Chapter 29
RODERICK
“How are you good at this too?” Warner’s question comes out strangled because he’s managed to wrap a strand of yarn around his neck and he can’t seem to unravel himself. This is what happens when he attempts to crochet instead of sticking to his normal job of holding balls.
Zoey rolls her eyes as she moves to help her wolf, but when Warner grins at her, I spy a responding smile curling her lips. Assured my brother isn’t about to asphyxiate, I return my focus to my fingers.
Turns out, it doesn’t matter that I have larger hands because the little metal hook is doing all the fiddly crochet motions for me. And now that I’ve got the hang of the movement, watching my stitches build on each other is satisfying. Soothing.
The practice is almost meditative.
In response to Warner’s flippant question, I merely shrug a shoulder and grunt. Zoey explained each step clearly. It’s not my fault he’s easily confused.
The bar fills up around us, wolves drinking beer, playing pool, and some even swaying to music from the jukebox that Courtney insisted stay on. A lively night at The Rabbit Hole, and I’m crafting in the corner.
I don’t mind the setup.
The door opens again, and I think I catch a whiff of Thad’s aftershave, though it’s hard to pick up his scent through the bar-goers and being on the other side of the room from the entrance. The wolf will find his way over here if he wants to say hi.
How many more rounds can I hook before he does?
I haven’t even gotten through one when my wolf stirs, and I breathe in deep on instinct.
Lemons and paper.
A fragrance I never expected in this bar full of werewolves.
My chin jerks up, and there, through the crowd, I meet a set of striking green eyes.
“Juliet.” Her name is my exhale, as if I’m always on the verge of saying it.
“She’s here?” Zoey asks, craning her head to seek out her friend.
But the crowd shifts, and Juliet disappears. I stand, hoping a higher vantage point will help me locate the little librarian. To make sure I didn’t simply imagine her into existence.
But there she is, by the bar with Thad, handing Moose some cash, even as she stares around the space with wide eyes.
Without warning, a wide smile breaks across her face, and the sight is a punch to the gut. She’s so beautiful. Is she grinning for me?
But, no, a second later, Courtney is at her side, slinging her arms around Juliet’s and Thad’s shoulders. An accomplishment, seeing as how the man is significantly taller than Juliet. The moment the pair grab their glasses, Courtney drags them away from the bar.
Toward us.
“Are you okay?” Warner’s question breaks through my focus, and I glance down to spy a shit-eating grin on his face.
“Fine,” I grumble, slowly sinking back into my seat and considering what course of action I’m going to take if Courtney is not actually bringing Juliet to our table.
Whatever I would have landed on doesn’t matter because there she is, standing in front of me in her tight jeans and off-the-shoulder sweater that threatens to scramble my brain.
Pretty mate. Sniff neck.
I wish.
“I told you,” Courtney crows, shoving a finger at me. “Isn’t this the most glorious thing you’ve ever seen?”
I guess that’s one way to wingwoman me, but I’m not sure I appreciate being called a thing.
Thad chuckles, and Juliet blinks, her mouth parting on a surprised inhale.
“Are you crocheting?” she asks, and I struggle not to shiver at the sound of her voice.
Then I process her question, and my attention drops to the craft I’m still clutching. The neatly formed granny square Zoey instructed me how to make.
“I am.”
“Why?”
It’s just then that Warner’s words play back to me.
“How are you good at this too?”
And I realize I failed my mission.
“I thought I’d be bad.”
Her brow crinkles. “What?”
“I thought I’d try and be bad, and”—I wave at the wolves gathered in the bar—“the pack would see.”
Shock smooths out her lovely face, and she purses her lips in a way that makes them look even more kissable, if that’s possible.
“He’s really good though,” Zoey interjects, not understanding my goal in this endeavor. But I appreciate her support nonetheless.
Juliet stares at me for a long time.
Then she snorts.
Then chuckles.
Then full-on laughs, and the joyful sound is the sweetest music this bar has ever heard. Multiple heads turn to examine the human woman with interest, but one glare from me, and they turn away again.
“This is about the dancing, isn’t it?” Juliet asks, still giggling. “It’s about me.” Her voice softens on the last word.
“Yes.” Seems like every thought in my head is about her now.
She nods, her eyes going unfocused for a second, and then she sets down her beer and faces Thad.
“Do you mind if I talk to Roderick outside?”
I’m standing again before he’s done signing, “Go for it,” my pack mate wearing a smug expression that reminds me of my brother, who I kind of wish were still getting strangled by yarn.
Juliet heads toward the bar entrance, not checking if I’m behind her, sure that I’ll follow. Because of course I will. Outside, the fall mountain air is cool, and she wraps her arms around her torso for warmth.
I want to give her some of mine, but I settle for slinging my leather jacket over her shoulders, trying not to read too much into the fact that she accepts it.
Then I wait, reminding myself to breathe evenly.
Juliet widens her stance, as if preparing for battle. “If we’re going to date, there are going to be rules.”
Silence.
My mind goes blank, then whirls fast, trying to figure out this shift in the world.
Meanwhile, my wolf is chanting … Mate! Mate! Mate!
“Rules,” I repeat, the only word I can manage.
“Yes. Rule one”—she holds my eyes, hers fierce—“you cannot ask me about my past.”
Hope and dissatisfaction war in my chest.
“Nothing about it?”
“You won’t ask me about my name. Or where I lived before here. Or about the wolves that I used to know.”
I grind my teeth against the response that wants to push out. The argumentative words that would try to convince Juliet to change her mind. All that keeps them in is the knowledge that the little librarian is stubborn as hell and pushing her on this means that I don’t get her.
And I need her.
More than I need to know everything.
“Fine.” I concede. “We’re dating now?”
Yes. Yes, yes, yes.
“Rule number two,” Juliet continues, “I set the pace of our intimacy.” She steps close, the neon lights from the bar signs shining a rainbow on her face. “I know you’re in charge of all the wolves in this town. But I will be in charge of us.” Her stare holds mine, unrelenting. “I’m the alpha.”
Pleasure clenches deep in my gut, and my wolf whimpers.
Fuck, why are those words so hot?
I lean forward, putting my head level with hers. Then I tilt my chin and expose my throat.
“You’re the alpha.” I rumble the agreement, low enough so only she hears.
Juliet’s eyes pop wide at the position I’ve put myself in. The submissive pose I’ve taken.
“Am I supposed to bite your neck?” She reaches up to press gentle fingers to my pounding pulse.
Yes! Bite. The mate bite!
“You do whatever you want,” I say, voice strained from holding back a plea.
Juliet places a gentle kiss where her finger just was, then takes a step back. The soft gesture wrecks me more than a bite would have, and I have to swallow more than once as I straighten and try to find my voice.
“Any more rules?”
Juliet studies me for a stressful moment, and then she reaches forward, slips her hand into mine, and turns back toward The Rabbit Hole, leading me after her. Once more, I follow without hesitation.
“No more special rules. Just the normal ones, like monogamy.” Juliet pauses at the door, glancing over her shoulder at me. “If you’re my boyfriend, Roderick, then you’re mine.”
“Yours,” I agree, holding off the urge to scoop her up and kiss her senseless. That would break rule two.
She smiles. “Good.”
As the soft clasp of her fingers burns against my palm, I silently add …
And you’re mine.