Epilogue 1
Carn
“What are you doing?” Naomi’s whisper made my ears flick even though I’d heard her approaching.
“Hunting,” I kept my voice as quiet as I could, all my attention focused on the tiny, shivering creature I’d found wedged between the side of the library and a trash can.
“Hunting?” She rested her hands on my shoulders and leaned over me. “You found a dog?”
Her loud exclamation sent the animal skittering back into the shadows and I sighed.
“Is that what it is?” I straightened from my crouch and debated grabbing the tiny thing. But it was obviously terrified and I couldn’t bring myself to scare it more.
“You can’t hunt a dog!” She lowered her voice when a pitiful whine emerged from the dog’s hiding place. “They’re pets, not food.”
I smiled at the worry in her voice and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
“I wasn’t going to kill it,” I assured her. “It’s much too small and scrawny to be worth eating.”
Naomi handed me her crutches and went to her knees, crawling slowly toward the dog and making comforting noises.
“It looks like some kind of chihuahua mix,” she murmured. “Poor thing is shaking like a leaf.”
“I’ve been trying to coax it out for an hour,” I said, wishing, not for the first time, I wasn’t so large. Noami had already gotten closer than I’d managed in just a few minutes. “I think I’m just scaring it more.”
“Oh, is the big alien freaking you out, baby?” she cooed in the same voice she used to use on me. “Come here sweetie, we’ve got food and water and a nice, soft bed you can share.”
The shivering animal crept toward her outstretched hand and a tiny pink tongue darted out and licked her fingers. Naomi slowly reached her hand around and tousled the half pricked ears on top of its head and the manic shivering eased a bit.
“He’s got a collar,” she murmured. “His humans probably got snatched by sytos and left him all alone down here.”
In another minute, the dog was in her arms, a scrubby little tail waving madly as she scratched under its chin. She caught the small silver tag hanging from its collar and squinted down at it.
“Hello, Chuck,” she cooed again.
It had been a while since I heard that voice from her and I couldn’t help the surge of arousal it triggered, even knowing it was meant for the dog in her arms and not me. Some of my fondest memories were of laying on my cot, Naomi in my arms, while she murmured nonsense at me.
“We’re keeping him,” she declared, reaching up when I offered my hand.
“I was the one who was trying to catch him,” I reminded her.
Her eyebrows rose.
“You want a dog?”
I cautiously reached out and stroked a finger over the tiny dome of his head. The dog shivered but its tongue flicked out the same as it had for Naomi.
“It doesn’t look very useful,” I admitted.
She grinned. “Little dogs are made for eating food scraps and loving on. They’re not really supposed to be useful.”
Her voice went soft again and she stroked the dog’s back.
“Isn’t that right, Chuck?”
A few hours later, Chuck was freshly washed, bloated with food and snoring loudly in the center of our bed. Naomi was curled up against my side, reading a book and I slowly reached out until my hand covered Chuck’s tiny body. He grumbled in his sleep and rolled until his belly was exposed.
I smiled to myself and let my eyes close. My mate nestled closer and for the first time in many years, I felt like I truly had a home.