He didn’t have to ask what she was referring to. “Yes,” he answered, exhaling a long, painful breath. “I wished I’d run away with you all the damn time, sweetheart. I don’t think a night has gone by where I didn’t wonder what kind of life we would have been living if I wasn’t so damn scared.”
“I know it’s selfish,” she whispered. “I know that it would mean your pack lost out on you, but I wish we could run away now.”
Viktor couldn’t resist bringing their twined hands up to kiss her fingers. She wasn’t wearing gloves, perhaps because she’d picked up on how the sight of her retracted claws made him puff up with pride.
“They aren’t just my pack,” he steadily reminded her. “They’re yours now, too. If we ran then or we run now, they would miss out on us both.”
She let out a watery scoff. “They don’t even know me. It’s not me they’d miss.”
“Maybe not today, but you don’t know about tomorrow, or the day after that. You think that just because they don’t know you now, that you won’t matter to them as much as I do in the future? Families aren’t built in a day, Cam.”
He felt the tremor that ran through her. “I… I want to be part of it, Vik. I want it so much it hurts. I’m just scared.”
Her fear was his. He felt it deep in the heart of the coyote, who whimpered, helpless and confused. All it wanted was to soothe its mate, but there was no loving this problem away. They had to face this terrible moment together if they wanted the future they dreamed of. It was just exceptionally bad timing.
Just like every other part of their relationship, really.
If only she’d had a little more time to adjust to the pack, she wouldn’t feel this hopeless, he thought, gripping the steering wheel with his free hand until his knuckles were bleached white. She’d feel anchored, supported.
As it stood, there was no remedy for the rush. Trust could not be developed in a day, though she’d come damn close by saving his life. All he could do was promise her everything would be all right.
“What can I do?” Viktor cut a look at her, desperate for some clue to easing her fear.
Camille met his gaze and asked, “When we get back to the den, can I see him?”
Viktor’s heart jolted. His throat felt dry when he hoarsely replied, “It’s been a long time, but I’m sure I can make the arrangements.”
They held hands the rest of the way home, and when they slipped into their den, Viktor drew her in for a series of deep, drugging kisses. “Everything will be all right,” he whispered against her lips. “I promise, sweetheart.”
“I trust you.” The words skated across his lips. Even though they were shaky, he knew they were sincere.
“Good.”
Taking a step back into the living room, he began to shuck his clothing. His shoes came first, then his t-shirt. His jeans, briefs, and socks were discarded just as quickly, leaving him in nothing but his skin. Camille’s eyes roved over him hungrily. His blood heated at the sight of her pupils expanding, but he forced the lust aside. Temporarily.
“After,” he promised her with a wink.
And then the magic in his blood erupted.
Bone shattered and reformed. Skin moved. Fur burst out to cover a sleek new form, bigger than a normal coyote but thinner, more agile than a wolf. The shift only took a handful of seconds, but when it was done, Viktor gave himself over to the animal. He had waited long enough to spend time with their mate, impatient though he was. He had earned the right to take the lead for a while.
The coyote tilted his head back to look up at their mate, golden eyes fixing unerringly on her familiar face. The smell of wildflowers and honey and salt filled his lungs — the smell of home, of den, of pack.
His claws clicked on the tile floor when he padded closer, moving slowly, instinctively wary of scaring her off.
This wasn’t the first time they’d met. For a very long time Camille had been more comfortable with the coyote than the boy. That first time he snuck into the Tower to see her, he’d chosen to come as the animal based on instinct and the burning desire to see his mate through the coyote’s eyes. Twenty years later, he was still surprised he had been welcomed into her den even when he was rainsoaked and barely more than a cub himself.
Perhaps it was because the coyote never asked anything of her — nothing more than her presence, her touch, and her attention.
But it had been a very, very long time since they’d come face to face, and the coyote was wary of sending their mate running again. Though she wore their bite, he did not yet feel entirely secure in its claim on her. How could he, when he had been restrained from contact with her for so long?
Stopping barely a foot away from her, he slowly sat down. Careful to keep his posture nonthreatening, he let out a low, crooning sound and gazed up at her longingly. Do you remember me?
Camille sucked in a deep breath. He watched, ears twitching with concern, as her lower lip trembled.
“Hello, my love,” she whispered, slowly raising her hand. “It’s been a long time.”
The coyote whimpered as a deep ache resonated through his soul. He did not understand why they had been apart for so long, nor why she had continued to reject them. All he knew was yearning and loneliness, the pain of their separation a serrated blade in his heart.
Even so, the animal was not the man. To him, the past was done, the wounds of time already fading into distant memory. They would never be entirely forgotten, but he did not know hate, nor hold grudges.
My mate is here now, he thought, tilting his head into her tentative hand. All is well again.
And things got even better when she sank to her knees in front of him. This way, they were the same height. When he closed the distance between them, just as he used to, Camille shuddered and curled her arms around his neck. She buried her face in the ruff of fur there and inhaled deeply.
The coyote rested his chin on the back of her neck and rumbled a soft note for her. It pleased him endlessly to hear her purr back. Even though the fur she clutched was getting wet with tears, he didn’t care. He loved the sound of his mate’s unique purr almost as much as he loved the scent of her, the taste of her skin when he ran his tongue over her cheekbone.
They stayed in that position for some time, but eventually they ended up on the couch. Camille curled up with him under a blanket, one hand fisted in his blond-tipped fur, and whispered to him as she used to.
Once, the coyote had been her first friend. The boy had come second, though in their heart they were truly one being. But his mate needed the wild, unflinching acceptance of the coyote first, so it was what she got. Before she ever let the boy see her vulnerable, she told her secrets to the coyote, and let him wrap his furred body around hers in secret.
The longer he stayed with her, cold nose buried in her fragrant hair, the less he felt the ache of such a long separation.
His mate was safe now. He had given her a den that pleased her, and he would defend her from every threat. He won her. Someday they would have cubs, and their pack would grow, and everything would be as it should be.
Underneath the wild heart of the coyote, Viktor felt something taut and painful in his heart finally relax. For the first time in twenty years, he did not feel as though he was at odds with his other half. He did not need to fight the clawing loneliness and the heartbroken confusion. All he needed was right there, curled up against him.