“It’s a glamorous life you lead, Sheriff,” I joke.
“You have no idea,” he lobs back, not missing a beat. “Do you need anything? I’ve got to go get cleaned up, but I wanted to check in and give you an update first,” Ellery asks as he pushes away from the frame of the door and steps back, ready to leave.
For a split second, I don’t want him to go. I quickly wrack my brain for a reason to keep him here and then realize how ridiculous that is and stop. What’s he going to do? He’s not in any state to sit and visit. And there’s zero chance I can let him strip down and use my shower.
No, brain.
Just no.
“I’m good,” I tell him, withdrawing back into my room while gripping the doorknob like it’s some kind of tether to sanity. “But I did want to ask…what’s your favorite color?”
Confusion flashes in his eyes before his lips quirk. “Well, before tonight, it was green. But—” He points a finger at the slime dangling from his ear. “I’m leaning more to green blue these days. I’ll let you know if it changes tomorrow.”
I bite down on a smile. “Okay.”
Ellery dips his head in an acquiescing nod and runs his eyes over me again, like he needs one more glance to hold him over until tomorrow. I feel a tiny bit crazy when I do the same, taking a deep breath and inhaling his patchouli scent while I mentally snapshot the way he’s an adorable mess.
“Night, Noah,” he offers as he starts back down the hall, eyes still locked on mine.
“Night, Ellery,” I reply, waiting until he’s disappeared around the corner before I close the door.
As Ellery’s footsteps fade away, I turn and lean against the wall, staring up at the ceiling, and a little shaky sigh escapes me.
Because even though I know it makes more sense for him to leave…it was on the tip of my lips to ask him to stay.
15
NOAH
SATURDAY
I pace back and forth behind the couch in the sitting area of my suite. Early morning sun is starting to peek through the windows, and I breathe through the itch writhing inside me. The one I can’t seem to scratch.
I think it’s official, I’m going stir crazy.
At the butt crack of dawn, I stole some supplies from a cleaning cart and scrubbed my room from top to bottom. I hoped it would help this restless feeling buzzing through my blood, but it didn’t. I feel like I’m going to crawl out of my skin.
Please don’t be Gannon. Please don’t be Gannon, I chant as I give up on pacing and stomp to my door. Something’s wrong with me and I hope whoever is out there can tell me what it is. In a non-asshole, non-guilt-tripping kinda way.
Red hair and amber eyes greet me when I almost rip my door off the hinges. Perth takes one look at me and shoots up from his babysitter’s perch.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s sitting in that room for three days with nothing to do but think, wonder, and watch reruns. Or maybe this is something wolfy, but I feel like I can’t sit still. And not in a there’s so much to do kind of way, but in an it physically hurts not to move way.”
He steps closer, tilting my chin back and examining me with a discerning eye. “Is anything achy? Any changes to your vision?” he asks, but I shake my head no. He drops his hand to my arm, lifting it and inspecting it more closely. “Does your skin feel tight? Any black spots or streaks popping up and then disappearing?”
“No,” I answer, my chest suddenly clenched, but that has everything to do with his proximity and the scent rolling off him and nothing to do with what’s wrong with me.
Why does he smell like safety, and how does an intangible feeling have a tangible scent? That’s the second time that’s happened.
“It’s your wolf,” he tells me evenly. “I don’t sense a shift yet, but it’s definitely stretching and getting a lay of the land. What do you usually do to relieve stress or burn off energy?”
My mind immediately takes a screeching turn into the gutter, but I course correct and force myself to think of more appropriate alternatives.
“Running is probably my go-to,” I tell him, and his expression brightens, elated.
“Let’s run then.” He steps back and drops my hand. That’s when I realize he’s actually dressed perfectly for a run in a T-shirt and sweatpants. Gray sweatpants. My throat dries out.
Shit. I really need that run.
“Am I allowed?” I question when he turns for the elevator like this is a done deal. “I thought I had to take it easy, or the block could hurt me?”
“It’s been a few days already. Imogen said it will wear off naturally, and shifters need to burn off steam.”
I reach back into my room and snag my key card before closing the door. Then I turn to face him. “Lead the way.”
The streets of Howling Rapids are filling up with people as we jog down the sidewalk, and in the morning light, I can see all kinds of things I didn’t on my first night here. There’s a pair of women with red eyes and fangs picking out blooms at a flower stand and chatting about blood pudding recipes.
We pass a small, old-looking graveyard where a few witches encircle a tall headstone. I’m not sure if they’re meditating or chanting a spell, because we’re around the corner before I can rubberneck.
Perth sets an easy pace, and we both fall into a steady rhythm. The crisp morning air feels amazing as I start to warm up, and for the first time in days, I feel lighter.
We run for a while, winding through town, jogging past all kinds of unusual shops and a lot of normal-looking places too. It seems every town needs grocery stores, a hardware store, and a mechanic’s shop.
Two streets later, Perth slows in front of a gym. I immediately wonder what it would be like to do CrossFit with a vampire, but when I look through the window, I realize working out must look very different to the eeries of Howling Rapids.
Inside looks like a dojo of sorts. There are mats everywhere and a massive agility course. I also notice what looks like bird perches up high and massive punching bags that look like they’re used for biting instead of boxing.
“This is mine,” Perth tells me, nodding his head to the front door where Gym has been hand-painted on the glass.
“Really? Are you a trainer or the owner?” I ask, looking around at everything a little more curiously. I’ve never been a big gym rat. I like exercising outside even when the weather sucks.
“I run a program for new shifters,” he explains, and I turn to look at him with surprise.
“Like me?” I ask, pointing a finger at myself like he needs clarification. Super smooth, Noah.
Perth smiles. “Sort of. I don’t get a lot of propellant bite cases after a Hunt, because newly bonded mates can be very territorial. But I work with all the kids who go through what we call a spontaneous shift—which means it happens on its own.”
“Oh wow, that’s pretty cool,” I tell him, astounded. “You’re a fancy gym teacher, only instead of playing dodgeball, you’re showing them how to fur, fang, and four-leg it through life.”
Perth laughs and starts jogging away down the street. “Yup.”
We run in silence for a minute, but I can’t help myself. “You’re really letting the town down on the name front, you know? Gym is the best you could come up with? I thought this place had a rep for clever business names to uphold.”