Chapter Ten
“I could get used to this.”
Arrow leaned back in his chair, watching Flint demolish a plate of ribs with an efficiency that shouldn’t have been as attractive as it was. They were at a barbecue joint just outside Big Sky, their third dinner together in as many days, and Arrow couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot.
Flint glanced up, sauce on his chin. “The food or the company?”
“Both.” Arrow handed him a napkin. “Though watching you eat is its own form of entertainment.”
“Says the man who ordered the spiciest wings on the menu and didn’t even break a sweat.” Flint wiped his face, grinning. “Show-off.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
The teasing came easily now, natural as breathing.
Arrow had learned Flint’s tells over the past few days - the way his eyes crinkled when he was genuinely amused versus when he was being polite, how he tilted his head when he was considering something carefully, the soft pink flush that crept up his neck when he was flustered.
Arrow wanted to learn everything. Every expression, every gesture, every tiny detail that made Flint who he was.
The only issue was the mating pull. The moment they’d said goodnight and Flint had driven away with Storm, and then Python on the second night, and the night before it had been Devon and Wren, the ache had returned.
And it was getting worse, because now Arrow knew what it felt like to hold Flint’s hand, to hear him laugh, to sit across from him and just be together.
His wolf paced constantly in his head, whining and demanding and pushing Arrow to claim what was theirs.
Arrow had spent the last three nights lying awake in his hotel room, fighting the urge to drive out to the Alley and begging Flint to let him be closer.
He’d taken more cold showers than he cared to count, and his wolf had howled so loudly in his mind that Arrow was surprised the entire hotel hadn’t heard. It had definitely given him a headache.
But he’d promised to go slow and to let Flint set the pace, and he would damn well do it, even if it was killing him.
“You okay?” Flint asked, his voice soft with concern.
Arrow realized he’d been gripping his water glass hard enough that his knuckles had gone white. He forced himself to relax, to breathe. “Yeah. Just thinking.”
“About?”
About how much I want to kiss you. About how my wolf is ready to tear through my skin to get to you. About how I’ve never wanted anything as badly as I want you, and I’m terrified I’m going to screw this up again.
“Er…about how I don’t have anything to do tomorrow,” Arrow said instead.
Flint’s expression shifted – clearly, he’d picked up the lie, but decided to ignore it. He set down his fork and wiped his hands thoroughly before speaking. “Would you want to come to the gun range with me tomorrow?”
Arrow blinked. “Gun range?”
“Yes, it’s a private place, out past the Alley. I go a few times a week to keep sharp.” Flint’s fingers drummed against the table, a tell Arrow had learned meant he was nervous. “You could watch, or shoot too if you want. It’s not exciting, but…”
“Yes.” Arrow couldn’t say it fast enough. “I’d love to.”
The smile Flint gave him was worth every cold shower, every sleepless night…well, almost worth it. Arrow was working on being honest about everything.
/~/~/~/~/
The gun range wasn’t what Arrow had expected.
He’d pictured something industrial and sterile, all concrete and fluorescent lights.
Instead, Flint led him to a cleared area deep in the woods, backed by a natural hillside that served as a bullet trap.
Targets were set up at varying distances, some fixed, some on pulley systems that could be moved.
“Storm and Devon built most of this,” Flint explained as he unloaded his gear from his truck. “Python did the wards to keep the sound from traveling and to alert us if anyone gets too close.”
Arrow watched as Flint assembled his rifle. The weapon looked massive in Flint’s small hands, but he handled it like it weighed nothing.
“I know you’re a sniper,” Arrow said. “How long have you been shooting?”
“Since I was twelve.” Flint checked the sight, his movements methodical and precise. “I was small and weak, easy prey. Guns were the equalizer. They didn’t care how big I was, just how steady my hands were and how good my aim was.”
The casual way Flint said it made Arrow’s chest ache.
He’d spent the last few days learning bits and pieces of Flint’s past - the abandonment, the years of being dismissed and underestimated.
Every story made Arrow want to hunt down everyone who’d ever hurt him and show them exactly what a wolf shifter with a mean streak looked like.
But that wasn’t what Flint needed from him. Flint needed someone who saw him for who he was now. Someone who appreciated the strength it had taken to survive and thrive despite everything.
“Show me,” Arrow said quietly.
Flint glanced at him, something vulnerable in his expression, then nodded. He positioned himself, the rifle settling against his shoulder like it belonged there. His entire body went still, not even his breathing visible, and then the shot cracked through the air.
Arrow looked downrange, thankful he had sharp eyesight. The target at two hundred yards had a new hole dead center in the kill zone.
“Holy shit,” Arrow breathed.
Flint didn’t respond, just adjusted and fired again. Another perfect shot, this time at three hundred yards. Then four hundred. Five hundred. Each bullet found its mark without any variation at all.
Arrow’s wolf sat up and took notice. Flint wasn’t skilled, he was a deadly artist. His tiny, beautiful mate was a weapon, and Arrow had never been so horny in his life. He quickly adjusted himself, so it wasn’t too obvious, but damn…Flint was better than good.
Flint set the rifle down and looked at Arrow, uncertainty in his huge eyes. “I know it’s not everyone’s thing. The killing, I mean. Some people can’t handle knowing their mate does this for a living.”
“Are you kidding?” Arrow stepped closer, careful to keep his movements slow and non-threatening. “Flint, that was incredible. You’re incredible.”
The blush that spread across Flint’s cheeks was beautiful. “You really think so?”
“I know so.” Arrow wanted to touch him so badly his fingers ached, but he kept his hands at his sides. “Can I try?”
Flint’s face lit up. “Really?”
For the next hour, Flint walked Arrow through proper stance, breathing, and trigger control.
Arrow had shot before - all agency employees went through basic firearms training - but it was nothing like the private lesson he was getting.
Flint was patient and encouraging, adjusting Arrow’s position with light touches that made Arrow’s wolf whine with want.
Arrow’s shots were decent but nowhere near Flint’s level. It didn’t matter. Watching Flint in his element, confident, skilled, and completely comfortable, was worth every missed target.
After they’d packed up the gear, Flint hesitated by his truck. “There’s something else I wanted to ask.”
Arrow waited, recognizing his nervous energy.
“If you wanted to shift,” Flint said carefully, “you could do that back at the Alley. Your wolf could have a run in the woods. There’s plenty of space, and the wards keep everyone out.”
Arrow’s wolf surged forward at the suggestion, eager and desperate to be closer to their mate. But Arrow forced himself to think clearly. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
Flint’s face fell. “Oh. Okay, I just thought…”
“No, I mean…” Arrow ran a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself.
“I want to. You have no idea how much I want to. My wolf wants to be with you, too. But being that close to you, at your home, surrounded by your scent...” He met Flint’s eyes.
“My need to claim you is really strong, Flint. I promised I wouldn’t get too pushy about it, and I really don’t want to mess this up by moving too fast.”
Understanding dawned in Flint’s expression, followed by something that looked like relief. “I’m having similar problems,” he admitted quietly. “Every time you leave, it gets harder. My snake is demanding I bring you home and keep you.”
Arrow’s heart kicked against his ribs. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Flint’s fingers twisted together. “I’d like you to meet my snake first, though, before we talk about anything else. Because that might change your mind about me.”
Arrow frowned. “Why would it change my mind? You’re a shifter, just like I am - your animal side is a part of you.”
“Snakes are an acquired taste.” Flint wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Not all people can handle them. Some people think reptiles are disgusting or creepy. I need to know if you can accept that part of me before we go any further.”
The vulnerability in Flint’s voice made Arrow want to wrap him up and promise him that nothing could change how he felt. But words weren’t enough. He’d already learned that lesson. Flint needed proof.
“I’d love to meet your snake,” Arrow said firmly. “When?”
Flint looked up, surprised. “Now? If you want to follow me back to the Alley…”
“I’m fine to travel with you, if that’s all right.”
The smile Flint gave him was blinding. “Really?”
“Really.” Arrow gestured to his rental car. “Let me drop this off at the hotel and I’ll ride with you.”
/~/~/~/~/
Twenty minutes later, Arrow was in Flint’s truck, trying not to stare at the way Flint’s hands looked on the steering wheel or how the late afternoon sunlight caught in his blond hair. The drive to the Alley was quiet but comfortable, the kind of silence that didn’t need filling.
When they pulled up to Flint’s house, Arrow noticed the greenhouse looked even more impressive in person than it had the night he’d been caught on the porch. Plants pressed against the glass, lush and green and thriving under Flint’s care.