Chapter Nine #2
Not because he was frozen but because moving too fast would spook the impala. Whatever had sent a shifter crashing through his kitchen at this hour had already done enough damage to the poor thing’s nerves.
“Kenai,” he said, still not raising his voice, “take Tyler home. Lock the front on your way out.”
“But—”
“Kenai…”
Footsteps retreated. The front door’s lock clicked a minute later. Everything went quiet except for the low exhale of the range hood fans and the distant sound of a car pulling out of the lot.
Rio sat down on the tile floor, back against the prep station, and waited.
He’d worked with spooked animals before. Not shifters, specifically, but the principle held. You didn’t crowd them. You didn’t fill the silence with noise. You made yourself smaller than your actual size and let them come to the decision themselves.
What you didn’t do was examine the fact that your snow leopard had gone very, very still the moment you’d crouched down and looked into those pretty eyes.
His snow leopard watched the impala closely, then softly purred, anxious to rub his scent all over the impala.
The impala’s sides were still moving fast with labored breath. His tawny coat was damp with exertion, his legs now tucked tight to its body, one curved antler pressing awkwardly against the underside of the shelf. Blue eyes tracked Rio’s every movement with wariness.
“Take your time,” Rio said. “I’m not going anywhere.”
His closing checklist could wait.
Twenty minutes passed before the impala finally shifted.
Rio had been watching the tension bleed out in increments—the rate of breathing slowing, the legs relaxing their tight fold, the ears tilting forward instead of flat.
He’d learned to read those signals a long time ago.
When the impala finally moved, it wasn’t a panicked scramble.
It was an instantaneous shift, animal replaced by man.
The pull completely rewired Rio.
His snow leopard stilled, staring at the stranger sitting naked on the kitchen floor.
He was shorter than Rio. Slim, blond-haired, with an angular face. There was color in his cheeks from exertion.
The stranger was simply beautiful.
Rio picked up the towel he’d set down earlier and held it out without comment.
His mate took it, wrapped it around his hips, then looked up at Rio.
“Before you say anything,” the guy said, his voice still a little rough, “I want to note that I did not ask to be in your kitchen.”
Rio blinked. “I know.”
“And the potatoes were already in a precarious position.”
“They were not.”
“Structurally speaking—”
“There were twelve potatoes in a bin with four-inch sides.” Rio stood, moved to the cabinet where he kept the staff’s spare clothes—someone was always spilling something—and pulled out a folded pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt.
He set them on the prep station without making it a production.
“Put those on. Then tell me what happened.”
The man eyed the clothes. Then he eyed Rio. Something moved across his face that wasn’t quite suspicion and wasn’t quite relief, landing somewhere between the two.
“You’re a snow leopard,” the man said.
“Since birth.”
“Do you own this place?”
“Yep.”
“And you’re just”—he gestured vaguely at the clothes—“being cool about this.”
“Been in a lot worse situations.” Rio pulled out a stool from beneath the prep station and sat, giving his mate room to dress without hovering over him. “I’m Rio. In case you missed it.”
“Kevin.” He grabbed the sweatpants and turned away to pull them on. “Kevin Marsh. And for the record, I had a perfectly good plan tonight that did not involve any of this.”
“What was the plan?”
“Go to a club and hook up. Not get bitch-slapped by a wolf with a size issue. I didn’t sleep with him. He just seems the type.” Kevin tugged the T-shirt over his head, and Rio caught a brief glimpse of lean muscle. “But that’s the order things happened in.”
“Sit,” he said. “I’ll get you some food.”
Kevin turned around, his brows slightly raised. “You’d really feed me?”
“You’ve been running, burning a tremendous amount of calories. You have to be starving.” Rio was already moving toward the walk-in. “Park your butt.”
A pause. Then the sound of a stool scraping across tile.
Rio pulled out leftover roasted chicken, some bread, and a container of the roasted garlic spread that had been on tonight’s menu.
He got a plate together without fuss, heated the chicken briefly, and slid it across the prep station to Kevin, who looked at it for a moment like he was trying to figure out the catch.
“No strings,” Rio said.
Those two words must’ve been enough. Kevin dug in like a starving man. Not messy, just fast.
“Chew before you choke.” Rio leaned against the counter across from Kevin and drank the last of his cold coffee, studying this mate.
Why was Kevin acting as if he didn’t feel the pull? He was a shifter and should’ve felt it by now.
Rio set his coffee cup down. “The guy who hit you,” he said. “You know if he’s from around here?” He wanted as much information as possible. Kevin had said they’d just met, but there could’ve been more to their conversation.
After swallowing, Kevin said, “I don’t think so. Said his place wasn’t that far. We were at a club called Threshold, if that means anything.”
“It means he’s out of his territory.” Rio considered that. “Did he follow you here?”
“I don’t know.” Kevin glanced toward the door. “I heard them in the woods. Possibly pack members. Then I lost them when I hit the road.”
Rio ran a hand over his jaw. His mind was split between Kevin’s problem—now Rio’s—and the marvel sitting in Rio’s restaurant kitchen. Finally, after 274 years, he’d found his mate.
More accurately, his mate had found him.
“You can stay here.” He made sure Kevin understood he had a choice, even if he didn’t. Rio wasn’t letting anything happen to his little impala. “We’ll figure out if they followed you.”
Kevin stopped chewing. “I’m sorry… we?”
“You stumbled into my restaurant.” Rio kept his voice even. “Which means what happens is my business.” He wasn’t going to call out that they were mates. Rio was waiting for Kevin to acknowledge their bond.
Kevin stared at him. Then the corner of his mouth slowly curled. “You’re very bossy for someone who just met me.”
“I’ve been told.”
“I’m just saying, most people lead with ‘hi, how are you, lovely antlers.’” He picked up a piece of bread. “You went straight to staying here until we figure things out. Very alpha energy.”
“I’m not an alpha.”
“Could’ve fooled me, pussycat.” Kevin held his gaze, defiance in his baby blues. “Do you have a last name, or is it just Rio? Like The Rock?” He frowned. “That’s two, but you know what I mean.”
Rio found this deeply entertaining. His snow leopard couldn’t stop encouraging him to bend the impala over and fuck him until they couldn’t walk.
“Vasquez,” he said.
“Rio Vasquez.” Kevin nodded, apparently satisfied. “Okay. That’s a solid name. Very telenovela.”
“Thank you.”
“That wasn’t entirely a compliment.”
“I’m aware.”
Kevin dropped his gaze back to the plate, and Rio let him eat, the kitchen settling into comfortable silence.
Thirty minutes later, Rio walked the perimeter of the parking lot.
The night air had cooled to the mountain chill that settled in after midnight, carrying pine and wood smoke from somewhere up the ridge. His breath didn’t fog, but the temperature had dropped enough that the back of his neck felt it.
He’d left Kevin in the kitchen with the plate and strict instructions not to touch anything on the stove. Kevin’s expression suggested he had opinions about being told what not to touch, but he’d stayed put.
Rio moved along the lot’s edge, scenting the air. Wolf, faint but there, threading through the pine. They hadn’t come in close.
He checked the alley, as well as the road. Nothing moving, nothing watching from the tree line that he could detect.
When he came back around to the side door, Kevin wasn’t in the kitchen where he’d left him. Rio stood there, taking everything in.
The plate was empty and pushed to the side. The container of garlic spread wasn’t where Rio had set it, which meant Kevin had gone back for more of it. Showed his good taste.
Rio followed the sound of someone moving through the dining room.
His mate had claimed the window seat, the long bench beneath the glass that looked out over the street. He sat sideways with his knees pulled up, watching the empty road. The T-shirt was a size too big, slipping off one shoulder.
As Rio approached, he noticed Kevin tracking him through the refection in the window.
“All clear?” his mate asked.
“For now.” Rio pulled out a chair at the nearest table and sat. “They came close, but their scent was far enough away not to sound any warnings.”
Kevin nodded, still watching the street. “They’ll come. Izan doesn’t seem the type to let things go.”
“Izan?”
“The one who assaulted me.” Kevin’s fingers brushed absently over his cheek.
Rio curled his hand around his mate’s, his snow leopard growling for revenge.
Chapter Two
“The guy you mentioned. He your ex?”
“God, no.” Kevin turned from the window, facing Rio fully. “Just some asshole who thought four dollars of water bought him ownership papers.”
Standing, Rio moved closer to the window seat. Kevin watched him.
“You need anything?” he asked, knowing it was a broad question.
“I need a lot of things.”
Rio waited for his mate to gather his thoughts.
Kevin looked at him for a long moment. “Honestly? A place to crash that doesn’t involve going back to my apartment where they might be waiting.”
“My office has a couch,” Rio said.
“Your office.” Kevin’s eyebrows rose. “Not your house?”
“You looked exhausted. I was only trying to make things as easy as possible for you.” Rio gazed out the window. The moment felt too surreal. He still couldn’t get over the fact his mate was sitting a few feet away.