Page 43 of Trees Take the Long View

"Really? Even Tyler?" I put a little strut into my walk as I moved towards him, letting him see just what he had in me. Not a twink—a big, tough, handsome guy. Gorgeous, he'd said. Yes. That, too.

"Tyler who?"

He reached for me, eyes bright with lust and love. It was amazing how brightly his eyes seemed to shine. "That's right. Come here." He slid his arms around me, and sighed like he was coming home.

He was right; it was a very nice bed.

We made full use of it.

#

I was up first. It was before dawn, but the need to be up and around filled me, that itchy-feet feeling of needing to explore, the urge to shift and run in the woods and possibly howl a little, exuberantly alive, calling out to the world about my good fortune.

I had a mate, and I loved him, and he was mine. And, though he sometimes doubted it, we were the same: we needed to be on the move.

This early, however, he was still sleeping like he'd never wake up. I figured he needed it, from all the strain he'd been under lately. Still, I was awake, and there was no going back to sleep, or waking him up when he needed more, so I took a quick shower and pulled on clean shorts and a t-shirt, then headed out to the kitchen, hoping I could find something to eat without disturbing anyone or having any awkward introductions. I was starving.

If it was a kind of Grand Central Station, though, there was almost certain to be someone else up, even at four a.m. And indeed, there was. A man stood at the sink, drinking coffee and staring out a huge window at the darkness. He was brown-skinned, barefoot, and barely tall enough to see out the window. He smelled older than me but from the back looked younger, slim and elegant in his silken robe, the curves of his neck and ankles slim in a way you didn't expect except from youth.

He heard my steps and turned, and I saw the signs of graying at his temples, the lines on his face. He smiled when he saw me, and it turned his elegance into beauty. He set down his mug carefully. "Well. If it isn't Dean's mate. How do you do?" He offered me his hand seriously.

"Very well, sir." He smelled in charge, and I'd heard about him from Dean, who wanted me to be prepared to meet his tough but fair boss, Sahil Singh. "I hope we haven't inconvenienced you, Commissioner."

"Not at all. You'll be hungry. Let's talk while you eat."

I was a little concerned by what he'd want to talk to me about, but the word "eat" worked its magic.

It was hard to think of him as a scary boss or imposing figure when he was shoulder to shoulder with me, rooting around in a gigantic fridge for something good to have for breakfast.

We settled on cold rice pudding, freshly made waffles, and fuzzy peaches. It was a delicious way to start the day.

And a companionable one. Sahil was mildly curious about me and asked a few questions. He didn't second-guess our decision to become mates, or say anything doubtful about our future together, which I appreciated. My parents had been a bit concerned when I made the call to tell them. They said they would hold off judgment till they actually met my mate (hopefully soon, by the way), but they'd sounded worried.

Sahil merely took it for granted that we would be together. Mostly he just wanted to get to know a bit more about me. I wondered if he was technically my boss, if I was a consultant—but this really wasn't that sort of meeting. We were just having breakfast together. And when I asked him questions, he answered them just as easily.

I got to know a little more about the organization from him and that yes, there were currently twenty-one guests in the place, counting myself and Dean, and that wasn't uncommon. "A lot of people come through here, either for work, to rest, or for some sort of help."

He was just starting to cook us another round of waffles when my mate appeared, yawning and scratching at his side. He squinted at me, his hair sticking up oddly. "Alec? You okay?"

"Yep, just hungry. We're having an early breakfast."

"Care to join us?" asked Sahil. He turned to give Dean a smile. "There's enough, or will be when I finish these."

Dean woke up in a hurry when he realized his boss was cooking me breakfast. He cast me an incredulous, wide-eyed stare, and then sat down in a hurry. "Um, maybe I should put a shirt on."

Sahil waved the worry away. "We can be informal, this once. It is, after all, not yet dawn."

"Yes. Um. Thank you," said Dean, looking like he really wished he could go and get a shirt. "Is Mr. Ralstead here?"

"He should return today," said Sahil, studying the waffle pan very carefully and not looking at us. "He's had quite a bit of travel to do lately. For work." His tone was very steady, and there wasn't one exact thing I could pinpoint to prove it, but I was aware at a very deep level that every atom of his being wanted his mate to hurry up and get home.

Dean cast me an agonized look as if saying,See what travel can do? I don't want to make you feel that way.It was a lot to squeeze into a single look, but I knew him pretty well by now; he was an easy read, on this topic at least.

I reached over and squeezed his bare arm to offer some reassurance. Not just to feel up his muscles. Honest.

"I'm sure he's safe," said Dean awkwardly.

"One would certainly hope he's learned to be that by now." Sahil turned and gave us a vague smile, and with a visible effort said, "Let's talk about the both of you instead. Let me hear how things are going—informally. Your reports are excellent, Quick, but I'd love to hear a more personal take sometimes."