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Beryl unplugs his phone from their charger; the battery symbol disappears, leaving only a fragmented reflection of the sky. “Sorry I can’t charge it more.”

Avery waves a hand. “S’fine. Thank you for… getting me here.” He squints at them through the piercing morning sunbeams. “Why did you bother?”

Their eyes lock for a scant second before Beryl returns to watching the trees. “You’ve held onto your pride up ‘til now. I didn’t like seeing it crushed by some shifter bastards.”

A slow nod is the only response Avery can think to offer. Anything else would feel arrogant, maybe even insulting, comparing his refusal to crack with whatever compelled Beryl to submit to Celeste’s control.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Beryl says, before giving him a brisk nod. “Good luck. Hope your friend comes. …Friend?” they repeat after a pause.

Avery’s cheeks warm. “Uhm.”

“Gotcha.” What might be a genuine smile tugs at Beryl’s mouth, exposing a sharp canine. Their yellow eyes flash. “Have fun, I guess. And don’t try shifting out of those injuries. If you’re already healing this slow, that means your reserves are almost burned out.” That said, Beryl shoves their hands in their pockets and walks briskly into the forest. Avery is only able to track their steps for a handful of seconds before all trace of them disappears.

So Avery waits.

Once in a while, a car drives by, wheels crunching on the rough pavement, but Avery makes sure to stay huddled behind the guard rail, hopefully out of sight. He rests his forehead on his knees, hissing when the laceration on his back twinges.

Sascha will come. He hasn’t yet let Avery down, and even if he doesn’tusuallycheck his voicemail, the lack of response from Avery’s number should make the unknown call a necessary clue.

While Avery waits, exhaustion gnaws at his bones, slowly sipping his consciousness until he’s a drop away from passing out. Avery ignores how his body shakes, begging for rest, and focuses only on gripping his damaged phone so tightly, shards from the broken screen dig into his palm.

CHAPTER

ELEVEN

Sascha

“Alexander.”

The sound of his father’s voice has Sascha cringing against his bedroom door, regretting that he didn’t listen for anyone in the hallway before exiting. “Hey, Dad,” says Sascha, turning to regard Samuel Madison’s typical calm demeanor. “What’s up?”

“You were out all night, Alexander. The others had planned a bonfire.”

There is no bonfire his cousins could plan in this life or the next that could have persuaded Sascha to abandon Avery during his full moon shift. Sascha stayed a cougar all night, crouched on the opposite bank, watching through the low cave opening while Avery’s were-ursine form paced and grumbled. That was all it did. The creature wasn’t rabid, didn’t fight to escape or attack any animals that walked past the entrance. Every cautionary tale about werecreatures during their forced full moon transformations fell completely flat before Avery’s large, fur-covered feet.

“I was visiting a friend out of town,” Sascha explains,purposefully vague. The less information he gives his father to latch on to, the easier the conversation will go.

“I’d prefer if you’d keep your schedule open for gatherings with the pack,” Samuel says, voice mild enough to communicate his disapproval without bashing Sascha over the head with it. “You become distant at times.”

“Sometimes I need more space than others.” Sascha does his best to keep any defensiveness out of his tone, adding, “Even if I take some time to myself, pack is the most important part of my life.” It’s what his dad would want to hear, while his mother would have pushed him to be honest about the reason for his distance. Not that she’d approve of this instance.

Samuel seems pacified by the reassurance, as Sascha thought he’d be. He opens his mouth to respond, but Sascha’s phone buzzes in his pocket, blasting out the first few nonsensical lines of Lady Gaga’s ‘Bad Romance.’Rah, rah, rah-ah-ah?—

Sascha slides his phone out enough to glance at the number. Seeing one he doesn’t recognize has him refusing the call, cutting Gaga off in the middle of ‘want your bad romance.’

Shoving his phone back into his pocket, Sascha mumbles a quick, “Sorry.”

“Your cousins were asking after you,” Samuel says, giving Sascha another discerning look. “I suggested we go on a run tonight.”

It’s all Sascha can do not to groan and knock his head against the bedroom door.

Of all the things he wants to do tonight, shifting and running around with Garrett and Jakob isnotone of them. He had actually been on his way to the kitchen to get something to eat for lunch since he fell asleep as soon as he got home after dropping Avery off. Sprawling in his bed alone, Sascha had felt cold. Not just from the blasting air conditioning, but knowingAvery was stuck laboring after hours of restless pacing inside the cave sent an unpleasant chill down Sascha’s spine. All he could think of was how Avery should have been next to him, bare skin plastered close enough to make them both sweat.

They haven’t slept together in a bed since the night they met. Haven’t fucked properly, either, on a bed or otherwise. It’d be so much easier if Sascha could just introduce Avery to his dad, to his obnoxious cousins and the rest of the pack, then make all the pleasantries needed before dragging Avery to his too-empty bed to ravish him. If-fucking-only.

Samuel subtly suggesting Sascha prove the whole ‘pack is the most important part of my life’ thing is part of what makes him a great pack leader. Testing boundaries without setting off tempers, answering unspoken questions with careful observation. Sascha would go about things differently if he led a pack, but he thinks his way would be good, too.