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“Come here,” Dralle made clicking noises with his tongue and offered out a torn-off piece of bread to Billy. I expected my dog to run, yet instead, he happily trotted over to Dralle. “That’s a good boy,” he cooed. I frowned, surprised my dog would warm up to someone so quickly.

“Did you say something to that asshole the other day?” It came to mind again, and I had to ask before I forgot. Billy sat down patiently and waited to see what treats we’d slip him next.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.” He was obviously lying.

Handing him a cup of coffee, I glanced up at the garage cameras to ensure we were at a good angle. At least if he tried to kill me after breakfast, I’d have evidence, right? I almost laughed at the thought, more inclined to think about that than try to figure out why I was so comfortable sitting next to him.

Pouring some of a small glass container of syrup onto my French toast felt surreal. Thank god I closed the garage door; if my brothers saw this, they’d howl laughing at me. They took Sundays off, but I wouldn’t put it past them to want to stop in if they drove by and saw me sitting with a stranger.

Still lost in my thoughts, I took a bite of the French toast.

It was incredible.

“Wait, it’s so good,” I mumbled around the food while I was still chewing it. It was custardy and sweet but so rich and buttery at the same time. This was the best food I’d ever tried.

“That good?” He acted like he didn’t know. He just served me the most delicious breakfast I’d ever had.

“Yeah,” I admitted. Going for a second bite, I knew I should slow down and at least try to look demure, but that was never a strong suit of mine.

“Good,” he nodded.

I expected him to try to talk more, to attempt to flirt, but I was pleasantly surprised.

He ate with me in silence.

The coffee felt pitiful in contrast to the food, but its darkness made the sweet things taste even more precious. I lost track of how much I was eating and realized I hadn’t had a full meal like this with someone else besides my brothers in years.

“So, what type of shifter are you?” I asked as I finished what I could fit into my stomach.

He didn’t seem surprised. Usually, when I ask people facts I shouldn’t know, there’s at least some shock. Dralle responded as though I asked what the weather was like. “I’m a reptilian shifter,” he admitted.

A gator?

I tried to fit that into the image of the visions I’d have, and it could almost work, but not quite. The green suited it, though.

“I’m a wolf shifter.” I wasn’t sure why I was telling him that. Billy nudged against my hand, and I pet my needy dog. He could probably tell I was nervous.

Dralle nodded.

“I know.”

This felt strange but not surprising. Somehow, I expected Dralle to know.

His hand lifted to my face, and he brushed his thumb over my cheek. I froze, unsure of what to do but struggling with a bizarre mix of arousal and fear. “Whipped cream,” he explained. Pulling his hand back to his face, he licked his thumb. My clit throbbed expectantly, and my mind set off sirens of need and surprise I didn’t know what to do with.

“Heather,” he leaned closer.

I would have kissed him.

I must have been out of my goddamned mind, but if the alarm for the start of shift didn’t go off the moment that someone started banging on the door: I would have kissed him.

“I have to work.”

Instead of kissing this dangerous and hot stranger, I had to get to work.

“Don’t you ever take time off?”

“No, sorry.”

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