Page 35

Chapter 34

W hat on earth… Gordon was wide awake. It was morning, the dark curtains in front of the window of Adler’s bedroom not enough to hide it. Being this awake in the morning is wrong, especially after what we did last night. After how often we did it last night. What was it, four times? More? I lost count. He glanced at Adler. Fucking werewolf stamina.

Adler seemed to be still out of it. They’d slept facing each other, Adler holding Gordon close, and Gordon with his nose buried against a broad, scrumptious werewolf chest. All of it was novel. Novel, and sort of…nice.

“Hey,” Gordon said and moved.

A low rumbling noise echoed through the werewolf chest in front of him.

“Adler?” Gordon tried once more.

Adler moved. “Sweetheart. Anything you need?”

Gordon looked around the minimalist bedroom with the large wardrobe and chest of drawers, at the milky morning light bubbling in from behind those curtains, at Adler’s considerable bed head.

“Just a shower. And work? Well, it’s too early for work, but they’ll want a statement for their records from me.”

“The bureaucratic harpies of the Forum?” Adler asked, nuzzling Gordon’s hair.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Have paperwork too. Could help you shower though?”

Gordon chuckled. Yes, the two of them were acting as if the second coming of puberty had possessed them wholly, but Gordon couldn’t bring himself to be embarrassed about it, he just couldn’t.

Somewhere between the touching—they hadn’t even gotten out of bed yet, let alone made their way to the shower—Gordon looked at the werewolf above him, getting ready to descend, and wondered if he’d be there from now on. If he’d be someone Gordon would be coming home to. His chest swelled. I fucking hope that’s how this goes.

“What is this?” Gordon asked.

It had taken them an hour to get into the bathroom, and they’d steamed it up with a shower at least as long. Gordon, wrapped in what Adler proclaimed was the biggest and softest towel I own , had wiped the condensation off the mirror and was staring at his shoulder in mild disbelief.

Adler smiled behind him. “I bit you.”

“Yeah, last night.” Gordon ran his fingers over the bite mark that had gone pale, almost silvery. It wasn’t too noticeable against his already pale skin, but by now it should have healed. “This looks wrong. Are you…this isn’t right. Do you have some sort of infection maybe?”

Adler had come closer. He had a much smaller towel, and it was wrapped just around his waist, leaving his shoulders and chest bare and right there to be admired.

“Did I taste sick to you? And I wouldn’t have let you take my blood if I were, sweetheart.” He ran his fingers over the marks, smiling just like Kawaii Demon Hunter did whenever he saw something too cute to kill. “This looks right.”

Gordon spun. “This doesn’t look right! Look at this! Look.” He pointed. “I should have healed by now.”

Adler beamed. “Gordon, sweetheart. Have you ever seen a real mate bite? They turn silverish, just like this. It’s not very noticeable on you but—”

Mate bite?? MATE BITE!?

“Excuse me?” Gordon’s mind was reeling trying to remember the textbook cases he’d seen, not that there were all that many. Mating bites were an older tradition, and even then, not all were the type of “true” mate bite Adler was talking about.

This can’t be right. That only happens between werewolves.

“I…I need to call someone,” Gordon said.

“Sweetheart—”

“I need to…” Get out of here. But no. I made a different decision. Close your eyes, breathe.

Adler was right there, one hand lightly resting on Gordon’s shoulder, not saying a word, not forcing anything. Just there. Waiting. Calm and composed and making that look easy.

“This cannot be right,” Gordon said after several minutes of silence, the tension having drained out of him to some degree.

Adler shrugged. “I never heard of it either. But it looks right. You don’t have to be scared, Gordon. I’ll take care of you. That’s all this means, you know.”

“It’s not that. Maybe. Or it is?”

A shuddering breath ran out of Gordon, and when he looked up, he saw Adler’s face crumble.

“Gordon, please don’t run. Please.”

But I want to. I want to run.

Gordon swallowed. “Okay. I won’t. Can we…I want to talk to Maxim.” He pointed at the bite mark on his shoulder. “I want to ask about this. I mean, you don’t have to come. I just—”

“I’m coming with you. Gordon?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

“What for?”

Adler, slowly and ever so carefully, closed his arms around Gordon, and something deep inside Gordon’s chest settled with the contact.

“Thanks for not running.”