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“Sorry. I don’t mean to run on.”

“I said it’s all right. Can we try to go inside now?” Fen asked. “I’ll tell you all about it, but I’m not ready to share with the whole village.”

“Of course. I’ll go in and leave the door open. You come when you’re comfortable.”

“Thank you.” He sat there for a few more minutes, feeling like a newborn foal. Goddess, he needed to get up off his ass and go see Rory’s house.

He could hear Rory in the house, turning on some music, moving around, and they were normal, easy sounds.

They blended in with the noises that the pups made as they played, the barely audible chatting as the pack went about their business and the birdsong that floated through the air.

He felt himself begin to relax, to breathe into a chest that didn’t feel as tight as it had a few moments ago.

Then he smelled it.

Bread.

He could smell bread and cheese and butter. Rory was making sandwiches. He inhaled deep. Oh, yeah. Rory was making grilled cheese sandwiches.

He loved grilled cheese sandwiches.

Fen made himself move, one foot in front of the other. It wasn’t so hard now to walk across the planks of the porch and peek into the door.

The cabin was open, light and airy, windows letting the sunlight pour in. What he saw was simple but cozy, warm, all wood and well used furniture.

There were pillows and blankets on the sofa, and piles of rugs for pups, for him, for them.

It was a pretty house. And it felt—not okay, not easy—but doable.

Doable to walk into the great big open space and head toward the pass-through of the little kitchen, where Rory was cooking and singing with the radio. Barstools sat at the pass-through, ready to perch on, right there. Not to mention a big glass of milk waited for him.

“Hey, you made it in. Welcome.” That was the warmest smile and so pleased. “I was feeling peaked, so I thought I’d make some sandwiches. I made enough for you. I hope that’s all right.”

“That’s perfect. I love cheese sandwiches.” He breathed deep, the food smells making his belly snarl. He chuckled, and so did Rory. “Sorry.”

“Nope. No apologies. I’m tickled.” Rory winked at him. “That means this doesn’t smell like hell.”

“Nope. It smells amazing. Thank you for letting me come into your home, Rory.” He needed to get that formality out of the way. It was old-school, but it was how he was raised. As an alpha wolf rising in the pack, he’d never taken his status for granted. Ever.

“Of course, you’re welcome here. When you’re ready, I’ll give you the tour. It’s pretty simple, but I really like it. I think it’s nice. Cozy, lots of light. You know, the good things?” Rory shrugged, puttering around the little kitchen with ease. It was lovely to see.

“There are lots of good places to curl up and sleep, watch the moon.” That was one of Fen’s favorite pastimes, curling up in a blanket and watching their Mother Moon shine. It was a blessing.

Rory nodded. “Exactly. That’s why it was designed this way, so that I can stargaze. You can have your sandwich, and then I’ll—Well, I’m sure you’re tired, and I have a little guest bedroom. I didn’t—I thought you’d be comfortable there.”I hoped you could come and be in my bed. I would curl up with you and rest. Hold you. I just don’t want you to be scared.

Such a sweet mate, to be worried about him, but he wasn’t scared. Not of holding Rory.

Perhaps about losing his mate now that he’d found one, sure, but never of holding his Rory. “I would gladly go to your bed with you and save the other room for guests.”

He wanted to be more than a guest.

Rory smiled at him, and the expression just transformed the beautiful face into something that was sheer happiness.

Fen decided then and there to do everything he could to keep that expression on his mate’s face as many times as possible.

“Well, good. My bed’s plenty big enough for the two of us, and I have lots and lots of fuzzy comforters and big pillows. It’s like a little nest.”

And Rory thought he wasn’t a wolf. There was no way.