I leaned against the doorway, watching him.
We were here. We were alive. We were together. There were good days. Oh, were there good days, days in which I’d wake up and feel him curled around me, his breath warm on my neck. Days when I’d feel him wake up, his lips trailing along my skin, and he’d hum as he stretched his sleep-slack muscles, hands tightening on my waist. His voice would be a rumble when he’d say hey and hi and good morning.
Those were the good days.
But there were other days too.
Days when the scratching at the door in his head was loud. Days when his shoulders were stiff and his eyes flickered violet. Days when he and Carter would disappear into the woods for hours on end, running themselves ragged until they collapsed and slept away the sound of claws against wood.
And there were days where I wasn’t any better.
I still wasn’t okay. I was getting there, and maybe it’d take a little longer, but I knew about those bad days. I’d be reaching for something, or scratching an itch, only to be violently reminded that my right hand was gone, that it’d been taken from me while I protected my Alpha. I would do it again. Of course I would. Anything to keep Ox safe. Always. But I had an underlying bitterness that sometimes wrapped around me, and it took a while for it to let me go.
Mark would run, and I’d be there waiting for him when he got back.
I’d lose myself in my head, and he’d be there to pull me close.
Rarely did our bad days coincide. But when they did, it felt chaotic. Wild. Both of us were dangerously close to being feral.
But those days were few and far between.
They were worth it, though. Everything about him was worth it. And even though I was putting up a fight, it was half-assed, the sight of him filling up my space making me feel more at ease than I’d been in a long time. I never thought we’d get to this point. I never thought we’d belong to each other.
“You just gonna stand there and stare at my ass?” he asked without looking up at me.
“It’s a nice ass.”
He laughed. If only Marty could see what had happened in his old house. I thought he’d be okay with it. “That so?”
I pushed off the doorway. “I could show you, if you wanted.”
He arched an eyebrow as he looked up at me. “You could… show me my ass?”
“How nice it is. What can be done with it, if one was so inclined.”
“We can hear you!” Carter shouted down the hallway. “What the fuck. No one should ever have to hear their witch trying to have sexy talk with their uncle. Are you trying to traumatize us further? Jesus, Gordo. Haven’t we all been through enough?”
The timber wolf growled in agreement.
“How much longer until we can make them leave?” I muttered, pressing myself against Mark’s back. I reached up and closed my hand over the raven on his throat. He tilted his head back on my shoulder.
“Depends on what’s left in the truck.” His beard scraped against my cheek as he rubbed his face on mine. Fucking wolves. A
lways with the scenting. “Have to have it back by the end of the day.”
“I like it,” I admitted.
“What?”
“Having you here. With me.”
I felt his laugh underneath my hand. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone you’re getting soft.”
I had to ask one last time. “You’re sure about this? Being here. With me. It’s not—I know it’s not the pack house, but—”
“Wherever you are, that’s where my home is.”
Jesus fucking Christ. I couldn’t—“And you say I’m getting soft.” It was a deflection. He knew it, but he let me have it. I didn’t do well when he said things that burned me from the inside out.