Page 41 of Fake It ’Til You Mate It

A small grin turns his rugged face from handsome to damn near irresistible. “I’m an Alpha. I’m not afraid of anything.”

I don’t know what it was that he said, or how Gus even understood him enough to be offended, but my little buddy suddenly launches himself at Max. You’d think an Alpha would be able to stop him in time. Nope. Suddenly, Gus is sinking his teeth into the first knuckle on the pointer finger on Max’s left hand.

I jump up from my seat, fork clattering against my plate. “Gus!”

“I stand corrected,” Max says, chuckling softly as he gently disengages Gus’s jaw from around his finger. It’s still attached, thank goodness, even if he’s bleeding. “Opossums c can be very terrifying. Thank you for reminding me that, Gus.”

Gus chitters, then scampers back to his earlier position—and Max lets him.

I lose a little more of my heart to Max Lobo then and there.

Some predators would react on instinct. A prey animal challenging them? Attacking them? Biting them? They would’ve picked Gus up, shook him a couple of times, and that would be the end of my beloved sidekick. He already gave Gus a pass in the den. This might be taking it too far.

But Max… his knuckle surprisingly still bleeding as Gus releases him, he snuck a piece of carrot off his plate, giving it to the opossum.

And I have to admit that I don’t have that much more left to give before the curious sheriff has it all.

Hours later, I’m lying in my borrowed bed, in the middle of a dream that involves Max, me, and a whole lot of chocolate chip cookie dough.

“Oh, Max...” I mumble. In my dreams I don’t have to pretend that I’m not addicted to him. “You taste so good…”

Something touches my face.

I swipe at it, still half asleep. I don’t want to leave my dream.

There it is again. Chilly and damp and⁠—

I slap my cheek, turning away, hoping that I can cling to sleep.

Nope. Something tickles me now and, yup, that’s it for me.

I open my eyes and look straight into a beady pair and a twitching pink nose. The whiskers on the left side of his snout brushing up against my cheek, stealing the last of my dream away.

Not Max.

Gus.

I jerk back, landing hard on the mattress. So hard, in fact, that I sent my poor sidekick flying. He goes flying, a few inches into the air, landing on his side, all four legs kicking out as he tries to right himself.

“Gus? Oh my goodness, Gus. You know better than to get so close to my face when I’m sleeping.”

I instinctively trust Gus. My inner opossum would never see him as a threat. If he spooks me while I’m fast asleep, I won’t wake up and immediately faint. I’ll react instead, which is exactly what happened.

I reach for my bewildered opossum. He clicks his teeth together, dashing away from me.

Frowning, I murmur his name.

He goes to the foot of the bed where he rears back on his hind legs, sitting up. His tail curls around his back paws. Chittering wildly, he lifts one of his right paws, undeniably gesturing at the window.

My head turns, searching for what he wants to show me—and I freeze.

Someone is looking at me. It’s a silhouette against the glass, but the fierce, glowing gold eyes tell me that it’s a wolf shifter in his skin peering at me while I slept.

I scream. As loud as I possibly can, to wake up the nearby pack, to scare off the peeping tom, I scream.

Later, I’ll wonder why that was my reaction. Why, when faced with a pair of wolfish eyes staring through the glass at me, I didn’t immediately keel over like I always used to. That’s been what I do my whole life. Not tonight. As though my inner beast knew that we had a predator to protect us while we stay conscious, I scream—and barely ten seconds later, the door swings in as Max storms through it.

He went to bed in a pair of sleep pants. I get my first look at his sculpted chest, the way sleep mussed his soft hair, and how there’s a slight crease in his cheek from a wrinkle in his pillowcase.