Chapter 13
Jason
What just happened?
No, really. What the hell just happened?
I mean, sure, I know what nearly happened. I was there. My lips were there. My hormones were practically doing somersaults. But did I actually almost kiss Violet?
The moment the front door is shut behind me, something snaps in my chest. I don’t walk. I bolt. Straight through the side yard, lungs burning, vision tunneling. If I stay still a second longer, I’ll go back inside and do something stupid.
My body shifts before my brain catches up. Bones crack, skin ripples, fur bursts through as I hit the grass at full speed. I skid into the cover of trees, paws digging into dirt, breath coming fast and uneven.
This whole evening is rattling around my skull, like a pinball with new elastics.
I can still feel the heat of her breath, the softness of her mouth parting, the flutter of her pulse like a lure designed specifically to break me.
Being that close to her… God.
It was torture.
Pure, exquisite torture.
It lights a fuse under my self-control and dares me to pretend I didn’t smell exactly what she was feeling. What I was feeling.
I pace, agitated, ears flat, teeth bared—not in anger, but in want. In recognition. In something I am absolutely not allowed to voice.
I rake my claws through the dirt, trying to ground myself, but her scent clings to me, sweet and warm and maddening.
One second more in that kitchen, and I would’ve done it.
I would’ve crossed the line.
I would’ve tasted her.
And God help me, I still want to.
Those beautiful hands I noticed the first time I met her feel softer than I could’ve ever imagined, softer even than when they rub against my fur, when she touches my shifter skin without knowing what I am.
Helping her guide the knife while she was cutting damn near ended me.
The second her fingers brushed mine, the subtle scent of her citrus shampoo hit me like a slap to the back of the skull.
I thought my wolf senses were sharp before, but being in my human form and having her that close?
It was something else entirely. Everything about her—her warmth, her scent, her breath—slammed into me with a force that rattled my bones.
My senses kicked in harder than they ever have, like my whole body was tuned to her and nothing else.
Her purple dress, those silver sandals, her toenails painted a soft pink—every detail overwhelmed me. It was too much. It made me wilder in my human skin than I’ve ever been in full wolf form.
Her stuttering breath.
Fuck.
My stuttering breath.
I nearly came undone right there in her kitchen.
Buff and Froggy appear from behind the house.
I don’t know if Buff was giving me a minute or what, but I’m grateful—God, I needed it.
Still need it. My body’s a live wire, everything inside me vibrating with leftover heat and the ghost of her almost-kiss.
Froggy is still in wolf form, pacing back and forth like some irritated ferret with rage issues.
His hackles are up, tail stiff, eyes locked on me with a look that says he saw everything, or at least enough to lose his damn mind.
The moment he sees me, he lunges. “What the hell was that?”
He hits me so hard we skid across the dirt, his paws shoving into my ribs before he lands in a crouch, like he’s ready to bite my head off in whatever form he’s wearing.
I blink at him, even though we both know exactly what he’s talking about. “What was what?”
He shifts into his human form, just so he can gesture more dramatically. “You! In there! With her! Making goo-goo eyes and holding her damn hand like you’re in some fucking rom-com!”
I shift too. “It wasn’t—”
“Oh, it was.” He jabs a finger into my chest hard enough that I’m surprised it didn’t come out the other side. “This was a simple job. Simple. Lay low. Hide in plain sight. Get you out of the country. And now suddenly we’re”—he throws his hands up—“flirting with the bloody mark?”
That word snaps some primal part of me. Heat slams through my chest so hard my ribs ache, and my vision tunnels, narrowing on Froggy like he’s just crossed a line he can’t uncross.
“She’s not a mark,” I growl, the sound dragged from someplace deeper than my human throat. Deeper than bone. Straight from the wolf.
Froggy jerks back, eyes wide. “She’s not…? She’s not…?” He sputters like his brain is short-circuiting. “She’s literally a human who doesn’t know you’re a wolf pretending to be her damn dog!”
“We’re helping each other,” I snap, sharper than I intend. “She needs support. And I need time. We’re not using her.”
Froggy lets out a strangled noise—half groan, half scream—and drags his hands down his face like he’s trying to peel off the situation. “Oh my god,” he mutters. “You’re not just lovey-dovey. You’re delusional.”
His hands drop, and he points at me with the accusatory intensity of a courtroom lawyer who’s run out of patience and caffeine. “You’re falling for the mark.”
The words are a punch to the gut, and my wolf lunges in response—possessive, furious, wild. Not a mark. Not a mark. Not a mark.
I clamp down hard, jaw tight, but my pulse spikes anyway. Images crash through me: her soft hands, her breath hitching when I touched her, the tiny tremor in her voice when she whispered “fun.” Her lips parting. Her scent blooming against my skin.
Falling? I don’t want to look at that word. But my chest tightens anyway.
I take a step closer. “Call her a mark again. See what happens.”
“Boys,” Buff says quietly.
We both ignore him.
“You’re pathetic,” Froggy mutters. “And you’re one tail-wag away from forgetting why we’re even doing this!”
“I know exactly why we’re doing this,” I snap. “And it’s not to steal from her.”
Froggy freezes.
I stare.
He stares.
Buff looks between us like a Labrador trying to follow a tennis match—head swiveling, confusion written all over him.
“What?” I ask slowly, heat edging into my voice.
Froggy lifts his chin, defiant. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Something in me shifts. Slides. My wolf presses forward, coldly focused. I step toward him, my voice dropping lower than my human throat should be able to manage.
“Freddie,” I say, each syllable edged like a blade. “What did you take?”
“Nothing.”
“Try again. With the truth this time.”
He winces almost imperceptibly. I stare him down.
“Fine!” he snaps.
He stomps toward a fallen log, reaches behind it, and pulls out her tablet.
Her tablet.
The one with the JAWS program she needs for texts, emails, reading signage. That tablet is her entire lifeline to accessibility and independence.
My vision goes white at the edges, and my entire body goes cold, as if the fury drains the heat right out of my blood.
“You—” My voice shakes with the force of trying not to explode, not to tear into him. “You took that from her?”
Buff takes a step back.
Froggy swallows, suddenly looking a lot less defiant.
And I am one breath, one heartbeat, away from losing the last shred of control I have.
“You stole her accessibility tablet.”
Froggy turns his head like a petulant cub caught red-handed. “It’s not like she can see it’s gone.”
My vision blacks out. I grab him by the front of his shirt.
The next second, his back cracks against a tree so hard the bark splinters. Leaves shake loose from the impact.
“Don’t…” I snarl. The sound isn’t even animal. It’s ripped from someplace deep and ancient, a promise carved in blood and instinct. “…ever say that again.”
Froggy’s breath stutters. His pulse spikes against my grip, and I can smell the fear rolling off him.
Buff takes a cautious step forward. “Jason—”
I don’t look away from Froggy. Because something in me has snapped. Because that tablet is her world. The thought of her reaching for it and finding nothing, of being made vulnerable because of him, hits me in a place I didn’t know existed until tonight.
My claws prickle under my fingers.
“Say anything like that about her again,” I growl, breath hot, voice shaking with barely leashed violence, “and I’ll make what the Eustace crowd do look like Sunday school.”
Froggy swallows hard. He believes me.
He fucking should.
But that doesn’t cool the fury burning through my ribs. I turn to the tablet.
“That is how she reads,” I snap. “How she checks her mail. How she schedules rides. This is her independence.”
Buff swallows and adds, smaller than I’ve ever heard him, “Her… blindness stuff.”
“Yes, Buff, her blindness stuff.”
Birds scatter, mice and rats scurry.
Froggy looks away, jaw tight. “She’s loaded. She can get another one.”
I don’t answer. If I do, I’ll say something I can’t take back. The silence lands like stone, heavy and final.
We glare at each other, neither of us prepared to be the first to look away. I will stand here all night if I have to. He took advantage of the one place she can’t compensate. She deserves better than this.
Buff quietly stands over the tablet like it’s the code to an A-bomb, and for the first time ever, I see Froggy not as my friend but as the person who made her vulnerable.
Eventually, Froggy breaks the silence. “You’re too soft.”
“And you’re too damn reckless.” I snap back, hackles rising.
Buff steps between us. “Okay, okay, okay—group meeting!”
“Buff—” I warn.
“Nope!” he chirps. “Both of you shut up. Because we’re forgetting the main thing here.”
We both turn.
“Getting Jason out of the country,” Buff says simply. “That’s the goal. Whether it’s Canada or fake IDs or… or smuggling him in a crate labeled organic beef.”
“Please don’t,” I mutter.
Buff puts a hand on each of our shoulders. “We can’t screw this up by fighting. So Froggy, stop being a thief. Jason, stop being… whatever you’re being.”
“I’m being careful,” I say stiffly.
“You’re being involved,” Froggy mutters.
“And you’re being a criminal,” I fire back.
Buff sighs, long and loud and dramatic. “Jesus wept.”
I run a hand through my hair. “I’ll return as the dog. She thinks he went out with Buff.”
“And I’ll go fix the stairs at her back porch,” Buff says. “Maybe add a handrail.”
Froggy grumbles. “Fine. I’ll stay true to what I am. A wolf. Jace, why don’t you be a good dog and return her tablet. Wouldn’t want the blind human vulnerable. But do us all a favor and remember who you are too. That means not getting attached to a human.”
I don’t answer as I shift back into my wolf.
Because the problem is…
I already am.
I pad toward the front door, pawing softly at the bottom.
The door swings open almost instantly.
“Oh!” Violet gasps happily. “There you are! Were you out exploring? Come here. Are you feeling better?” Her hands find my fur with practiced ease, brushing through it gently until her fingers settle on the top of my head.
“I had the absolute best time with Human-Jason today. What did you think of the food?”
I don’t even go for my usual whine or anything. I can’t muster it.
She opens the door wider. “Come on in. Do you want to watch TV with me?”
I step inside, and she smiles at me with so much trust. It’s the kind of smile you don’t get often in life, one that’s meant for you, because she’s happy you’re there.
It hits me harder than it should.
One day soon, I’m going to leave. I’ll have to. The alphas will come. Or Froggy will get bold. Or someone will notice she lives with a wolf the size of a pony.
This isn’t permanent.
And yet.
I lie down next to her on the couch, head on her knee.
She laughs softly. “You’re such a good boy.”
No. No, I’m not.
I’m a man pretending to be a dog.
A fugitive.
A shifter with a bounty on his head.
And I’m falling for a woman who doesn’t even know what I am.
She strokes the fur between my ears and hums along with the TV.
My heart cracks, because I realize there will come a day very soon when I’ll never get to hear that laugh again. Never get to see that smile. Never get to feel her hand in my fur or her breath against my cheek.
And the thought terrifies me.