

“Ohhh… that must have been terrifying.”

“It was.” Declan would probably be intrigued by the details, but it still felt a little too fresh to share. “By the time I woke up, everyone was safe, and May was back home. I’m going to see her today.”

“Oh, good. I’m so glad. Do you think I can see her soon? And you? I want to see both of you.”

“Are you coming to the celebration tomorrow?”

“Oh, definitely. I want to make Geir dance with me.”

“If anyone can do it, you can.”

Declan giggled. “I know! It’s like my superpower.”

That might be truer than Declan knew.

“So…” Declan drawled, teasingly. “What are you making for your man?”

“He’s not my man,” Rohahen grumbled, though it was more of a rote refrain at this point. Declan said it so often that he usually ignored it. Though he often wondered if it might be possible.

“Mm-hmmm, and what are you making him?”