Chapter 6
Meghan was not used to being comfortable in bed with another person.
Grayden had wanted very specific sleeping conditions, which included dictating her position in the bed, how many blankets they could have, and what kind of pillow she could use.
If she tossed and turned, he was cross with her the next day.
Even sleeping had been tense and full of fear.
So it was with a great deal of surprise that Meghan came awake in Fred’s—in Trevor’s—arms and realized she was happy there.
He was curled around her protectively, one arm loose over top of her and one ankle hooked around hers. He was breathing evenly near her ear, not quite snoring. Half of a fresh erection was pressed against the small of her back.
They were still on the floor, wrapped in a nest of loose blankets, sleeping bags, and couch cushions.
Meghan lay there a long moment, trying to make sense of her life through the layers of complicated emotion. After failing to find answers, she wriggled carefully out of Trevor’s embrace and got up to find her clothes and make coffee.
She came back from visiting the outhouse to find him dressed and trying to reassemble her couch.
“There’s coffee,” she said. “I usually go take a shower and have breakfast at Ruby’s.”
She poured him a cup, which he took black, and sat beside him on the couch. It felt very natural to have her leg against his.
“My name is May,” she told him. “Or, it was. I don’t feel like her anymore. But I’m not really Meghan.”
Trevor considered that thoughtfully. “I could call you Meg. It’s halfway between.”
Meghan thought about that and slowly smiled. “Yeah, I like that.” She turned to look at him. “And what about you? Have your memories come back with your name? Don’t need to go spend time at the mental hospital after all?”
Trevor gave her a cautious smile. “Maybe reserve judgment on the loony bin until you hear the whole story.”
Meghan chuckled. “I don’t know how it could be weirder than my story,” she offered.
“I’m a shapeshifter,” Trevor said.
Meghan reconsidered her statement.
“You might call me a werewolf, but it’s a term that comes with a lot of false baggage,” Trevor explained.
“Do tell,” Meghan said, sipping her hot coffee carefully. She surprised to realize that she wasn’t dismissing Trevor out of hand. Maybe all of her emotional upheaval over the past few days had numbed her to feeling alarm or disbelief.
“There is a wolf in me, and we can exchange forms at will. No full moon nonsense or silver allergies. I come from a family of such…ah…partners, and we live far to the north.”
Meghan refrained from pointing out that there wasn’t really much to the north of them here.
“Each of us has a destined mate, though not all of us will be lucky enough to find them. You are mine. A few days ago, I felt your grief and pain and I was compelled to come find you. I had been a wolf for some time, when this happened, and we tend to lose our human selves for a while. I apologize for frightening you.”
“You didn’t frighten me,” Meghan said, thinking of their strange meeting in the diner. He had been odd, but not overly alarming. Then she remembered the wolf across the stream that had startled her into dropping Sheppard’s ashes. “Oh.”
“You…believe me?” Trevor asked cautiously.
Meghan gave him a thoughtful look. “The wolf stuff, sure. Why not. But I’m not emotionally na?ve enough to believe in soulmates.”
Trevor gave a laugh that would have upset his coffee if it hadn’t been gone. He leaned over and kissed Meghan, a swift kiss full of unspoken promises, and she was sorry when he broke it off. “You are perfect,” he said sincerely.
“You don’t…need me to believe you?” It was a curious idea.
“I love you,” Trevor said solemnly. “I devote my life to you. I cannot force you to believe anything you don’t. I can only prove myself…by proving myself.”
Meghan lifted her chin. “And if I said that I didn’t want you?”
“Don’t you?” Trevor let a finger trace the side of her face.
“If I said I didn’t?” Meghan insisted.
“I cannot conceive of it. That isn’t how it works.” He was smiling slightly as he stroked her cheek.
“Try to conceive of it,” Meghan said firmly.
Trevor withdrew his finger, face going serious. “I would find another way to be in your life. As your friend if not your lover.”
“And if I didn’t want to be your friend?”
Trevor looked around, eyes falling on Sheppard’s dish. “I could be your pet?”
The idea was so surprising and the topic so tender that Meghan fell into a helpless slump of laughter, sloshing what was left of her own coffee onto her leg. It wasn’t hot, but she had to stand up to blot it off, grateful that it wouldn’t show badly on the heather of her denim jeans.
She glanced back at Trevor and paused. “You’re serious?”
He slid off the couch to kneel at her feet, much as he had when they first met. Or at least, when he had first met her in human form.
“I love you, Meg. I would give up my human self forever to be with you.”
Familiar tears were stinging at Meghan’s eyes. She wiped furiously at them. She was so tired of crying.
“I’ll…think about it,” she told him, voice shaking. “It’s a lot to take in.”
Trevor looked up at her, a smile on his gorgeous face that was tentative and full of longing. “I will wait as long as you need.”
No ultimatums to make up her mind. No pressure to choose the path he wanted. No criticism of her failure to do what he expected.
Meghan smiled cautiously back. “Are you hungry?” she asked, casting about for a safe topic. She couldn’t resist teasing, “I’ve got some dog food left…”
He stood abruptly and gently pulled her face into his hands. “So hungry,” he agreed.
Meghan leaned forward to meet his kiss, and they fell back into the couch, tugging at each other’s clothing desperately.