Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-two
MATT
It had been a long night, searching, listening, every sense stretched to breaking point. Even his inexhaustible wolf was tired, a bone-deep ache from the tension that had gripped him all night.
He’d detected nothing, no matter how far he’d roamed. That was better than the alternative, but the fact that Karl had reacted to something was undeniable. Karl didn’t imagine things.
Best-case scenario, the hostile pack—and it must be a pack, because non-shifters wouldn’t be able to stay hidden from shifters for long—had passed by their territory again on their way back from searching for Jesse. They’d now be well on their way to wherever they came from.
It was a neat little story. A little too neat. Matt snarled as he padded through the yard. He wouldn’t put up with lying to himself.
Now, he had to decide what to do about his pack. He was uneasy at the thought of Jason and Tristan leaving pack territory today. Bryce could handle himself out there, but those two?
He waged a silent battle with himself, trying to work out if his concern was simply overreaction after Cheyenne. If he was being too cautious, he’d suffocate his pack. If he wasn’t cautious enough—If he let one of them walk into danger again—
He forced the memories down. Bryce would tell him there was no harm in being cautious. But Bryce had been in Cheyenne. He had his own ghosts.
What Matt knew for certain was that if anything happened to either of them, he’d never be able to live with the guilt. They’d given themselves to him, trusting him to keep them safe.
So he headed back to the house before Tristan was likely to be stirring from his bed, ready to tell the kid he had a snow day. In the middle of summer.
Shifting when he reached the porch, he donned a pair of sweats from the basket of clothes they kept handy. Too damn cold to be naked right now. He glanced over his shoulder as he opened the back door, checking to see if any of the others were following now that he’d released them from duty.
Not yet. Typical of his pack—they were thorough to a fault. None of them would come in for the breakfast they must be longing for until they’d checked every inch of their territory one last time. And he loved them for it.
He stepped through the back door and stopped dead. Jesse was staring at him, his eyes wide, his face pale and unreadable.
And then Matt remembered how he’d fucked up last night, grabbing Jesse. But this didn’t look like fear—and God, he never wanted to see that from Jesse again. Especially not aimed at him. It didn’t even look like Jesse was about to tear into him.
No, this looked like shock. It couldn’t be from the little bombshell he’d accidentally tossed in Jesse’s lap last night about them being mates, because Jesse had the entire night to get his mind around the idea.
Most likely, Jesse had taken two seconds flat to dismiss it as bullshit and move on.
Matt didn’t have a clue what was going on with Jesse right now, and he didn’t like that fact.
Jesse turned sharply away from him. “Coffee?” he asked, his voice choked.
Honestly, Matt had been about to tell Tristan he was to stay home, then head to bed to crash. But Jesse needed something from him, and whatever it was, it came first.
He pulled out a chair and sat at the table, hoping that would encourage Jesse to do the same. Because right now, the tension vibrating through Jesse made him look seconds away from bolting.
“Join me?” he invited.
“I’m gonna be bleeding coffee at this rate,” Jesse shot back at him, and at least he sounded more himself.
He dragged out a chair and sat opposite Matt, who tried to suppress his smirk when he saw that, for all his protests, Jesse had poured himself a coffee. He pushed Matt’s mug across the table, and when Matt reached to take it, their fingers brushed.
Touching Jesse always felt electric, but he wasn’t prepared for Jesse’s reaction. He gasped before snatching back his hand. God, had Matt really ruined everything by grabbing Jesse like that?
Jesse’s eyes were wide again, his pupils large enough to drive a bus through.
“Whatever Karl sensed earlier, it’s clear out there now,” Matt said.
His words seemed irrelevant in the face of Jesse’s reaction to him, but he didn’t know what else to say.
Asking Jesse what was going on with him was the fastest way to shut him down.
And there was no way Matt was going to bring up the subject of their being mates until he’d gotten some sleep and his brain was working better.
Seemed like he didn’t get a say in that.
“You said we’re mates.” Jesse’s voice was harsh, but his eyes… For a second—just a second—Matt swore he saw something else. Wistfulness, maybe, or longing.
And suddenly, Matt knew. He’d spent so long fighting this, convincing himself it could never work, listing every reason why it was impossible. Those reasons still stood, but they didn’t change the truth.
He wanted Jesse to be his.
The realization left him winded. Maybe it had been spending the night shifted, letting his wolf’s instincts settle over him.
Maybe it was coming back to the house and finding Jesse—complicated, sharp-tongued, impossible Jesse—still here, waiting for him.
Jesse, who pushed and challenged him, but who hadn’t walked away.
He breathed out slowly, steadying himself. Wanting Jesse was one thing. Acting on it was another. Because this wasn’t his choice alone. If Jesse wanted him, if that look meant what Matt hoped so desperately it did, then Jesse could have him. Body and soul.
He’d need to work at it, to find a way to keep his balance and control so that having Jesse wouldn’t threaten his pack, but if ever something deserved his efforts, it was this. It was Jesse.
Overwhelmed by the feeling of rightness filling him, it took Matt a moment to realize he hadn’t responded to Jesse’s statement.
Jesse had obviously given up on waiting for an answer and was pursuing his own line of thought. “What’s it mean to be mates?”
He wasn’t asking in general—Matt had already explained that to him, his first day here. He wanted to know what it meant for them. Matt held his gaze and hoped Jesse would see his sincerity.
“It means I want you to stay.”
For an instant, Jesse’s eyes glowed with pure, uncomplicated happiness, and Matt’s heart flipped unevenly in his chest. Jesse should look like that always. But then, as fast as it had come, the glow vanished. A mask slammed into place—quick and practiced, like he’d been doing it all his life.
Jesse tipped his head back and narrowed his eyes. “To join your pack, you mean?”
Grappling with how to answer that, Matt hesitated. Just for a second, but Jesse saw it.
His short, sharp huff masked something brittle. He shoved his chair back and stood. “Thought so.”
“Jesse.” Matt rose from his chair on instinct, but before he could reach for Jesse, he remembered last night. He forced himself to go still, fists unclenching by sheer will. He would never be yet another thing Jesse had to defend himself against.
He had to find words, and quickly. But Matt had always been better at action than words.
Meanwhile, Jesse had pivoted and was watching him warily. At least he wasn’t running. Not yet.
“I want you to stay as my mate,” Matt said, the words a pale reflection of the feelings inside him.
The feelings he’d spent so long denying, and now he didn’t know why.
Couldn’t remember what had seemed so important.
Nothing was more important than Jesse. “And yes, I want you to be part of my pack too.”
Jesse didn’t speak. He didn’t even blink.
Matt’s heart pounded as the silence stretched.
“It’s a lot, I get it,” Matt added, his voice tightening, “But don’t shut the door on it without even thinking about it.”
JESSE
All Jesse could do was breathe. Try to, anyway.
Matt wanted him. Not for a night. Not for a quick fuck. He wanted Jesse to stay.
It slammed into Jesse. This man—this bossy, good, sexy as hell man—was offering him something Jesse had never had. A place. A future. Himself.
The temptation burned inside him, bright and seductive. Flames promising warmth—and ready to eat him alive. Matt wanted him as part of his pack. That meant rules. It meant giving over control of every part of him.
He wouldn’t be Jesse Turner any more, drifting on his own, answering to no one. He’d be claimed. He’d lose himself. His pride and independence were all he had.
“So, what?” he bit out, voice hoarse. “I say yes, and you’re gonna slap a collar on me? Tell me to sit and stay?”
Matt flinched. “No.”
Maybe he was flinging harder words than he meant, but he was reminding himself as much as challenging Matt. He couldn’t do this. He mustn’t do this, and he didn’t know why he was even tempted.
“Pack’s just a leash,” he threw at Matt.
“It’s not,” Matt said. “At least, it shouldn’t be.”
“Yeah?” Jesse’s voice dropped. “Then why’s it feel like saying yes means givin’ up who I am?”
He hadn’t meant to say that much. But it slipped out, raw and jagged, because he was hurting. He wanted Matt, but he couldn’t pay the cost of having him, and it wasn’t fucking fair.
The back door opened, and Jason walked in.
Frustration flickered over Matt’s face. “Can we finish this later?” he asked.
Jesse blinked. Not ordered. Asked. That, almost more than anything else, shook him.
“If you want,” he muttered, suddenly unsure of everything.
As Matt swung around to speak to Jason, telling him to take a seat because Matt was going to cook breakfast, it brought yet another complication into focus. Even if Jesse were willing to join the pack, he’d never have Matt completely to himself. He’d always have to share him.
It wasn’t like Jesse was used to having anyone in his life. Even part of Matt Urban was more than he’d had before, and it should be enough for him. But it wasn’t. He was greedy. If he was going to be with Matt, he wanted all of him.
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