Little Wolf (12 page)

The cabin had been built for families, not for one deputy and one sheriff who was barely home and then only to eat and sleep. Tim could hear the wind outside, and the steady bump of Nathaniel’s heart down the hall. The beat was low, yet Tim had no problem picking it out amid the rustling trees and creaking timber.

His uncle’s house had always been full of people. Employees mostly, but occasionally family, and the few weres his uncle had kept around him. The city was constant noise, the impersonal sounds of thousands of separate lives. Tim hadn’t been able to untangle the sounds and hadn’t wanted to. Here, he listened to Nathaniel’s heart and looked around his room again.

He tried to think about something else. As a child this would have meant his mother’s stories, but Tim had given up on fairy tales after meeting his first fairy and getting his ass pinched. He could almost picture Nathaniel as a child in a room like this one, but couldn’t imagine him needing a story to keep nightmares away. He couldn’t imagine Nathaniel having nightmares, but something had been keeping Nathaniel up at night.

At least he was relaxed enough to sleep now. Tim held his breath to try to catch the sound of Nathaniel’s heartbeat again. He let it run through his mind while he rubbed his cheek against the rough fabric of the bare mattress. The blankets and sheets were soft.

He had to get up and focus enough of his meager magic skills to set wards on this room, maybe the entire house. At least that would give him warning that it was time to run, maybe give him a head start and keep Nathaniel from getting into too much trouble. He tuned in to the rhythm of Nathaniel’s heart again. When he listened to it, it didn’t seem like anything was missing anymore. After a while his eyes closed.

T
IM
WOKE
up to a darkened room and held still as his vision sharpened to let him see into shadows. He remembered where he was the same moment he realized he’d forgotten to set up any wards. He reached for the charms at his neck as he slid his feet to the floor and replaced the blankets on the bed.

There was a difference in the sounds of the house. It could have been the night, the moon, making the house seem more alive, but he pushed away the thought and crept to the door.

He moved slowly down the hall. The door to Nathaniel’s room was open, the empty bed visible. Tim hurried to the kitchen, guilty because he’d forgotten to replace the bacon he’d eaten, only to find Nathaniel wasn’t there either.

Tim sniffed, then angled his head toward the front door and Nathaniel’s presence. Nathaniel was outside.
Probably peeing on things
, Tim told himself, then got stupidly curious about that. Maybe he ought to piss in some bushes, embrace his inner Dirus, and claim Nathaniel’s shrubbery.

He stopped and considered going to his room. Talking to Nathaniel seemed like a dumb idea now that Tim had gotten some rest, which was something else to think about, why he kept relaxing enough to fall asleep around someone he should have been afraid of.

“Little Wolf,” Nathaniel called out. Tim wasn’t trying to be sneaky, but he really was the worst were ever. He stomped as noisily as possible to the front door and out onto the porch.

The moonlight was bright to his adjusted eyes, and he blinked for a few moments until he made out Nathaniel’s shape leaning against a support column for the sloping porch roof, at the opposite end of the porch. He had put on pants, but he was still shirtless, something the moonlight made abundantly clear.

Tim sat down without even checking to make sure he was over the bench. “Just fuck me,” he said on an exhale.

Nathaniel turned. “What was that?”

Tim bit his lip to keep from repeating it. Nathaniel was skin and silvery light that made Tim want to expose his throat and give up everything because he didn’t compare to the statue before him.

“Please,” Tim told him weakly after swallowing a mouthful of saliva, “like you don’t know what you look like.”

“I know.” It was the last thing Tim expected Nathaniel to say, and without even a trace of a smirk. Luca would have killed for his physique, but Nathaniel seemed as resigned to it as if it were a fairy curse. Tim almost asked if it was and only didn’t because talking about curses was rude and kind of defeated the purpose. Anyway, no fairy would curse someone to hotness and then not bone him to death.

“Yeah, it’s so awful being incredibly hot,” Tim remarked without any pity when Nathaniel turned away to look out at the line of trees. “Don’t tell me, being a sex god doesn’t make your life easier.”

“Sex god?” Nathaniel repeated, then gave a single shake of his head. He snorted as if something was funny. “It has advantages,” he admitted, “but not for everything. Don’t you roll your eyes again, Little Wolf, I’m serious. I’m not a romance novel cover.”

Tim had a startled second to remember the fact he was talking to another were who could see in the dark and read his expressions. It made him uncomfortably aware of how much he must have given away when staring at Nathaniel.

“I understand,” Tim offered after clearing his throat. “Woe! How hard it is to be beautiful. I have to beat them off with a stick, myself.”

“Why use a stick when there’s always sarcasm?” Nathaniel huffed back at him, as if Tim’s big mouth was the sole reason Tim wasn’t getting laid 24-7.

“If you are implying that my smart mouth is some kind of defense mechanism, you are wrong.” Tim crossed his arms. “I was born a sarcastic asshole, I’m pretty sure. It’s in my genes or something. Put me in a room filled with the biggest, baddest wolf, and I will endanger my life by telling him off.”

“Have you been in a room with the biggest, baddest wolf?” Nathaniel leaned his head to one side to look at him.

Tim shut his mouth and jutted out his chin. After a few seconds of expectant silence, he took a breath. “You’re good.” That perfect face made Tim forget he was talking to someone with a brain.

“You don’t lead a p—a town—by missing chances to get answers,” Nathaniel answered. He had been going to say “pack,” not “town,” Tim could tell. Nathaniel wanted Tim to be comfortable and was deliberately avoiding were terms. It was disquieting to know how much Nathaniel was thinking of him.

“Stop being nice. It’s confusing,” Tim grumbled, annoyed at Nathaniel for no reason. The guy was trying to help. Except that no one had asked him to, and now Tim was here and Nathaniel was shirtless and thoughtful. “Bastard.”

“Are you the bastard, or am I the bastard here?” Nathaniel faced him again. “I swear you have the manners of someone—”

“Raised by wolves?” Tim finished for him.

Apparently Nathaniel hated that corny joke. He scowled. “Were you?” He took a step forward but stopped when Tim scowled right back at him. “You don’t seem to know much about us,” Nathaniel explained, not softening his voice exactly, but taking his time to say the words. He let the silence stay between them when he was done, and looked into Tim’s eyes until Tim finally glanced away. Tim could study the tree line, too, and pretend Nathaniel was studying his profile bathed in moonlight and thinking about kissing him.

“I had the very best of weres as an example of what I should be,” Tim confessed quietly after a few minutes of silence. “I just never saw a point in trying to be the best when I looked like this.”

Nathaniel took a breath like he was going to say something, so Tim hurried on, still staring at trees.

“I didn’t get much of a chance to try anyway. You should know now that no lock can stand in my way. If I want out, I will get out.” He turned back with a startled jump at his own words. “I can’t believe I told you that. Obviously you aren’t going to lock me up. Why would you? And, um, it isn’t like I was locked up for real. Well, I was, but it was for my own good. He meant well and with Luc—with others around, I can’t blame him for that.”

“Who meant well, Tim?” Nathaniel was right in front of him, larger than before, as if he’d straightened in response to a threat. Tim had the distracted thought that Nathaniel was in control of himself and yet revealing so much. Nathaniel was furious, and Tim was too surprised to be wary at his questions. “Who locked you up?”

“
Tried
to lock me up,” Tim corrected.

“Are these the people you’re running from?” Nathaniel was burning with excess heat.

Tim sucked in a breath and swallowed the taste of Nathaniel’s anger. He tipped his head farther back. But if Nathaniel saw him as vulnerable, he must not have an impulse to hurt him. If anything, he seemed pissed that someone would.

“What else did they do to you?”

Tim stared until his eyes were stinging, and then he blinked and stared some more. He was aware his heart was pounding, like he was aware he was breathing harder. He slid his hands to the bench and pushed down in case he had to run.

“Nathaniel, they…,” he started slowly, then shook his head and broke eye contact. Sometimes spells could be broken that way. “Nothing. It’s not bad, but I’m not going back.”

“Tim—”

“And you can’t make me.” Tim looked up. “I’ll run if you try.” The moment he said it, Nathaniel dropped his gaze. It was only for a second, and then Nathaniel was staring at him again.

“Don’t run. I can help you. Stay.” Nathaniel put a hand out but set it on the railing around the porch. Tim watched it with a sort of fascination. He had to think about what to say; he’d never had to convince someone not to help him before.

“I’ll stay,” Tim agreed, then felt itchy without an out, so he gave himself one. “For a while. But it’s better if you don’t know what I’m running from, really.”

Nathaniel was not happy. “I could call Ray Branigan, ask him.”

“You wouldn’t!” Tim wasn’t sure if he was more outraged or embarrassed. He leapt up off the bench, then made himself sit down to try to act unconcerned. “Ray doesn’t know anything.” He was telling the truth, but with his heart going crazy, there was no way Nathaniel wasn’t going to know he was scared. “Look, if he—if anyone—follows me here, I’ll say you knew nothing about it.”

“Will
he
follow you here?” Nathaniel caught Tim’s slip before Tim did, but he didn’t ask for a name. It was probably his way of being reasonable, of compromising with Tim’s desire for secrecy.

“You are so fucking perfect. Are you bad at anything?” Tim asked in frustration.

Nathaniel let out an abrupt laugh that had no real amusement in it. “You mean, am I real?” Nathaniel’s choice of words was too familiar. Tim had asked him if he made jokes like a real person. It must have stung. “I don’t give up when I should,” Nathaniel admitted.

“That….” Tim frowned. “That isn’t a defect. You suck at being less than amazing.”

Nathaniel laughed again, genuinely this time. “Sorry.” He paused to clear his throat, then went on. “Maybe you’ll revise your opinion if you get to know me.” Tim must have lifted his eyebrows, because Nathaniel continued in a completely blank tone. “See if I’m more than an asshole with a perfect face.”

“Ah.” Tim was an idiot and kind of a jerk. “I did say I was also an asshole, if that helps. And I really am. I’ve always been like that. I try to take other people’s shit and I can’t, not even with my life on the line. Of course, sometimes it’s not even about their shit. It’s like a habit I can’t break, which is a long way to say that you probably aren’t just an asshole with a pretty face.” Tim took a breath, but he already knew he wasn’t done. “You have a great butt too.”

He straightened up when Nathaniel let out another laugh, startled but pleasant. Tim could already tell he’d recognize it in a crowd. He thought about telling Nathaniel he ought to laugh more, only it sounded like a line, and anyway, Tim wasn’t about to tell Nathaniel what to do. Well, more than he already had.

“That’s a good sign, right?” he asked instead, kind of giddy at how Nathaniel was smiling at him. “Making you laugh? Now you won’t eat me or whatever.”

“
Whatever
.” Nathaniel stopped laughing.

Shit
. Tim could feel the silence getting intense again and scratched the top of his head and tried to seem innocent. Nathaniel arched an eyebrow but took a step back. Tim wasn’t fooled. Nathaniel wasn’t about to give him space at all.

“Tim,” he began.

Tim wanted to squirm. “My uncle used to do that. Say ‘Tim’ instead of ‘Timothy’ when he had some point to make.” Admitting that wasn’t going to distract Nathaniel now, not with the scent of Tim’s fear in his nose.

“Are they weres?” Nathaniel seemed to hate saying it. “The ones who have you so scared and who have you thinking that I would….” Maim Tim or mount him, that’s what Tim had been stupid enough to accuse Nathaniel of wanting to do. Nathaniel took another step away and curled his hands against his thighs. “Are they were?”

“I don’t actually think you would….” Tim chewed his lip for a minute and tried not to breathe. He didn’t want to smell any of Nathaniel’s emotions and feel any worse than he already did. “But you aren’t weak. You aren’t
little
. You don’t understand.” Tim scowled at the trees, because he really didn’t want to see the lack of comprehension in Nathaniel’s expression. “You are the law in this town, even without a badge. The humans know it too, like they know not to interfere too much in something that’s werewolf business.” His throat got tight, and his skin felt hot. He’d never had to say these things before, and to a less perfect example of a were he might not have had to. His uncle, Luca, had made it clear. Nathaniel had probably never felt weak. “I am aware of where I belong in any group hierarchy, especially a were one. I know what my value is.” His mouth was so dry. “No one is going to say anything if you wanted to get rid of me or… do anything else to me.”

Nathaniel took another step from Tim, then abruptly sat down in one of the chairs. Tim almost would have said he fell into it.

“To get this straight,” Nathaniel began after a tense moment, and swallowed like his mouth was dry too. “You meant what you said when I met you. Because you are little, you think I am going to—” He spent a second looking for a word, then pushed one out. “—
force
you. Or if not that, hurt you.”