Chapter 4 Caelan #2
The woman smiled, soft and knowing. “That’s how Harold used to describe me. He never stopped saying it.” She patted my arm again. “You treat her right, you hear me? Women like that, and if you don’t treat that girl right, she’ll find someone who will.”
I almost growled at that.
“I will.”
“And don’t be a coward about it. Tell her how you feel. Life’s too short for maybes.”
We finally reached the other side of the street, and I deposited the old woman safely on the curb with her bags. She thanked me profusely and patted my cheek with a papery hand, telling me to ‘go with my everything’.
So I did. I looked back at the grocery store just in time to see Riley exiting through the doors with her bags.
I resumed my observation from a safe distance, not at all creepy, like Thessa would call me.
We were three blocks from her apartment when she started walking faster.
I frowned. Her posture had changed. Shoulders tense, head turning slightly as if checking behind her. She’d noticed something…
She’d noticed me.
My wolf preened at the connection, pleased that she could sense his presence even without knowing what she was sensing. The mate bond was already forming, already pulling her toward me even if she didn’t understand why.
But my human brain kicked in with a very important realization.
I was scaring her.
She thought she was being followed by a threat, not me. Her mate, her protector. The person who would die before letting anything hurt her. She didn’t know that. All she knew was that footsteps were getting closer in the dark.
Shit.
I should back off. Should slow down, let her get ahead, give her space. That was what a rational person would do.
Instead, my foot caught on a raised crack in the sidewalk and I stumbled. Not badly, just enough to make noise. To make obvious, human-sounding footsteps echo through the quiet street.
Riley started running.
My wolf whined, distressed and guilty. We didn’t mean to frighten her - That’s when my phone buzzed. Thessa.
Thessa: I’m watching from across the street. Did you just trip?
Thessa: Did you just trip and SCARE YOUR MATE INTO RUNNING?
Thessa: This is the worst surveillance I’ve ever witnessed
Thessa: And I once watched Uncle Brennan try to spy on the Noctherion ambassador
So I was following Riley, and Thessa was following me?
I would’ve laughed of this shitshow if I wasn’t stressed the fuck out for making my mate scared.
I saw Riley burst through the door of the tattoo shop on the ground floor, disappearing inside, and I was left standing in the shadows feeling like the worst kind of monster.
Thessa: She’s inside. She’s safe. Now GET OUT OF THERE before someone sees you
I retreated to an alley across the street, pressing myself into the shadows. I watched through the tattoo shop window as three large men immediately surrounded Riley. One of them went outside, scanned the street, and I held my breath.
I moved to a mailbox, pretending to inspect it with great interest, angling my body away from the shop. The man looked right at me, but his gaze slid past without recognition. Humans had terrible night vision, and I was just a guy checking his mail. Nothing suspicious about that at all.
He went back inside. I retreated deeper into the shadows.
Thessa: Did you just pretend to check a mailbox?
Caelan: It worked.
Thessa: You looked like a man who has never seen a mailbox before.
Thessa: I’m going home for real now. You’re on your own. Don’t get arrested.
I watched Riley spend the next two hours in the shop, playing cards with the men, slowly relaxing.
Her color returned. Her hands stopped shaking.
She laughed at a story one of them told, her whole face lighting up with genuine amusement, and I wanted to know what was so funny.
I wanted to be the one making her laugh.
This was good, though. She had people who cared about her. Who protected her.
But they weren’t me, and that fucking bothered me. I wanted to be the one to care for her and her needs.
***
The next morning, Thessa found me in our rented apartment, surrounded by sticky notes.
“What the hell,” she said from the doorway.
I didn’t look up. I was on page one hundred and forty-seven of Riley’s book, and I had questions.
So many questions. The sticky notes were color-coded: yellow for “things humans apparently do during courtship,” pink for “things that seem anatomically improbable,” blue for “questions about wolf accuracy,” and green for “scenes that made my wolf lose its mind.”
There were a lot of green sticky notes.
“She’s talented,” I said, still reading. “The emotional depth of the protagonist is remarkable. And the alpha’s obsession is portrayed with nuance. Though I have concerns about the heat cycle mechanics.”
Thessa walked over and peered at my notes. Her eyebrows climbed toward her hairline.
“Did you annotate her entire book?”
“I’m on chapter twelve.”
“There are sticky notes on every single page.”
“I have observations.”
Thessa picked up a pink note. Read it. Her face did a complicated series of expressions that I couldn’t interpret. “You wrote ‘verify with Thessa if human females actually enjoy this.’”
“Well? Do they?”
“I’m not answering that.”
“It’s a legitimate question. The anatomy seems-”
“I’m not answering that.”
I finally looked up. My eyes were probably wild, my hair disheveled from running my hands through it repeatedly, and I was fairly certain I forgot to eat dinner. And breakfast. Possibly lunch, I didn’t know.
“I need to understand her, Thessa. I need to understand how she thinks, what she wants, what makes her happy. This book is a window into her mind. She wrote every word in here. It’s filled with her desires, her fantasies.
” I gestured at the book with reverence.
“This is the most intimate thing anyone has ever shared with me.”
Thessa stared at me for a long moment. Then she sat down across from me, pulled the book toward her, and started flipping through.
“Okay,” she said slowly. “I see what you’re doing. It’s completely unhinged, but I see it.” She paused on a page with three green sticky notes. “This scene has a note that just says ‘YES’ in capital letters.”
“It’s a good scene.”
“It’s a sex scene.”
“It’s a very good scene.”
Thessa closed the book and slid it back to me. “You need to actually talk to her, Ky. Reading her book isn’t the same as knowing her.”
“I know.” I pulled out my phone and showed her the screen. “That’s why I found her book club.”
On the screen was a social media page: Tipsy Pages & Midnight Kisses. There was a post announcing Thursday’s meeting at a wine bar. The theme was morally gray love interests who would commit murder for you.
I would absolutely commit murder for Riley. I was already planning several.
“You’re going to crash her book club,” Thessa said flatly.
“I’m going to attend her book club. Legally. It’s open to the public.”
“You’re going to show up with your annotated copy and your obsessive energy and she’s going to call the police.”
“I’ll bring wine. Humans like that.”
Thessa looked at me. Then at the sticky-note-covered book. Then back at me.
“Fine,” she sighed. “But I’m coming with you. Someone has to keep you from doing something insane.”
“I appreciate the support.”
“That wasn’t support. That was damage control.” She pointed at me with a stern finger. “You are not allowed to propose marriage during a discussion about fictional murder. Do you understand?”
“That seems like an oddly specific restriction.”
“Do you understand?”
“I understand.”
“And no growling at other men who talk to her.”
I didn’t have a good response to that, so I just turned back to my book.
Thessa sighed, long and suffering. “I’m going to find food. Actual food. Because one of us needs to maintain basic bodily functions while the other one has a mental breakdown over sticky notes.”
She left before I could argue.
I looked back at the book in my hands. At the words Riley had written, the worlds she’d created, the love stories she’d poured onto the page.
Thursday. I just had to make it until Thursday, when I could be normal, charming.
Not at all terrifying. Probably.