Page 11 of Beware of Hodags
He exhales a relieved breath, his eyes locked to mine. “It’s not like I’ve even had opportunity. But if I ever tried to eat a dog—”
“OH my gosh.” I cover my ears with my hands.
“Hear me out!” His eyes are wide and sincere. “I’d only have one. They’re really addictive and eating too many can give you gout!”
Gout is stopping him from inhaling a litter of puppies? Gout???
“Okay, okay—forget I said that. Please?” He looks tortured as he casts about for what he can say to fix this. “You said you had something to tell me.”
Slowly lowering my hands, I look him dead in the eye. “I turn into something too. ”
Surprise colors his expression. “You’re a shifter?”
“Yeah.” My lips twist. “But I’ll tell you about me some other time.”
He looks intrigued. In fact, his handsome face lights up. His shoulders pull back and his head comes up. “Tell me now. What do you change into?”
I shake my head. “I need to wait.”
He winces for me. “Are you some kind of bug?”
I’d just started to turn away again. His ridiculous question halts me. “No, I’m—Why would you think that I’m a bug?”
Now he looks curious. “Are you a mouse?”
I stare at him, unable to decide if I feel offended or amused. “Really? A mouse?”
He raises his hands. “Hey, I’m just trying to guess what kinds of things you’d hesitate to tell me about.”
Expelling a sad sigh, I look him in the eye. “Shepard, I’m not going to tell you what I change into because I don’t know you well enough to feel safe with you.”
His eyes go wide. His brows pinch with concern.
His mouth falls open. All of these little micro movements happen in a millisecond but I see them.
I also see the hurt that flashes through his eyes before, just as quickly, he looks away.
After a moment of staring at the tree line, he says softly, “You know that as my mate, you can trust me.”
“Trust is earned,” I murmur, hugging myself.
He inhales slow and deep, and releases it the same way. “I’d like you to tell me what just happened. What I did or said to make you put your guard up. We were doing great, and then…”
My shoulders rise and fall. My mouth curves down sadly. “And then I realized that even with a fated connection, we have some serious issues to tackle.”
He looks back at me and blinks. “Like every couple, you mean? ”
My eyebrows hike. “Telling me that you haven’t eaten puppies because you can’t find any is not the average challenge a partner comes to the table with, Shepard,” I inform him.
“I didn’t say anything about puppies,” he tries to defend as he turns to face me again, having the audacity to sound a little offended that I’ve lobbed this accusation at him.
I blow out a breath and glance away. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”
Shepard scrubs a hand up the back of his neck.
His nostrils flare. Slowly, padding on bare feet, he approaches me and carefully, he leans in.
“We don’t have to figure it all out tonight.
We both know down in our bones that I’m not going anywhere, you’re not going anywhere—we will work out everything that comes up. Alright?”
I nod, appreciating this reassurance.
Watching me for a beat, he says, “Me showing you that you’re safe with me begins right now.
I’m not going to say goodbye to you so don’t expect me to,” he asserts, his eyes solidly on mine.
“But I am going to give you the night to recoup. Rest up,” he says and the words sound almost like a warning.
But the kiss he places on my forehead is gentle and sweet.
No spark happens this time. No butterflies either.
Just a quiet hum as his lips make contact with my skin, and then he’s gone.
Not gone gone, but he steps back from me, making something in my chest twist painfully. My teeth clamp together from the intensity of it. This is the bond. My skin starts to buzz. And against all logic, my nipples tighten.
I’m not unprepared for my body’s reaction.
I’ve seen enough shifter couples at odds—and the quick makeups that follow—to know what’s happening to me.
It’s the bond’s way of keeping shifter couples together.
Kind of like it’s saying are you two fighting?
Not in accord? Try a bonding activity instead.
Judging by his heating stare, Shepard is feeling pulled to try a bonding activity too .
Instead of making a move to act on it, he takes another step back. Something inside me makes a sad whine. He says, “I’ll be here bright and early tomorrow to pick you up.”
I manage a nod.
He herds me to the cabin door, punches in the code before I can lift my hand to do it, and he presses me inside, making me lock up so he knows I’m safe. Then he leaves.
I watch him through the sliding glass window.
As he slowly makes his way down the drive, something in my chest pulses; again, it’s the bond.
If I were a betting woman, I’d lay down good money on the odds that Shepard is rubbing his chest just like I’ve started to.
Mated pairs feel pain when they’re at odds, and discomfort when they’re out of step.
When he’s out of sight, I get a particularly sharp stab in my heart.
“Well, this sucks,” I tell the empty cabin.
Dully I glance around, needing a distraction.
What I sort of want to do is call my mom and get her advice.
But since I’d have to tell her that I not only went to Rhinelander where we’re not supposed to go—I’ve secured a place to live, got a job here, and I just found my mate, who is a lifetime resident with roots in this forbidden town, descended from generations of Rhinelanderarians who are not-so-mythical fearsome shifters…
I don’t make the call.
I find myself in the kitchen, where I trudge back and forth, searching for a diversion. There are single serving packets of ketchup in the fridge and a partial box of baking soda. Resigned, I shut the fridge and swipe the only thing sitting out on the counter.
It’s the squeaky cheese.
Mirk made me swear that I wouldn’t put it in the refrigerator until after I’d eaten some fresh. That was the word he used. Fresh.
The slippery, rubbery curds squeak like baby mice against my teeth as I chew them. It’s weird. I should want to spit them out.
But Mirk was right. They’re delicious. And when I realize I’ve polished off the entire bag, I find myself wishing I had more.