Chapter 48
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
MILO
The first problem appeared when Calder tried to button my flannel.
Not the shifting itself—that still hit me every single time.
One second he was all dark fur, impossible size, with claws and eyes that seemed like they glowed. Then the shape of him changed, folding inward with a low sound of cracking bone and splitting muscle until the man beneath the ancient being stood there instead.
Tall, pale, and barefoot on the wooden floor.
Icy blond hair fell around his shoulders in the fading light, his soft green eyes catching on me immediately the way they always did after he shifted.
And every single time, my brain still seemed to short-circuit for a second because the man was ridiculously beautiful.
He was no softer than the creature in the woods, no less of a beast, just different in a way that kept catching me off guard no matter how many times I saw it.
No, the real problem was watching a six-foot-seven male I loved attempt to navigate buttons with complete seriousness.
I did try to help, but that lasted maybe thirty seconds before Calder insisted he could “learn the human shirt correctly.”
Now I stood beside the bed, trying very hard to be useful while also trying not to completely lose my mind watching him struggle into my clothes like the world’s most intimidating dress-up experiment.
It was not normal.
The dark green flannel stretched tightly across Calder’s shoulders, the sleeves stopping several inches above his wrists no matter how many times he tugged them lower.
The black T-shirt was even worse, pulled taut enough across his chest that I was beginning to understand why romance novels were always describing people as unfairly attractive.
Because this?
This was deeply unfair.
“No, your arm goes through here,” I instructed, reaching for his wrist again before he accidentally attempted to force his hand through the wrong sleeve opening for the third time.
“Humans voluntarily choose this?”
A laugh escaped me before I could stop it. “Most of us, yeah.”
Calder allowed me to guide him without protest, watching the movement carefully like he was committing the process to memory, which somehow made my already questionable emotional stability even more fragile.
Calder returned his attention to the shirt, glaring at the button like it had personally offended his ancestors. “These are inefficient,” he informed me.
I bit the inside of my cheek. “Buttons?”
“Yes.” He continued working at it with the same concentration he usually reserved for tracking danger through the forest. “There are too many of them for such a small purpose.”
“That purpose being?”
“To keep the shirt closed.”
“You’ve really uncovered fashion’s greatest flaw.”
“I do not understand why humans create difficulties intentionally.”
“Wait until you discover skinny jeans, babe.”
His eyes lifted briefly toward me. “I do not think I would survive those.”
I had to look away for a second before my grin got worse.
A month ago, I’d been standing in these woods trying to process the fact that something like Calder could even exist, not entirely sure whether I was more frightened of him or fascinated by him.
Now I was in the cabin trying not to smile too hard while he argued with a flannel shirt like an annoyed lumberjack from another dimension.
His attention returned to the flannel. “This one is still wrong.”
“That’s because you’re built like a myth people warn travelers about.”
“I thought we agreed I was no longer frightening.”
“You’re not frightening,” I said immediately.
Beautiful, my brain supplied without permission.
Ancient.
Massive.
Otherworldly.
Did I say beautiful?
And somehow even more distracting dressed in my clothes than he was stark naked.
Which felt medically concerning at this point.
I moved before I could think too hard about it and reached for the next button myself. “Here,” I murmured. “You have to guide it through first.”
Calder watched my hands carefully while I worked the button into place, his attention so focused it sent heat crawling up the back of my neck.
This close, I could feel the heat of him even in this form. Clean soap from the shower mixed with pine and cold forest air beneath the borrowed fabric.
His chest rose once beneath my hands. Then his eyes dropped briefly toward me. “You are distracted again,” he said quietly.
“You’re wearing my clothes,” I muttered. “I think I’m allowed.”
Calder finally got the button through and looked up at me expectantly, like he’d accomplished something significant. “I believe I have succeeded.”
“You absolutely have.”
His gaze lingered on me for another second before dropping toward the open duffel bag on the bed. “These are all your clothes?”
“Most of them.”
“You own many identical black shirts.”
“I contain multitudes.”
“That sentence explained nothing.”
I grinned and pushed off the doorway, crossing the room slowly.
In his human form, I could look directly into his face without craning my neck quite as badly, though he still towered over me.
His hair fell in near reflective strands around his shoulders in the low cabin light, his deep hunter eyes following me with complete attention as I stopped in front of him.
The flannel really should not have looked as good as it did. He looked like the kind of man people wrote old folk songs about before vanishing mysteriously into the woods. “You’re staring again,” he said quietly.
“I’m observing.”
“That is not different.”
“Sure it is.”
“It is literally not.”
I reached up automatically, fixing the collar where it had folded awkwardly beneath his hair. The movement brought us closer. God, fixing a collar shouldn’t have been so damn endearing.
I could feel the heat radiating from him, reminding me of exactly how it felt to almost lose him.
Something in my chest twisted painfully at the memory.
Calder’s attention changed the second it crossed my face. He always noticed too much. “You are worried again.”
“I’m really trying to figure out how you keep doing that.”
“You become quieter.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes.”
Apparently I was easier to read than I thought.
Calder’s hand rested against my waist, large and warm even in this form, and some stubborn part of me still couldn’t fully process the fact that someone this powerful touched me like I was something worth being gentle with. “You do not need to worry now,” he murmured.
“I know.”
And I did.
I trusted him so completely now it no longer felt like trust at all. It felt inevitable, like my body had simply accepted him somewhere deeper than logic.
Calder glanced down at himself again. “Will your Mrs. Alvarez find this acceptable?”
The sincerity behind the question hit me so hard I almost smiled, not because he was worried about impressing her, because he cared that she mattered to me.
“She’s going to adore you,” I told him honestly.
“You sound very certain.”
“I am.” I looked him over once more before snorting softly. “Although she is absolutely going to try feeding you until you physically can’t move anymore.”
“I heal quickly.”
“That is not how dinner works.”
His brow furrowed slightly. “I do not understand the distinction.”
“I know, babe.”
His attention caught immediately on the word. “You continue calling me that.”
Uh-oh–literal Calder had entered the building.
I failed spectacularly at hiding my grin. “Yeah?”
“What does it mean?”
I should have expected that question eventually. Instead of the real explanation, I said the first thing that came into my head. “It means you’re cute and I like you.”
“That is not linguistically specific.”
“You are impossible.”
“No,” he said with complete seriousness. “I am standing directly in front of you.”
That made me chuckle, and the whole time he just watched me with that soft, quiet focus like making me happy was something important enough to memorize.
I was still smiling when we left the cabin. The air wrapped around us immediately, cool enough now that the warmth from inside the cabin still clung faintly to my skin.
Calder paused beside me the second the SUV came into view, studying it.
“This is Bessie, by the way.”
He looked at me. “Bessie.”
“My car. I named her.”
“You gave it a name?”
“Yeah.”
“It is not alive.”
“Nope.”
“And you still named it?”
I grinned. “Yeah. We do that. Plus, she has personality.”
“That explains why you speak to it.”
“I speak to lots of things.”
“Yes.” His gaze lingered on me a second longer. “I have noticed.”
Fair.
I watched him study Bessie like I wasn’t completely fascinated myself.
The light reflected off his hair, silver streaking through the blond, as he looked slowly over the vehicle from front to back.
He walked closer to the SUV then, slow and deliberate, one large hand brushing lightly across the hood. He studied it with the same careful attention he gave everything unfamiliar to him.
“I have watched vehicles move through these roads for years,” he said. “But not like this.”
Something warm pulled through my chest at the quiet honesty in that.
Sometimes it still caught me off guard how strange Calder’s life had actually been in practical ways, not abstract ones. Centuries of watching humanity move forward without ever experiencing any of it for himself.
“The first ones were much slower,” he continued, circling toward the passenger side now. “Louder. They frightened horses badly enough that some towns tried to ban them.”
I blinked. “You remember the first cars?”
Calder glanced at me like I’d asked whether he remembered rain. “Yes.”
Right—ancient cryptid boyfriend.
Still not normalizing that anytime soon.
“The early engines smelled terrible,” he added. “Worse than this one.”
“Wow. You really know how to compliment a girl.”
“This vehicle smells significantly better than the earlier engines.”
I huffed. “Bessie’s feeling very validated right now.”
The corner of his mouth twitched.
Progress.
I rounded the SUV and opened the passenger door for him, then immediately realized I had not actually thought through the logistics of fitting Calder into my vehicle. “Well,” I said. “This suddenly feels ambitious.”