30. Milo
MILO
“ A bsolutely not.”
Milo pinched the bridge of his nose, elbow braced in the palm of his other hand. When he finally looked up, his fingers slid to cup his cheek, and he found Willow staring at him with the most pitiful expression he’d ever seen.
His chest gave an uncomfortable squeeze.
She was cradling two kittens, both tucked against her chest like they already belonged to her. And to be fair, they were adorable. But they didn’t have a pet-friendly household. It wasn’t about the werewolf thing; animals that tolerated dogs usually handled his kind just fine.
No, his reasons were far simpler. He didn’t want creatures in his home that pissed, shit, and shredded furniture for fun.
Still, with her looking at him like that, the hard line he’d drawn started to blur.
She’d started with the guinea pigs, crouching low to offer them a handful of greens the staff had given her. The little creatures squeaked and shuffled closer, and he caught a quiet smile curving her mouth.
From there, she moved to the birds—colorful flashes of feathers behind bars. She tilted her head, listening as one cocked its own head back at her, the two of them locked in some silent conversation that made her eyes glimmer.
The dogs were next. Big ones, small ones, all pressing to the gate for her touch. She crouched again, letting eager noses bump her palms, laughing when one licked her fingers.
Her joy made his stomach flip.
And then, of course, the cats. She melted for them instantly, scooping one into her arms and letting it curl into her chest for a cuddle it was delighted to have. Watching her like that—open, unguarded, the walls down—it did something to him.
Now he was in a situation he hadn’t prepared for, and he hated being unprepared.
“But they love me,” she whimpered, lifting the kittens until only her eyes peeked over their backs, pressing her face into their soft fur.
“Yes, and I’m sure they’ll learn to love whatever family actually takes them home, Willow.”
She lowered them slowly, and he caught the tremble in her bottom lip.
Oh, no. Please. Not that.
Her eyes glossed over, filling with tears, and she sniffled .
“But they’ll make me happy. And I don’t have anything else that makes me happy because you took it all away from me.”
The words hit like a sucker punch.
She’s not serious. She did not just go there.
He groaned inwardly, but before he could respond?—
“Uhm, hi!”
Both their heads turned toward a shelter worker approaching, waving brightly.
“Sorry, couldn’t help overhearing. Just thought I’d mention that we’ve got a special today. Two kittens for the adoption fee of one!”
Milo’s jaw tightened. He could have murdered her on the spot.
“Perfect! It’s settled, then.” Willow, who had been crouching on the floor, stood with careful grace, both kittens secure in her arms.
“I’ll just go get the paperwork”
With that, the worker strode off.
Milo shot her a look of pure, simmering frustration.
“Y’know,” he said, voice low and flat, “I’m starting to think you actually do want to end up over my knee. I did warn you earlier.”
He hadn’t even considered what her reaction to those words might be. Hadn’t even thought about whether it might push her too far.
But she only rolled her eyes, slow and exaggerated, before a small smile tugged at her lips as she looked away.
The worker returned quickly with a clipboard in hand, cheerfully announcing she’d “box them up” while they handled the paperwork. Willow practically bounced in place, the kind of giddiness that made Milo’s eye twitch as he began filling in the forms.
“So,” he asked gruffly without looking up, “if you like animals this much, why don’t you already have some?”
“Well, I wouldn’t have had time to take care of them.” Her arms crossed, her tone dry but not sharp. “But now I don’t have a job, so… y’know. I think I can manage it.”
She didn’t sound genuinely upset. Which, somehow, irritated him more.
Milo exhaled hard as he scrawled the last signature and handed the clipboard back to the woman. Willow cradled the cardboard carrier like it was the most precious thing in the world, his card sliding into the reader, the beep of approval, and then the two of them stepping out into the evening air.
Titan was exactly where Milo had told him to be, posted by the SUV.
“Oh—Wow, I forgot you were even here,” Willow said, blinking at him in genuine surprise.
“Uh… thanks?” Titan frowned, leaning to get a look. “What’s in the box?”
Milo groaned, pulling open Willow’s door. She set the kittens down on the seat first, then climbed in and put the box in her lap.
“They’re kittens!” Willow announced to Titan as he slid into the back seat.
“You let her get kittens?” Titan said in pure disbelief, like Milo had just gone off the deep end.
Milo felt the urge to put his head through the steering wheel.
“So does this mean I can finally get a dog?” Titan leaned forward between the seats, all hope and no sense.
Milo shoved him back the same way he had earlier. “Absolutely the fuck not.”
“Come on, Milo. That’s so unfair, dude!”
“She doesn’t know it yet,” Milo said, eyes on the rearview, “but I’m making her take them back tomorrow. ”
Willow’s head snapped toward him in horror and outrage. He couldn’t help it—he laughed, shaking his head as he eased the SUV out of the parking spot.
“Okay, but seriously, why can’t we get a dog?”
“Because we have you. Close enough.”
“Oh, fuck you, man.”
“Right back at you, punk.”
***
They stopped at a pet store for the essentials, against Milo’s better judgment. The idea of walking into an unsecured location without eyes or ears already inside made his skin prickle.
But Willow had begged him, insisting the kittens couldn’t go without for even one night. And when she looked at him like that, there wasn’t a damn thing he could do but give in.
He grumbled the whole way in, pushing the cart with the boxed-up kittens riding in the seat. Willow moved ahead of him, plucking toys and treats from the shelves, comparing food brands like she was making a call that might decide the fate of the entire world.
She wore the quiet act of caring like it had always belonged to her. It likely had. His chest tightened as he watched her crouch to read the side of a bag, her hair falling forward, her lip caught lightly between her teeth.
She had no idea what she did to him. No idea how deep it went.
In his head, it was too easy to picture her like this in his home—barefoot, glowing, the swell of his child under her shirt as she moved around the kitchen, or leaned over a laundry basket.
That vision hit low and hard, heat curling through him, possessive and dangerous.
The beast was coming back to the surface, and it wanted to breed its bitch.
He dragged his eyes back to the cart, forcing himself to focus on the here and now. But the image stayed with him, stubborn as his thudding heartbeat.
“Are you okay?” Willow asked, brows knitting as she studied him.
“Yeah, fine. Just thinking.” His tone was easy, the smile that followed enough to put her at ease. She turned back to the row of litter boxes without pressing.
“Get the self-cleaning one,” he said, a yawn wrapping around the words.
“It’s like five hundred dollars, Milo.”
“I don’t care. ”
She hesitated, searching his face for a beat before sliding the box off the shelf and dropping it into the cart. The basket was filling fast—food, toys, beds, that overpriced litter box—and Milo was already doing the math. This was going to be an expensive trip.
But he didn’t care. Not even a little. Nothing was too much for her. She was his queen, and he’d see to it she never wanted for a single thing.
And apparently, neither would her cats.
They checked out at the register, Milo taking the bags while Willow carried the boxed-up kittens. Outside, he opened her door, making sure she was settled before Titan appeared to help load the haul into the back.
When the trunk finally clicked shut, Milo stood there for a moment, shaking his head.
God, what this woman was doing to him.