Page 122 of Red

“Have they left?”

“Yes. The house is officially empty—except Jocko, but I think we’re stuck with him.”

“I guess that’s okay,” I say and laugh. “Are you having everyone move back in for the hunt?”

He shakes his head and moves out of the shower. “No, we can meet out where we plan to look.”

“Oh, good.” I smile.

“They’ll still be here for meals, though.” There’s hesitation in his voice. I did tell him I was overwhelmed by everyone.

“Why do you feed everyone?”

“Long story.”

I wait.

“Before I became me, the towering, muscular, jaw-dropping—”

I grab the hosed showerhead and spray him. He leaps back from the shower, wiping his face.

“Mate,” he growls.

“Tell the story. I know how you look,” I say.

“You’ve never said anything about how I look.”

“Stark, I think your wolf form is breathtaking. I couldn’t get it out of my thoughts the first time I saw you on the road. Your regular body . . . that I like in a very different way.” I wink.

He leans back into the shower, just enough that his thick hand can squeeze my ass.

“Now that you feel complimented, tell me the story.”

Stark walks away behind the shower wall. “Back then, things looked different. My mom passed before I turned. It was only me and my father; he struggled with the mate loss.” I couldn’t handle that, and I refuse to survive that. “When I turned sixteen and still hadn’t turned, he thought he could beat it out of me. I was weak and small from a lack of food. He didn’t cook or buy groceries, and at school, I kept to myself. No one offered to help or feed me, despite how skeleton-thin my arms and body were. After a year, he ended up leaving me with Graden and going back to his original pack.” He pauses, and I turn the water off. “Everyone should be able to have a home-cooked meal if they want one.”

He’s blocked me out of his mind, I know it.

I grab one of the small towels from the hook and twist my hair up before stepping out of the shower. Another goes around me, and I open my arms to hug him.

“So, we will feed them,” I say. I could learn to cook well for him.

He hugs my wet body back and pulls my chin up to meet his lips. I have had no energy to convince him to have sex.

I kiss him deep and tug at his damp shirt. “How long are you going to make me wait?” I ask.

“When I figure out a way not to hurt you. I found a few books.”

“On sex?” I raise my eyebrows into my toweled forehead.

“On mates having sex. There’s nothing on a werewolf mated to a . . .” He looks down at me. “I don’t know what to call you.”

“Yours,” I say.

He leans in and kisses me again.

Hours later, after the quietest dinner we’ve had—plus Jocko—Stark is under the sheets, and I turn to hit the light. I pull off my hooded sweatshirt and toss it to the end of the bed. It’s my other solution to the hat—so he doesn’t ask more questions. He’s leaving early for the hunt.

Part of it is sort of funny to me. I am right here and they’re looking everywhere else.