Page 7

Chapter Seven

Kingston

I ’d had enough.

Four days of infirmity.

Four days of crutches.

Four days of Ethan.

I was thrilled he’d found Tabitha’s keys. I would’ve changed all the locks she needed me to. I even would’ve given her a bulk discount. But if someone could find their keys, then I was always thrilled for them. Better that, honestly. Even though replacing locks netted me more money.

The way Ethan found the keys, though, was highly suspicious. His explanation of just happening by and finding a dog on the front yard mouthing the keys was…implausible. First, there hadn’t been any teeth marks. Whatever slobber there might’ve been was gone. And the promise he extracted from the women to never say anything? Made no sense. Unless he worried Bluebell might get in trouble. Well, damn dog did deserve to get in trouble. And the neighborhood needed to be warned.

Yet the women had promised, had paid me, and then manipulated me into accepting their dinner invitation next Friday night at their house.

With Ethan.

Obviously leaving him at home was impossible.

I eyed his closed bedroom as I quietly shut mine. So he’d think I was in there if he went to the bathroom.

Getting down the stairs as quietly as I could was a challenge, but I did my best. I had to get out of my fucking house. I loved the place, but I needed distance from Ethan.

That meant going for a run.

Silently—well, as silently as I could—I slipped out of the house and into the backyard.

The night air bit, but that invigorated me. I sat on a decorative bench I’d installed and removed my pajamas as well as the bandage. They’d be cold and damp to put back on, but I didn’t care.

When I was naked, I shifted.

Muscles stretched. Bones cracked as they transformed.

Pain sliced through me.

But I didn’t care.

In my animal form, human injuries didn’t matter. I wouldn’t be hobbled. I could run free.

As soon as I was fully shifted, I did one final stretch, and then I headed for my favorite oak tree. I scaled it easily and sat on a branch to get a lay of the land. This part of town had rats, squirrels, skunks, and racoons. The bears were across the bridge in North Vancouver and over in Burnaby and Coquitlam near the mountains. East Vancouver was flat with no discernible nature area. Parks, sure. But places for coyotes and bears to roam in peace? Nope.

I lumbered down to the fence and followed it to the front of my house.

After ensuring I was alone, I headed down the street toward MacLean Park. I loved the massive and abundant trees. I avoided the play areas because sometimes adults from the area hung around smoking cigarettes and pot. Loathing the smell—and not wanting to attract attention to myself—I avoided anywhere humans might congregate. Generally, though, the park was pretty quiet at night.

I chose a tree at random and scaled it easily.

Oh, this is the best feeling in the world. I’m free.

My human responsibilities often weighed on me, but when I was alone here, as a racoon, I could let all that go. I was lucky that I didn’t have to forage for food. More importantly, I didn’t have to go through garbage cans to find sustenance. I appreciated that. And I didn’t judge my fellow creatures who had to. I just hoped they didn’t make too much of a mess. We didn’t exactly have a good reputation in the city.

My nose twitched.

No. It can’t be.

The most marvelous scent enveloped me.

Heaven. I’d died and gone to heaven.

My father’s words came back to me. The scent of your fated mate will be your favorite scent in the world. You’ll know instantly. And, if you’re very lucky, they’ll recognize it as well.

I smelled vanilla sugar cookies.

Did the scent come from one of the homes?

No, that would be ridiculous. The houses are far away from here, and everyone has their windows shut because it’s nearly winter and, finally, it’s the middle of the fucking night.

Okay, so fated mate it was.

I descended the tree to get the lay of the land. It couldn’t be a racoon—I knew everyone in the neighborhood. Male or female? In human form, I leaned gay, but I’d been with the occasional woman. My parents had been straight and very happy with each other. Whoever this creature was, I’d make it work.

Then I spotted the most gorgeous squirrel I’d ever seen. Their red fur gleamed in the glow from the streetlamp. Their bushy tail was larger and fluffier than I’d ever seen.

I sniffed again.

Male.

Well, that was fine. I’ve found my fated mate! Here in my park! Hopefully that meant they lived nearby.

He turned, his nose twitched, and he headed my way.

The closer we got, the more aroused I became. I wasn’t inherently sexual. Sex was nice, but I didn’t require it to function—either as a human or a racoon.

His tail swished as he moved toward me.

Mere inches apart, we sniffed.

His dark-brown eyes gleamed in obvious delight. He pressed a claw to my nose.

I leaned into the touch.

He came closer and pressed his nose to my forehead. Then he turned and ran.

Game on .

He wasn’t running away from me.

No, we were playing a game of chase.

He easily scaled a maple tree.

I was hot on his heels.

When he leapt to the next tree, though, I lost my nerve. My inherently cautious nature as a human permeated my animal form as well. If I fell and broke something, I might not be able to shift back to human. Someone might come along and kill me.

I didn’t like that idea.

The squirrel cocked his head.

Then jumped back.

He landed on the branch below me and scrambled back down the tree. He scurried over to some bushes and disappeared.

In a heartbeat, I followed.

When I caught up with him, in a well-protected area, we stopped to gaze at each other.

He cocked his head.

I nodded.

We shifted.

My focus was entirely on how quickly I could retake my human form and then how quickly we could come together. That primal urge to take, to mark, and to conquer was foremost in my mind. We didn’t have condoms, but we didn’t need to worry about diseases since our shifter genes protected us from both human and animal communicable illnesses. Lube would be nice, but we’d figure something out. Nothing mattered except—

No. No. No. Oh God, no. Fucking hell.

A very naked Ethan sat before me on the damp earth, his grin as wide as I’d ever seen it. For a squirrel shifter, he had very little body hair. The red fuzz covered his arms and legs, but not abundantly. His trimmed pubes helped emphasize his erect cock.

Mine, which had been equally interested, was quickly deflating.

He began to speak.

I held up my hand.

His dark-blue eyes gleamed. After a moment, he moved to his haunches, and his body vibrated. “Oh my God, Kingston. I love it! We didn't know, and now we know, and we're gonna be together, and we’re gonna be happy, and oh my God, I am so happy, and I didn't think I would meet my mate, and I was so scared my mate was gonna be a girl, but this is just great, and....”

I took off and scurried home like the hounds of hell were on my heels.

And maybe they were.

I’d found my fated mate. And he happened to be the person I could least stand in the world. Why, why, why?

Since I didn’t have a good answer, I shifted back to human. I held my clothes in my hands and somehow hobbled back to the house with the fucking crutches.

I locked all the doors and headed upstairs.

Fuck my life.

It took hours…but somewhere near dawn I finally slipped into a restless slumber.

I slept through my alarm.

Well, I probably turned it off and went right back to sleep.

At about ten, my bladder demanded attention. I managed to roll out of bed without banging my ankle. I held myself still.

Then remembered I’d locked Ethan out.

Which was probably a mean thing to do, but I couldn’t have dealt with him last night. Hell, I wasn’t certain I could deal with him ever again.

Except you have a business, and you need a driver. He carries your equipment. He cooks healthy food for you.

Oh…I should look for the cookie stash.

Piss first. A sponge bath while sitting on the toilet, fresh clothes, and then I could go on the hunt.

Thirty minutes later, though, the notion of searching for cookies was too much. For reasons I couldn’t explain, I had a hankering for pineapple. And eggs.

He’s done this to you. Made you crave…healthy food.

Ugh.

In the kitchen, I opened the fridge and tried to figure out if I could cook eggs while on crutches. In short? Hell fucking no.

I grabbed a couple of frozen waffles and put them in the toaster.

Buzz.

Buzz.

Buzz

Right. Why ring the doorbell once when one can buzz it three times in a row?

I was nearly to the door when Ethan pounded. “Let me in, Kingston! I had the best night ever. I told Gran about you, and she’s happy for me, and she wants to meet you and all. Please unlock the door.”

Another pound.

Holy fuck.

Yet I unlocked the door and opened it. “Get the hell in here.” I ground out the words. “I don’t think the entire neighborhood needs to know our business.” I shut and relocked the door, all while balancing on my crutches.

He sniffed. “Cardboard waffles? Really?” He held up a bag from a sandwich store I knew. “They make the best breakfast sandwiches. Whole-wheat buns, egg yolks, avocado slices, and tomatoes. So healthy.” He moved past me and toward the kitchen.

I followed as quickly as I could.

To find him dumping my waffles into the compost.

They’re compostable? Huh…

He grabbed two plates and set about organizing the food.

I had to admit, it smelled…appealing.

“Sit. Sit. You need to elevate that ankle. I’ll bet you haven’t been doing that. See? You need me around.”

Not wanting an argument, I sat.

He put our plates before us, organized two glasses of water, and plopped down as well.

Finally, he met my gaze. “What? Aren't you happy? How many jobs have we got today? You haven't had your coffee, have you? No problem. I'm going to make the coffee while you eat. I know, I know! Decaf for me. I don't need any more energy. You've told me six hundred times.” He hopped up and headed for the coffee machine.

I was so discombobulated this morning that I hadn’t even made coffee. That was always the first step. Everything else afterward was routine, but didn’t matter half as much as the caffeine injection.

Then his words sank in. “I don’t have any jobs today. It’s Sunday. No emergency calls as of yet.” I eyed my phone on the counter.

He grabbed it, put it by my hand, and continued to make my coffee. Eventually he put it in front of me, and I was surprised to discover I’d eaten most of the sandwich. The avocado hadn’t even tasted slimy.

“So what is the plan for today?” He sat beside me and sipped his decaf.

“Honestly? I need a nap.”

He cocked his head? “Nocturnal adventures too much? Oh, is your ankle making you tired? Your body needs to heal. It’s giving you signals that you’d better not ignore. I’ll keep your phone close to me so if something comes up, I’ll let you know, but otherwise you can just rest. Gran says rest is so very important. And, like, shifting’s hard work. I can’t believe you’re a shifter! Isn’t that so cool? I mean, what are the odds? You don’t think Peter and Thomas are shifters, do you? Or Ed and Thornton? No, probably not. I did wonder…” He scrunched his nose.

“What?” As much as I wanted him to just stay quiet, I was also intensely curious about what he was thinking.

“Do you…” He cocked his head. “Tabitha.” He waved the thought away. “Never mind.”

I sought, from the recesses of my mind, my memories of the woman with the long dark-brown hair and deep-gray eyes. So like my own. Even if she was a shifter, I couldn’t fathom which she’d be.

Ethan, though? In retrospect, I could easily see how he’d end up being a squirrel shifter. Everything about him screamed showoff.

Well, if he’d turned out to be a peacock, that would’ve fit as well. Even today, he wore another rainbow tie, a pale-purple shirt, bright-blue suspenders, and—interestingly—boring khaki pants.

“You know how I recognized you?” He ducked his head for a moment, then caught my gaze. “Peanut brittle.”

I held my coffee aloft, totally mesmerized by his bright-blue eyes. “Come again?”

“Peanut brittle. Of all my favorite foods—and I have many—peanut brittle is the best. I sniffed last night, smelled it, and knew.” He nodded. “You?”

“Vanilla sugar cookies.”

He burst out laughing. “Because of course you’d have cookies in there somewhere.”

“I need to go upstairs. Would you mind…?” I gestured to the dirty dishes.

“Of course.” He laid his hand on mine. “You take it easy. Maybe I’ll make something special for lunch and I’ll bring it up to you.”

“That…” I resisted the urge to pull my hand back. This was way too much intimacy. “Thank you.” I’d leave it at that.

I managed to hobble upstairs without too much effort. Leaving my phone behind was tougher than even the climb because I was never without it. I had chargers all over the house. One could never be too careful.

When I arrived at my bed, though, I just dropped. I propped the crutches against the nightstand and eyed my damn wrapped ankle.

Life felt full of possibilities—I’d met my fated mate.

Life felt full of obstacles—my fated mate drove me nuts on a regular basis.

Nuts. Ha. Funny. At least his obsession with peanuts made more sense.

I held my wrist to my nose and sniffed. Nope. No peanut brittle scent. Nothing that, I believed, would make me attractive. I was a soap-and-water kind of guy.

And Ethan, in his human form, didn’t have a distinctive scent either.

Admit it…you find him cute. Adorable. Sexy in a very twinky way.

I pursed my lips. I didn’t have a traditional type. When I dated, I sought intellectual equals. People—mostly men—who’d lived interesting lives.

Not twenty-four-year-old, barely-through-puberty motormouths who didn’t know when to quit.

Except you like all those things about him. He makes you feel young again.

Again? When had I ever been young? I’d been born an old soul. Had been groomed, from a young age, to take over the family business. Had been singularly focused on being successful. Having a nice house, a comfortable living, and all the things a mate would find enticing.

Yet I’d never found a mate—fated or otherwise.

Until now .

Yeah, until—

“Why are you not lying down?” Ethan stood in the doorway holding a mug. “I made you some chamomile tea. To soothe you. You’re frazzled.”

Was I? I couldn’t be certain of anything anymore. “That was kind. I didn’t know I had chamomile tea.”

“You didn’t. I did a huge grocery shop this morning, and the delivery arrived. Didn’t you hear it? Oh well, clearly you’ve got things on your mind.” He put the mug on a coaster on the nightstand and then crawled onto the bed behind me.

To my shock.

He pressed his cheek against my shoulder blade. Then he wrapped his arms around my chest. “I know I’m a bit of a disappointment when it comes to a mate. But I’m going to be the best mate to you. Ever.”

His words were said with such surety that I almost believed him.

Almost.

“I didn’t say you disappointed me. I just don’t know…” I drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly—willing my stress to recede. “What if we don’t get along?”

“We’re gonna be so happy together. You’ll see. Here. Let me help you into bed.” He shifted so he could guide me down, then he moved off the bed so he could brace my ankle as I lay back. “You didn’t get much sleep last night. I can tell. I know you. You just sat and stressed all night.”

“Well, not all night.” I might’ve groused that—more because he already knew me so well and had my number as opposed to him making the comment at all.

“Come on, let me help you.”

And so he did. He put a pillow under my ankle. He fluffed the pillow beneath my head. He pulled the throw blanket from the lounge chair and draped it over me.

All the while, he touched me. He caressed my toes—ostensibly to ensure I had proper circulation. He scratched my scalp as he straightened the creases in the pillow. He brushed his hand against my biceps as he adjusted the blanket.

Each touch had my nerve endings on high alert.

Those feelings from last night were back—claim, conquer, and mate. Make him mine.

I shifted, trying to hide my growing erection under the too-thin blanket.

“Oh.” Ethan started at my crotch.

“It’s nothing. I’m sorry. You’re just…” I sighed. “You…well…” Inarticulate much?

“Well, you know I’d be happy to take care of that for you.”

My eyes widened as I met his intense gaze.

“Oh?” Right, because who needs words when you can just stare into those intense, deep pools of liquid?

He ran his hand down my cheek.

And lower.

He caressed my chest.

And grasped the blanket, slowly lowering it.

“Ethan…”

“Say no . If you don’t want this, just say no. You can always ask me to stop.”

His earnestness spoke to me. I was all about consent and, without doubt, he’d halt if I asked.

If .

But I didn’t want him to. “It’s okay.” I put my hands behind my head. “I’m sort of curious what you’re going to do.” Because, honestly, anything that involved my cock and just about any body part of his fascinated me.

He grinned. Then settled the blanket so it covered me from the knees to the tip of my toes. “So your feet don’t get cold.”

Given the heated look he was giving me, I doubted that was possible. Still, his consideration was appreciated. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He moved to unbutton my dress shirt.

I couldn’t help myself—if I wasn’t wearing my uniform during the day then I was in a nice shirt. T-shirts were for evening relaxing.

As he bared skin, he pressed little open-mouthed kisses to my chest. When he had the thing completely unbuttoned, I lifted my hips so he could tug it out from my pants.

I expected him to continue his exploration downward, but he returned to my chest and, after giving me another of those heated stares, he took one of my nipples into his mouth.

It pebbled instantly, reacting to the warm wetness. To the suction. To the little nibbles. I’d never considered my nipples particularly sensitive, but with each swirl of his tongue, my cock hardened further. Part of me wanted him to continue this forever, and part of me wanted to beg he pay attention to things below my waist.

Patience. He probably has more experience than you.

Yeah, possibly.

Sure, probably.

He switched to my other nipple, and I shifted my hips, seeking some kind of friction. I’d never been this hard this quickly. Usually I had to work up to full arousal. With Ethan, though, it was zero to one hundred in mere moments.

“Patience.” He chuckled.

“You have no idea what you’re asking.”

He winked. Then proceeded to lick his way down my sternum, to my navel, and lower still.

I grasped the blanket beneath me. He’s going to kill me.

Yeah, but what a way to go…

True that.

He slipped my button open. Then he lowered my zipper.

Finally .

Another wicked grin as he slid his hand under the waistband of my briefs. “I think you’re interested.”

“I’m going to combust—”

He shifted to his knees. “Just lift your hips—but don’t put pressure on your ankle.”

I was already raising my ass so he could slide my pants over my hips.

He yanked my underwear down as well—mindful of my cock, thank God. Then, finally, he palmed my shaft. He grasped it and gave a playful tug.

I groaned as a drip of precum leaked.

He lapped it up, scraping his tongue along my sensitive slit.

My hips jerked.

His gaze met mine as he swallowed me down.

I’m a goner.