Chapter 14
In Tune
Dodger
The guitar comes to life in my hands. I tune the strings, running my fingers over each one, feeling the subtle vibration of magic humming beneath my touch. We said goodbye to Marlow and Iggy and are back in the hotel. Melody’s tail thumps against the bed beside me as she supervises.
The door clicks open and Harper strides in, dragging a folding cot that looks about two sizes too small for his tall frame. He sets it down with a clatter.
“We’re leaving first thing in the morning,” he says. “I’ll sleep on this tonight. Just a precaution.”
I nod. Rowan knows I’m alive and exactly where we’re staying.
We checked into a different room—for the third time—and I wonder what the staff thinks of us playing musical hotel rooms. It’s a precaution, though the chances of Rowan attacking tonight are slim.
The chief has weak magic and just found out I’m alive and have a werewolf bodyguard, so he shouldn’t be ready to attack immediately.
Even though the chief’s still playing innocent, Harper’s not taking chances with us in separate rooms. Can’t say I mind the protection, though I’d never admit it out loud.
“Whatever you say, Detective,” I reply, focusing on the guitar to hide the sudden flutter in my chest. Having a werewolf bodyguard for the night isn’t the worst thing that’s happened this week.
Harper’s gaze shifts to Melody, who’s sprawled across the pristine bedspread like she owns it. His jaw tightens.
“Off,” he commands, pointing to the floor. “No dogs on the bed.”
Melody doesn’t even twitch an ear in acknowledgment.
“You aren’t in charge here,” Harper tells her sternly, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Get off the bed.”
I strum a chord, amused. “Your tough cop routine isn’t working on her.”
“Don’t let her get any ideas,” Harper says defensively. “She needs to be reasonable. No bothering the neighbors or begging for walks at 2 AM or shedding on the furniture.”
“Melody is in her ghost form,” I point out, rolling my eyes. “She doesn’t shed!”
“Doesn’t matter. Rules are rules,” he insists, moving closer to the bed. “Off. Now.”
Melody raises her head, her glowing eyes meeting Harper’s in what I immediately recognize as a challenge. A supernatural standoff between a werewolf detective and a spectral hound from the underworld, all over hotel bed privileges.
“I’m not going to say this again,” he growls, and I swear I can see the wolf just beneath his skin, straining to break free. His entire body has gone rigid, his golden eyes never leaving Melody’s red ones.
Harper’s eyes suddenly flare with a glowing gold color, and a deep, primal growl tears from his throat, nothing human about it. It sends a shiver racing down my spine, my fingers freezing on the guitar strings. Holy shit.
Melody’s ears flatten against her skull, and she lets out a startled yelp that sounds more like a frightened puppy than a fearsome hound of the underworld. In a blink, she’s off the bed, diving straight through the wall as she runs away.
“Oh my god, that was silly,” I say, trying to ignore the way my heart is racing. It’s not from fear.
Harper straightens, his eyes fading back to their normal gold. He looks oddly satisfied as he smooths down his shirt. “It’s how dogs think. You have to establish dominance or she’ll think she can do whatever she wants.”
“Are you saying you’re a dog?” I ask, unable to keep the amusement from my voice.
“No, but I spend time as a wolf and know how they think.”
“Uh-huh.” I set the guitar aside, watching as he begins setting up the cot.
I pull my knees up to my chest and wonder how to convince him not to do the gentlemanly thing and take the cot for himself. The metal frame and thin mattress won’t be comfortable for anyone, but at least I can fit on the thing without my feet or shoulders hanging off.
Or we could just share the bed… Is there a platonic way to share a bed with your mate? Doubtful. Do I want to platonically share a bed with Harper? That’s looking pretty doubtful, too.
I offer him a smile when he finishes with the cot. “Thanks for the guitar.”
“No big deal. I promised to do what I could to help.”
“Well, it feels right.”
Unlike this little dance we’re doing now. He’s standing there like he doesn’t know whether to sit down beside me or maintain his distance. The space between us feels charged, like we’re both waiting for the other to make a move, but neither of us knows the right steps to this particular dance.
“Glad I could help.” Harper takes a half-step toward the bed, then stops himself, hovering awkwardly in the middle of the room. He turns and glances at the cot, then he scowls, since it’s not the most appealing choice.
Might as well address the elephant in the room.
“Look, if we’re spending the night together…”
“We’re just going to be in the same room, Dodger. I’ll be on the cot. Like before, with one less wall.”
“Whatever,” I huff. “While we’re sharing a room, we should probably talk about the whole ‘mates’ thing sometime. You haven’t said much about that.”
Harper goes still, a werewolf statue in the middle of the room. “You weren’t very receptive to the idea,” he says carefully.
Wow, called out immediately. “I was surprised! Learning about a mate is a huge revelation.” I shake my head, feeling defensive. “Bet I was the last person you were expecting, right? Did you ever expect to end up with a necromancer?”
His head shakes, just once. “That’s true.”
Oh crap. Why did I have to bring that up now? I can’t tell what he’s thinking.
“To tell you the truth,” he says slowly, slow enough that I finally have to look up and meet his even stare. “The age difference was what really threw me for a loop.”
I blink at him. “Because you’re a dirty old wolf robbing the cradle?”
He snorts. “Because you’re a punk who’s barely old enough to drink.”
“Hey! I’m twenty-one.”
“Like I said.” Harper smirks. “Barely able to drink.”
“Okay, so we both had some surprises. I needed a minute to adjust.”
Harper takes a step closer, his expression unreadable. “What are you saying? Have you... adjusted?”
I fiddle with my guitar pick, trying to organize my thoughts.
“It’s still kinda hard to wrap my head around.
” Too big for a guy running for his life who’s just starting to figure out his powers.
All I know is that using the guitar feels way more right than the whip ever did.
And trying to push him away never feels good.
Maybe I should stop. “But if you don’t mind taking it one step at a time. ..”
Harper moves closer, the bed dipping slightly as he finally sits down beside me. “Don’t mind at all,” he says.
“Okay,” I say, suddenly aware of how dry my mouth has become.
We drift closer until our lips meet in a slow kiss.
Slow and gentle isn’t really my jam, but the way Harper does it has me going hot all over.
His tongue slides in and traces over every inch of my mouth, and his stubble scrapes against my skin in the best way.
He holds my face so tenderly in one large hand, though I also wonder what he could do if he grabbed my hair and yanked.
I lean into him, my guitar pick falling forgotten onto the bedspread as my hands find purchase on his shoulders. Harper’s thumb traces my jawline as his other hand finds the small of my back, drawing me closer.
When I pull back, Harper eyes me like a starving wolf before a mouth-watering steak, his heated gaze making my cock twitch in my jeans. I must look just as eager.
“Looks like we don’t need the cot after all,” I say.
“Are you sure?” He blinks. “We’re on the sex step?”
“I sure hope so.” To make the point, I climb onto his lap.
“Works for me,” he says with this sexy little growl and his lips crash against my own once more.