There had only ever been Serena, the girl I’d met in the seventh grade and had grown to know and love and eventually desire passionately. And God, I had wanted her. There was no doubt about that. Even after three kids, even after the trauma, I’d lost none of my desire for her.
But eight years after the accident, four after the divorce, and two of knowing she would climb into bed with her new husband every night, there had still been no one else for me, not emotionally, and not physically.
“I’m just not that guy, I guess.” Morrigan glanced my way, head cocked, listening. “I understand dogs way better than I ever understood myself.”
Another swig from the bottle made the stars swim in the inky indigo sky.
“Tomorrow we’ll head on home. Things will be simpler. You’ll see.”
I set my phone down and zipped my hoodie and down jacket. With Morrigan beside me and the other two settled in close by, I’d be plenty warm.
The whiskey in my belly helped.
Hades seemed interested in the goings on below—where the sand met the seashore—and Persephone stared deeply into the shadows of the trees.
Maybe because of all the years I’d had to be silent and stealthy, I hummed a half-remembered tune into the darkness.
After a minute, I found the words to the chorus. Something about weed, whites, and wine. The song was a particular favorite of Hades, who howled when I sang even on my best days. Soon, both he and Persephone were calling into the darkness. Morrigan joined in but only gave a couple dignified yips before snuggling back up to me and drifting off again.
The cold air rang with our voices long after we grew silent.
I understood wolves.
Hybrids were complicated, but I loved and cared for them. Dogs—Morrigan especially—had always done the same for me. I guess that night they sensed my loneliness and played along. I’d nearly drifted off when three sets of ears lifted and three noses sniffed the air coming from the trees.
The animals froze in watchful stillness.
I waited to see if the disturbance was a friendly human or an animal—maybe it was a raccoon. Morrigan’s tail gave a slow, rhythmic wag, which meant that someone familiar was approaching our camp.
I hoped it wasn’t Deacon, but if I had to, I could make up some bullshit excuse for why I treated Hades and Seph like unexploded bombs in public and teddy bears in private. It was on the tip of my tongue to play drunk and stupid, but the saunter of light footsteps made me reconsider.
“Well, well, well,” Sebastian called. “If it isn’t drunkDances with Wolves.”
“I can explain.” I sat up too quickly and my gut lurched.
He knelt and patted Morrigan, the traitor, through the kennel bars. “I bet that’ll be interesting.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Honestly? I wasn’t ready to go to bed, so I took the basket back and walked along the bluff for a while. Then I heard singing.”
“Busted.” I sighed.
“Are you going to sleep out here?”
“Tonight, yeah. Because of the stars.”
“I noticed.” He glanced up. “God, they’re bright. The moon’s looking pretty good too. Glad these two aren’t real werewolves.”
I pulled another three treats from my pocket and shared them out. “You and me both. It’s hell cleaning all the discarded human skin out of the kennels after they shift.”
“I sense a really good story behind this moment.” He smiled. “You have to tell me about it.”
His insufferable charm won me over yet again. “Come on in.”
He hesitated.
“It’s safe enough,” I said. “Word of honor.”
