Page 17 of Trees Take the Long View

If he just gave us a chance, he'd see we might be perfect for each other.

Of course I knew it wasn't that simple for him. He didn't have the "mate for life after you've barely met someone" instinct that I did. He had it harder; he had to use his brain to figure it out.

I didn't envy him that task—and I hoped his brain would decide I measured up, worth the risk and taking a chance, because I was pretty sure the rest of him wanted to take a leap and try. Trust me, sleep with me, share his life with me.

Time would tell how it all worked out. All I knew was, for the first time in months, I felt truly happy to be alive—and excited about the future. And he looked more beautiful to me every time I saw him.

#

The first thing we did was rent me a vehicle. He insisted upon it. "You can't be reliant on me for transportation when I'm busy all day—and it would be shitty to leave you without a way to get around."

Since we'd landed in an area that seemed to have no public transportation at all, and nothing within reasonable walking distance of each other, I didn't fight him on that too hard.

That sorted out, he told me a little bit about the case. I listened in some surprise.

"An owl?" I said.

"There are owl shifters."

"I know that." What I hadn't known was that any of them associated with the shifters and partners organization. "I thought they kept themselves to themselves."

"Like wolves?" he said ironically.

It was a good point. That used to be a rule of thumb about all sorts of shifters; they didn't interact with non-shifters, if they could avoid it, and they certainly never publicly identified themselves. It simply wasn't safe. There was a lot of fear and hysteria, which brought a hell of a lot of dangers out for shifters. Sometimes, there still was.

Wolf shifters perhaps got the brunt of it, but I don't think any sort of shifter was exactly welcomed into society (at least, Western society) until recently. Some people still don't take to it easily, and there are plenty of shifters who choose to remember the lessons of the past and not interact. My father was really worried when I said I'd be working with the police, for instance. He didn't try to forbid me—figured I was old enough to know my own mind—but in my case, he'd been right. I'd have been better off staying away.

"Do they work with cops?"

He looked uncomfortable. "I believe most worked with the military until recently. Reconnaissance missions."

"Oh! Undercover owls, is that it?"

He narrowed his eyes at me. "It's really not that hilarious. Reconnaissance is a risky job for anyone—even an owl."

I raised my hands and made an exaggerated apology face. "Pardon me."

"Sorry." He touched my shoulder. "It's not you. It's—the mission, really. I'm supposed to speak up for an owl who's being denied his military benefits because when he started work, they weren't officially hiring shifters. He got injured pretty badly, and shouldn't have to fight for his benefits. It's indecent."

"Yeah, that is," I agreed. "So what's my part in all of this? Just stay out of your way while you're working—and try to seduce you in your downtime?"

He gave me another look—heavy-lidded in a somewhat different way. "You wouldn't have to try very hard."

"We should have a little talk about that." I poked him lightly on the chest.

He gripped my shoulder and gave me an intense look. "We will. Eventually."

For a moment, I couldn't think of anything to say. I got the feeling a lot of complicated and deep feelings were going on behind those eyes of his, but I certainly couldn't read them all, either from the look or the smell of him.

He released my shoulder. "Ahem. Well. We'll get to that." He looked away, as if embarrassed to have showed me so much—how much he cared, perhaps.

"I get it. The mission comes first," I told him, trying to keep things cool and relaxed between us. Even though undercurrents thrummed loudly, if he wasn't ready to talk, well, he just wasn't.

"If he's not comfortable meeting you, you'll have to find something to do with yourself while I'm working with him."

"I'm sure I can amuse myself somehow." I nudged him gently. "But hey. Tell me if there's anything I can do to help, okay?"

"Of course I will." The warmth in his voice touched me. Whatever ultimately happened, he did trust me—and our bond was growing under the surface, beneath the need for words. We hadn't known one another for long, but it already felt like ages. I trusted him with my life—and sometimes, I wondered if he was starting the feel the same.