Cowboy opened the back door for me. “Come on. Let’s get your snake in a box.”
“I’m a bear, actually.”
“I’ll say you are.” His eyes lingered on my hairy chest, trailing down my body again. Was… was the cowboy cop flirting with me? Wyatt growled and bared his teeth at the cop.
I squeezed his fur reassuringly. “I’m all yours, fluffy,” I murmured as I set him on the seat.
This had been, by far, the strangest night of my life.
Wyatt rested the side of his head on my leg as I climbed in. He whimpered as he tried to curl into a more comfortable position, and I wrapped one arm protectively around his chest, resting my hand on the soft spot between his front legs.
It had been the strangest night, perhaps. But certainly not the worst. I rubbed the silky fur between my fingers. Not the worst by far.
7
Wyatt
Back at The Haven Center, chaos waited for us. Jordan held me in his arms once again, and Chance was the first to run up.
“Is he okay?”
“An injured paw and a little trouble shifting back. But he’s—”
“Why didn’t you wait for us?” a sandy-haired man that smelled like a deer asked.
“It’s a good thing he didn’t.” That came from an older man, his dark hair sprinkled with silver and his scent overwhelmingly cat. “Even with my nose, I lost him in the downpour. It’s impossible to track through a river of mud.”
I buried my face in Jordan’s chest, my ears pressing back against my head. Too much noise. Too many questions.
“Thank you for bringing them back, officers.” Yet another new voice. “We appreciate your service.”
“All in the line of duty, sir,” said the cop who’d been hitting on Jordan. I didn’t like him. The other one had been nice, with his crazy story about snakes. This one… he was too forward. Too… too…
I wasn’t sure what, but too much of whatever that was.
He proved it when he came to me and Jordan. I heard his cocky swagger and lifted my head to glare at him.
He waved a folded piece of paper in the air. “Call me sometime, snakebear.” He slid the paper between my body and Jordan’s chest. I snapped at him, coming within a whisker’s length of locking onto his arm.
“That one’s a little wild, isn’t he?”
Jordan turned away from the cop. “He’s had a rough night.”
“I like feisty. Maybe you should both call me.”
I growled at the idea of the little human coming anywhere near me or Jordan ever again, but he was gone minutes later.
Chance bounced back to us with arms full of clothing. “We grabbed your clothes, but they were soaked. I got Craig to get some from your room, Wyatt. And I ransacked your locker for spares, Jordan.”
Jordan bent to murmur in my ear. “You think you can shift now, Wyatt?”
I tried. I really tried. But even though my anxiety had faded, I still couldn’t grasp my sense of my human form and pull it forward.
“Don’t worry, fluffy. Let me get dressed, and I’ll take care of you.”
He set me gently on the ground and Chance hovered close, though he didn’t make an effort to touch me. “Don’t you worry, Wyatt. It’s normal to have trouble shifting after high emotions. Has this happened to you before?”
I nodded, darting a glance behind me to watch Jordan change. As he bent to pull his pants on, I got a full view of his backside. My tongue fell out of my mouth. I wanted to lick his tight, round ass, and I didn’t know what to do with that thought. I glanced away, staring at the dips and pores in the cement under me. I’d never, ever wanted to lick a man before. Well… maybe way before. Back in Ukraine. Before everything. But I’d been young and barely had a concept of what sex was, only that I thought I’d like it.
And then I hadn’t had a choice. Sex hadn’t been what I’d imagined as a young teen. It hadn’t been joyful and fun and pleasurable. It had been painful and controlling, and I’d been powerless.
So how was I supposed to feel about wanting to lick a man’s ass? Jordan’s ass.
Chance’s fingers twitched on the ground between us. He seemed like a tactile guy. It was probably killing him not to give me a comforting hug. “We need to get you back to your house, Wyatt. Do you mind if someone picks you up? We’ll put you in the back of the golf cart. As little touching as possible, I promise.”
“I can carry him.” Jordan was fully dressed now, muscles straining the ability of his shirt to cover them. Clearly, the shirt had been forgotten in his locker for a while, from a time when he was smaller.
I thumped my tail in agreement. I liked Chance, but he still smelled too alpha for me to feel comfortable.
Jordan was still an alpha… he was all alpha. But he was home. He was mine. And he said I was his mate… but we barely knew each other. I’d heard stories of true mates as a child, but that was all fairy tales. If fairy tales could be true, though, I suspected they’d feel like what I felt right now.
Jordan scooped me up easily. Rather than laying me in the back seat of the golf cart by myself, he sat first, settling me comfortably half on his lap.
Exhaustion settled on me. All I wanted was to be home, in my nice bed, with Jordan as my pillow.
It was a sign of my sleepiness that such a thought didn’t startle me.
“I’ll carry him in,” Jordan insisted. He lifted me and stood beside the cart.
Chance grimaced. “But protocol says…”
“Let the boy carry him in,” said a shorter, older man, an omega, judging by his soft scent. I hadn’t noticed him before, but I’d heard his voice thanking the cops. “Wyatt’s clearly comfortable with him. And do you think I can lift him as easily? Go ahead and warn Craig and Hunter before we come in.”
What would Craig and Hunter think of my nighttime adventure? I curled my tail. Craig would probably think it was a good thing he’d left early. If we’d gone together, he would have been the one chasing after me, not Jordan. Maybe. It was hard to imagine Craig chasing anyone or anything. Either way, he would have been stuck dealing with my disappearance.
“I’m Justin, by the way,” the older omega said with a soft, warming smile. It reminded me of Chance’s gentleness, but with a little less bounce behind it. “Justin Perkins. It’s nice to meet you, Wyatt.”
How was I supposed to greet him in wolf form? Whining, I shook my tail.
Justin laughed. “Don’t worry about the awkwardness, son. In my experience, it’s best to accept situations as they are and walk right through them. Or charge right through them, if you’re my mate. But he’s more of a ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ kind of guy. I prefer the calmer approach, especially around here.”
“Come on in!” Chance called from the townhouse porch.
Justin pulled himself from the cart. “Come on, son. Let’s get you settled. You’ve had a big night.”
Craig’s glare was on full blast as we entered the dining area. Arms crossed. Headphones around his neck.
Crap. I’d really pissed him off, hadn’t I?