Hunt Me! I Crave the Chase (Spooky Boys #3)

“Thanks,” I said, because it was easier now. Because I could breathe.

Mutt didn’t seem offended that it had taken me as long as it had to say the words. He just rumbled, pleased, his thick chest brushing against my back as he reached for the soap and began gingerly running his fingers through my hair. He didn’t have the best motor control—probably because he was normally in dog form, but he did well enough.

It wasn’t until we’d rinsed out the soap, and I turned around to return the favor that I saw what he’d done.

“You—” My words dried up, my eyes burning as I stared up at him. The stitches on my head tugged a little as I moved, but I barely felt a thing.

How could I?

When Mutt was towering over me, and there were hair shavings on his shoulders—and he’d—he’d?—

“You shaved your head,” I said, voice cracking.

“Hair grows,” he repeated, eyes dancing. “We can grow together.”

I kissed him then.

I kissed him and he tasted like forgiveness. He was warm, and lovely—and tingles zapped up and down my spine as our tongues met. His kiss was sloppy and wet, like he’d never done it before, even though I knew he had. He licked behind my teeth and along my palate, just to feel me—and I groaned, fingers biting into his hips for stability.

Lydia had taught me that compliments were only used to manipulate.

She’d taught me that there was no such thing as a white knight.

She’d conditioned me to expect punishment for failure.

She proved that people were bad, and shouldn’t be trusted.

She’d shown me a dark, ugly side to the world.

And Mutt…beautiful, sweet, lovely Mutt, was making her into a liar.

Unfortunately, I had to go home at some point. I took my laptop, my phone, and my heart with me. Mutt kissed me at the door to my apartment. Theo had dropped us off on his way to a pack meeting—because he was a total sweetheart. Mutt’s other brothers had been away over the entire weekend, and even though I was kinda disappointed I hadn’t met them, I was relieved too.

Mutt had informed me that Butters had been the one who had accidentally spooked me in the road, looking torn, like half of him wanted to beat his brother up because he’d gotten me hurt, and the other half of him recognized that it had been an accident.

I told him not to worry about it, and that had been that.

As Mutt loped down the steps, I didn’t mention the fact that I knew he was pretending to be my dog. Didn’t mention the fact that I remembered him. That I remembered stopping for gas in Colorado and feeding a stray dog. Didn’t mention the fact that I knew he’d followed me all the way to Elmwood. Didn’t do anything other than lean against the doorway, lovesick, watching him walk down the steps—barefoot—while he bolted into the woods.

It was a full moon.

I knew that.

So I wasn’t worried.

I knew he’d be back. I didn’t need to know everything about werewolves to understand that he’d need some time for the moon. That was common knowledge. So after a fitful night full of nightmares, I went to work as usual the next day. With dark circles and a churning stomach, I fielded off Avery’s worried glances and covertly tried to find books about werewolves and their mating habits when I wasn’t busy working the cash register.

“Yes, Mrs. Dougal,” I hummed into my work phone, flipping through the books we had stocked in the front. I was the one that had stocked them, which was why they had any semblance of order at all.

Avery’s shop was all dark purples and reds, draped curtains, and black wood. I hadn’t even known black wood was a thing until I worked here. There were plants shoved in every corner that could fit them, and it’d taken me weeks to get the storefront in order so customers could even find anything.

We mostly sold over-the-counter magic ingredients, basic spell and charm books, and supplies for the familiars that Avery rehabilitated and adopted out. My job was talking to customers and smoothing ruffled feathers—like now.

“No one told me there was an expiration date,” Mrs. Dougal’s voice was grating on the best of days.

“I am so sorry,” I hummed softly. “If you’d like to bring it in I am more than happy to get you a new bottle.”

“Really?”