He was about to turn away from the loch when a voice cut through the darkness, making him jump out of his skin. ‘That was unwise.’
With soft, padded footsteps a wolfish silhouette emerged from the treeline as Lachlan spun round. Lachlan’s muscles instinctively readied for flight even as he recognised the shape to be a friend: a man with the head of a sleek grey wolf, wearing jeans and a dark hoodie. The Wulver stepped into the faint moonlight.
‘What— What was?’ Lachlan replied, heart pounding.
The Wulver stood with both hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie and nodded toward the loch. ‘Your carnal fraternising.’
Blood rushed into Lachlan’s face, heating his neck to his forehead. ‘Were you… Were youwatching?’
The Wulver snorted gruffly. ‘No. Ikeptwatch. For others who might pass by. You should know that I lured away a small troupe of youths with cameras.’
‘What?’
‘They were investigating the noise and would have stumbled upon you,’ the Wulver continued calmly. ‘So I enticed them far away with growls and other interesting sounds until one of them fell into a ditch.’
‘Oh, my god.’ Lachlan reeled, his mortification heating to furnace levels. On top of everything else, he and Cam could’ve beencaught. And oncamera!Doing… Oh gosh, doingthat. ‘Are they, um… okay?’
‘The boy has a broken leg but will be fine. Luckily his squeals of pain masked the sound of your final throes of passion.’ There was the edge of a smirk in the Wulver’s voice. ‘I gather you had a nice time.’
‘Don’t you go judging us,’ Lachlan warned. ‘I’ve been the same monster Cam is now, you know. I don’t expect you to understand.’
The Wulver huffed. ‘Why would I judge? I am a wolfman and a monster myself. At least, by human standards.’ He cocked his head. ‘But I think you are both very poor at keeping a low profile.’
Lachlan folded his arms to keep from fidgeting. The Wulver was right. They’d been reckless. But still, he wouldn’t take it back for anything.
‘We’re lucky you were around, then,’ he muttered to the ground.
‘Yes.’ The Wulver chuckled, a gruff sound that could be mistaken for a growl if you weren’t familiar with it.
Lachlan relaxed and gestured to the hill. ‘Cup of tea?’
‘Yes, please.’
They walked together, in a loose fashion, up the track. The Wulver tended to keep a few steps behind despite his longer legs, putting Lachlan in mind of a wolf stalking prey… or, if he thought beyond what his primate brain wanted to see, more like a person who was used to being wary of others. One thing he’d learned about the Wulver—Arran, as he had to remind himself to call him—during their sparse interactions was that he was, at heart, a watcher.
‘It’s good to see you,’ Lachlan offered as The Lucky Teapot came into view. ‘You’ve been keeping safe?’
‘Yes.’
‘No more trouble from those hunters?’
‘No.’
‘Are you here because you’ve found something?’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s good, then,’ Lachlan said with an upbeat tone that was more than a little sardonic. Arran was a wolf of few words when he considered the conversation unnecessary. ‘I hope you’ll share what it is, at some point.’
‘In good time. I would prefer to wait until the young witch is available to hear it as well. He should act on this news immediately.’
‘Ah…’ Lachlan paused in unlocking the door of the café. ‘That might be an unreasonably long time.’
He explained, over the brewing of a pot of tea, how Cam had entered his current predicament. The Wulver listened stoically; his canine expression was hard to read at the best of times. He emitted a disbelieving huff when Lachlan described how Cam had been dragged into the loch past a crowd of witnesses.
‘I suppose that is why the woods are still crawling with people at this late hour,’ Arran mused. He accepted a cup from Lachlan and watched him pour the tea. ‘You are especially lucky, then, that no one else was close enough to stumble upon you earlier.’
‘I’d appreciate if you could stop bringing that up,’ Lachlan mumbled.
