“No, of course not.”
“Do you want to report it?”
“To who? Wildlife Control?”
“To whom,” Park murmured, automatically.
“I asked you first,” Cooper said, and flicked a little water toward Park’s chest. It felt nice and cool on his fingers, and he kept his hand submerged, letting it drift, bumping against Park’s thigh. “No, I don’t want to report it. It was nothing. I’m just telling you now so that when we sleep with all the windows open and I’m murdered in the night, my last words can be I told you so.”
Park grinned, closed his eyes and stretched lazily in the water. “Good ol’ Dayton. He died as he lived. A complete prick.”
Cooper took the opportunity to stare at Park’s body unobserved. His thick arms and firmly muscled torso and myriad of faded scars looked intimidating, dangerous. His sleepy face and soft cock looked oddly defenseless and vulnerable in the water. His hair standing up from the half-assed tap rinse and remaining suds looked...well, another thing entirely. There was something very silly about seeing a big, powerful man squeezed into a tub, head spotted in bubbles. And by silly Cooper meant punched-in-the-gut sexy.
But that was Park. The strongest, toughest softie he knew. Made up of these seeming contradictions that all worked together to make Cooper’s heart hammer in its cage, demanding to be let out to call a lawyer. It was unfair, unjust and uncalled for, how much Park made him love him.
Cooper pulled his hand up Park’s leg, to his calf, scratching through the hairs there, and Park sighed happily. He did not understand how this body could transform itself into the one that had cowered from him before. But then, he did not understand how some people’s bodies could grow entire other humans or why eye colors looked different depending on what color shirt the person was wearing or why a man like this looked to him as some kind of leader. Though at the rate that was going, Cooper would understand perfectly when Park changed his mind there.
“Have you ever been to North Carolina?” Park asked, startling Cooper out of his grim thoughts.
“What? No. You?”
“Too far south of our territory border.” Park stilled, as if realizing what he’d said, then shifted, grabbing a bottle off the tub’s edge, and the water sloshed.
“You’ve met the alpha of one of the directors, though? Paul Claymont?”
“Once. Years ago, when we were young. I was accompanying my uncle on a check-in trip.” Park’s voice was relaxed and supremely casual, but he was focused just a little too intently on pouring out a small amount of conditioner for Cooper to buy it. “Marcus often had me come with him, in case of trouble. There wasn’t any, that time.” He started working the conditioner into his hair a little too aggressively, pulling at the strands a little too hard.
Cooper stood up and repositioned himself sitting on the flat ledge of the tub near Park’s head. Gently, he pulled Park’s hands away. “May I?” he asked.
Park looked up at him, wide-eyed, and then gave a jerky nod.
Cooper ran his fingers soothingly through Park’s wet, soapy hair and felt him immediately relax into the touch. “If Claymont and Kreuger were both from northern packs around the same time, is it possible they knew each other? That Claymont recognized Kreuger? They could have had history.”
“I suppose it’s possible, though they weren’t from the same state. We’re not the largest community.” Park’s expression turned thoughtful. “From what I know, Becca runs an excellent pack. I wonder why Claymont decided to leave it.”
“People move,” Cooper said a little more sharply than he’d intended. “I thought wolves were free to leave packs when they wished.”
“Mmm,” Park said with less adamant agreement than Cooper was hoping for. “I mean, sure, we can—unless you’re in a rebel pack which is much more complicated—but it’s not a particularly pleasant experience. There’s usually a definite reason that makes the...bad feelings worth it.”
“So like ending any serious relationship, then,” Cooper said, trying not to let the creeping anxiety he felt slip into his voice. Apparently unsuccessfully, as he felt Park still beneath his hands.
“Not quite,” Park said eventually. “Though like a breakup, certainly some wolves feel more...trapped than others depending on the circumstances.”
Cooper’s heart was beating very fast and giving him a nauseating, light-headed buzz in his veins and throat. Trapped? He hated the way that sounded. Depending on what circumstances? What kind of bad feelings? But he could feel Park growing even more tense under his hands and changed the subject quickly. “All these rules,” he said, forcing a light tone. “Will it be a problem that I’m not a wolf?”
Park shook his head dismissively. “No, of course not.”
“Because I’ve been down that road before with you and it was...bumpy,” Cooper added, remembering the whole mess of meeting Park’s family.
Park twisted out of his grip a bit to meet his eyes. “I really am sorry about that. I failed you. Too caught up in my own bullshit.”
Cooper pulled him back in place, uncomfortable. He hadn’t meant to guilt-trip Park. Especially not after what had happened earlier. “It’s fine. It’s not like you didn’t have anything else going on at the time. Go back to telling me about how I’m going to be the most popular boy at camp and make so many new friends.”
“We might get some curious looks and overly personal questions, but it won’t be a problem,” Park said, relaxing under Cooper’s hands again. “My family is one of the oldest packs in North America with hardly any history of—” he cleared his throat “—ah, mating with humans. But it’s unreasonable and increasingly impossible to maintain as we die out. I’m sure Paul Claymont is far more...modern.”
Cooper made a face. On one hand, that sounded like some seriously messed up shit. On the other, humans who knew about wolves had a track record of treating them like garbage, intentionally or not. How exhausting, how painful, was it to partner with someone who could never possibly understand your daily experience? Who didn’t even know how to touch and comfort you when it mattered?
He winced. On days like this, he understood why wolves like Park’s grandmother worried about wolf-human relationships.
The conditioner was well worked in at this point, but he continued to massage Park’s head. Contrary to earlier, Park was pushing into Cooper’s hands and practically thrumming with pleasure at the touch. What made this touch so different to before?
Cooper used the lather to work Park’s hair up into two little ears, then sat back to get a good look at him. He couldn’t help grinning and kissed his fingertips. “My finest work.”