Chapter Eleven
Flint guided Arrow toward the gathering of benches near the grill pit, where smoke rose in lazy spirals, and the scent of searing meat filled the air. Calvin and Levi stood at their twin grills, massive forms backlit by flames, arguing good-naturedly about marinade techniques.
“It’s the brown sugar that makes the difference,” Calvin insisted, flipping a rack of ribs with practiced ease.
“You’re out of your mind,” Levi shot back. “The acid in the apple cider vinegar is what breaks down the fibers. That’s basic chemistry.”
“Since when do you know chemistry?”
Storm appeared at Flint’s elbow, pressing a cold beer into his hand. “Your wolf looks less like he’s about to combust.”
“He’s trying really hard,” Flint admitted quietly.
“Good.” Storm watched Arrow through narrowed eyes. “He screws up again, and I’ll eat him.”
“You’ll have to get in line behind Pax.”
Pax materialized on Flint’s other side. “I’ve been workshopping new curse ideas - Storm got me a whole stack of books about them. Did you know there’s a spell that means I could potentially make someone’s fingernails grow backward?”
“That sounds horrifying,” Flint said.
“Thank you.” Pax beamed. “I’ve been practicing on getting the words right and combining them with my magic. Storm said I could try it on the next person he’s sent to dispatch. Such fun, being with an assassin.”
Arrow settled onto the bench beside Flint, close enough that their thighs touched but not crowding. Devon tossed him a beer, which Arrow caught one-handed.
“So you’re a desk jockey,” Devon said, dropping onto the bench across from them. Wren curled against his side, watching Arrow with those color-shifting eyes.
“Was,” Arrow corrected. “I worked cybercrimes. Mostly financial fraud, identity theft, and that sort of thing.”
“Sounds boring as hell,” Calvin called from the grill.
Arrow laughed, and the sound surprised Flint at how genuine and unguarded it was. “It absolutely was. I spent most of my time staring at spreadsheets and waiting for warrants to clear.”
“And you arrested bankers,” Cyrus added, wandering over with Python draped across his shoulders. The demon looked thoroughly unimpressed with the entire gathering, but Flint knew that was his default bitch face - he loved everyone in the Alley.
“It was tax evaders mostly.” Arrow took a pull from his beer. “White collar criminals who thought they were too smart to get caught.”
“Were they?” Wren asked softly.
“Not smart enough to avoid me.” Arrow’s grin was sharp. “I was very good at my job.”
“Past tense,” Python observed.
“Past tense,” Arrow agreed. He glanced at Flint, something vulnerable flickering across his face. “I’m hoping to find a new line of work.”
Calvin appeared with a platter piled high with ribs, chicken, and what looked like an entire brisket. Levi followed with another load of food. The two bulls laid out the feast on the long wooden table Flint knew they’d built themselves.
“Eat,” Levi commanded.
No one argued.
Flint watched Arrow navigate the chaos of dinner - Storm and Pax bickering over the last piece of chicken, Devon stealing food off Wren’s plate while Wren pretended not to notice, Calvin and Levi arguing about the correct heat for cooking beef in comparison to pork while simultaneously demolishing half the brisket.
Python complaining about a drop of barbecue sauce on his shirt, and Cyrus telling him to stop being dramatic.
Arrow laughed at Storm’s terrible joke about a wolf shifter who walked into a bar.
He complimented Levi’s dry rub technique.
When Pax made a pointed comment about wolves who didn’t appreciate what they had, Arrow met the pixie’s eyes and said simply, “You’re right. I didn’t. I’m trying to do better.”
Pax studied him for a long moment, then nodded once. “Good.”
He fits, Flint realized with a jolt. He actually fits here.
Three weeks ago, Arrow had been a stranger in an expensive suit, treating Flint like a decoration. Now he sat in jeans and a Henley, laughing with assassins and taking teasing from a pixie without his ego getting bruised. The change was startling.
Because he’s not performing anymore, Flint realized. He’s not trying to be the wolf he thought everyone wanted him to be.
Arrow caught Flint watching and raised an eyebrow in silent question. Flint just smiled and stole a rib off Arrow’s plate.
“Thief,” Arrow accused without heat.
“Sniper privileges.”
“That’s not a thing.”
“It is now.”
Devon leaned back on his bench, one arm around Wren. “So what’s your plan, wolf? You quit your job, moved to the middle of nowhere. What comes next?”
Arrow’s fingers tightened on his beer bottle. “Honestly? I have no idea. I’ve spent the last decade building a career I thought I wanted. Turns out I was just trying to prove something to people who don’t matter anymore.”
“Your pack?” Storm asked.
“My family.” Arrow’s jaw tightened. “I left Wyoming to get away from them. I spent years building a perfect image of success so I could rub it in their faces next time I saw them. Fancy apartment, important job, connections in the agency, the whole nine yards.” He shook his head.
“Except I never went back home - I never wanted to. And none of it made me happy.”
Flint’s snake stirred, wanting to offer comfort. He pressed his thigh more firmly against Arrow’s, a small touch of reassurance, and was pleased to see Arrow’s shoulders relax slightly.
“I’m done living for people who never cared about me in the first place. I want to figure out what I actually want.”
“That’s mature as hell,” Calvin said, surprising everyone. “Good for you.”
Levi nodded. “Takes guts to start over.”
The conversation drifted to easier topics - Devon’s latest job, Storm’s plans to buy Pax a sewing machine so he could help Wren make clothes that suited them.
Calvin and Levi talked about their newest woodworking project, and through it all, Arrow asked questions and listened, actually engaged rather than just waiting for his turn to talk.
Flint found himself imagining Arrow in his life.
Really in it, not just visiting. Arrow watching his back on jobs, patient and steady, and perhaps with a rifle of his own.
Arrow in the greenhouse, learning which plants needed more water and which ones preferred shade.
Arrow here at the grill nights, part of the family Flint had built for himself.
He could have hobbies, Flint thought. It’s not like he needs to work for money, and it sounds like he’s never had the chance to figure out what he likes, what makes him happy beyond work.
The image settled into Flint’s chest, warm and right in a way that terrified him.
Once the food was gone, one by one, the others drifted off to their own houses.
Storm and Pax first, after Pax started yawning against Storm’s shoulder.
Devon and Wren went next, Wren’s hand tucked into Devon’s back pocket.
Calvin and Levi went to clean the grills, leaving Flint and Arrow alone on the bench with Python and Cyrus.
“We’re heading out too,” Cyrus announced, standing and stretching. Python made a disgruntled sound but allowed himself to be hauled to his feet.
“Behave yourselves,” Python said, pointing at Arrow. “You make him cry again, and I’ll send you somewhere unpleasant.”
“I believe you,” Arrow said quietly.
After they left, silence settled over the Alley. The scent of cooked meat and woodsmoke lingered in the air. Above them, stars scattered across the sky in a brilliant display impossible to see in the city.
Arrow tilted his head back, staring up at the constellations. “I’d forgotten how many stars there are out here.”
Flint looked up, too, picking out familiar patterns. “Light pollution is terrible in cities.”
“It’s not just that.” Arrow’s voice was soft. “I’ve been so focused on climbing the ladder, proving myself that I never stopped to actually look at anything.” He turned to face Flint. “I’ve never felt peace like this before. Just sitting here, with you, watching the stars.”
Flint’s heart stuttered. “You might get bored after a while. We all prefer the quiet life when we’re home.”
“I don’t think I would.” Arrow’s fingers drummed against his thigh, nervous energy bleeding through. “I’ve actually been thinking about hobbies.”
“What sort of thing would you do?” Flint genuinely wanted to know.
“Calvin and Levi mentioned they could teach me a bit about woodworking, if I was interested. I’ve never done anything like that, but working with my hands and actually creating something tangible instead of just digital files, does appeal.
” Arrow glanced at him. “And I’ve always wanted to try writing.
Maybe short stories or something - turning some of the cases I’ve been on into fiction.
I don’t know if I’d be any good at it, but I’d like to find out. ”
The careful hope in Arrow’s voice did something to Flint’s chest. Arrow in that moment wasn’t the arrogant wolf who’d dismissed him at the bar.
This was someone trying to build a real life, someone imagining a future that included lazy evenings, and personal projects, and time to discover what brought him joy.
Someone who wants to be here, with me, Flint realized, in this quiet corner of Montana. The fact that Arrow had actively been thinking about it was the final piece of the puzzle.
He’s not staying in the guest room, Flint realized. The knowledge settled over him like certainty. Not tonight. Probably not ever. His snake agreed, coiling tight with want.
Flint stood abruptly, holding out his hand. “Come on.”
Arrow blinked up at him. “Where…”
“My house.”
Arrow took his hand, fingers wrapping around Flint’s with careful pressure. He didn’t ask questions, just followed as Flint led him across the clearing to the small house with the greenhouse out back.
Inside, Flint’s hands shook slightly as he closed the door.
His heart was hammering loud enough to wake a band, and Flint was sure Arrow could hear it.
Arrow stood in the middle of the living room, surrounded by Flint’s plants and books and the life he’d built for himself, looking like he belonged there.
Because he does. Flint knew that now. He belongs here. With me.
Crossing the distance between them in three steps, Flint pressed himself close, tilting his face up, one hand fisting in the soft fabric of Arrow’s Henley.
“Flint?” Arrow’s voice was rough. “Are you…”
“Kiss me,” Flint demanded.
Arrow groaned, a broken sound of relief as the scent of arousal thickened between them. His hands were soft as they came up to cup Flint’s face, and then Arrow bent his head, and moving incredibly slowly, lowered his mouth to Flint’s.
The kiss was everything Flint had imagined and nothing like he’d expected. Soft at first, questioning, giving Flint every opportunity to pull away. But when Flint pressed closer, when he opened his mouth and sucked on Arrow’s bottom lip, the kiss changed.
Arrow made a sound low in his throat and pulled Flint flush against him. The hand on Flint’s face slid into his hair while the other wrapped around his waist. Arrow kissed him like he was drowning and Flint was air, like he’d been waiting weeks for this moment and planned to make it count.
Flint’s snake hissed approval, coiling tight with satisfaction. Mine, it whispered. Ours.
Arrow tasted like beer and wood smoke and something uniquely him, that special something that made Flint’s head spin. When Arrow’s tongue swept into his mouth, Flint’s knees went weak. He clutched at Arrow’s shoulders, hanging on while Arrow kissed him with single-minded intensity.
They broke apart, gasping. Arrow rested his forehead against Flint’s, breathing hard.
“I’ve been dreaming about that,” Arrow confessed roughly.
“Just kissing?” Flint managed.
“Among other things.” Arrow’s laugh was shaky. “But I promised I wouldn’t push, so…”
Flint kissed him again, swallowing whatever Arrow had been about to say.