The Mating Game by Lana Ferguson - 11

“Today we’re going to be tearing up this old carpet. I think once it’s gone the room is going to look like an entirely new space already!”

Kyle pans around to show the entire floor, and I go through the motions of explaining everything we’re about to do as I try not to focus on the fact that I watched Hunter walk through this room to the back deck not half an hour ago.

Which is a problem because…I can’t look at him.

It’s been three days since the Incident, as I’m calling it in my mind, and every time I catch a glimpse of Hunter, be it passing in the hallway or sitting across the dinner table, I can’t seem to look him in the eye.

I tell myself that this is a reasonable response to approaching a veritable stranger while being high on sex hormones and begging him to touch you only for him to outright reject you, but it doesn’t make it any less awkward. I know deep down that Hunter didn’t reject me—I know that. If anything, I’m grateful for the way he…handled things. Had he actually given me what I begged for, I’d probably be halfway across the country right now, wallowing in my mortification.

I can smell how fucking wet you are.

God. Is that a wolf thing? They really should print up some better pamphlets.

I can’t remember everything that was said between us that night, but the flashes I do remember are…a lot. Fuck, I can’t even lie down in bed at night without scattered memories of Good girl and Touch yourself flitting through my thoughts.

It’s enough to make my current working conditions…strained.

Beyond my mortification is a sense of overall aggravation at having been seen like that—vulnerable, needy—for the first time in a long time. And in the most carnal way, I needed someone. I can’t pretend I’m not grateful to have lucked out, to have that person be Hunter, who took care of me in a way that minimized my humiliation as much as he could. Come to think of it…I haven’t thanked him for that. It really seems so ludicrous, thanking someone for what happened.

“You gonna just stand there looking at that carpet or do you wanna help tear it up?” Chase asks when we’re done filming.

I shoot a scowl at my brother, but Chase only gives me his usual lopsided grin. He’s the baby of the family and looks more like me than Thomas, which means it’s like looking at a less-stressed version of myself currently smirking at me.

“I was thinking,” I tell him.

He chuckles under his breath, handing me a hammer. “Been doing a lot of that the last couple of days.”

“Well, I have a lot on my mind.”

“Both of you shut up so I can get a good clip of this,” Kyle grumbles, steadying his camera.

Kyle is a mix of all of us—my brown hair, Mom’s blue eyes, and Dad’s stubborn brow. He’s also the only one who knows his way around the camera, so we try not to piss him off.

“Hey,” Thomas cuts in, entering the room from the foyer. “Anyone seen the boss? I swear that guy is like a vampire or something.”

Thomas looks more like our mom; his blond hair has the same slight waves that hers does, and his blue eyes are to die for and a constant source of my envy. Much prettier than my dirt-brown ones.

I cock my head. “A vampire?”

“Yeah, dude only seems to come out of his room at night. Think I caught a glimpse of him hanging from the rafters while I was checking out the pool table last night.”

“He’s not a vampire,” I say, rolling my eyes. “But he’s not very keen on this project.”

Not to mention the fact that I begged him to fuck me three days ago.

But of course I don’t say that.

“I need the green light on what color stain he wants for the new mantel,” Thomas says.

“But we’re not supposed to start that until next week,” I point out.

Chase is frowning. “What do you mean, he isn’t keen on the project?”

“I mean…” I trail off, throwing up my hands. “You talked to him. Did he seem very excited?”

“I just thought it was a vampire thing.”

“Vampires aren’t real,” Kyle says matter-of-factly.

Thomas’s brow wrinkles. “Wolf people are real, why can’t vampires be real?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. I love my brothers, but sometimes herding them through a job is like taming feral opossums. They’re too much like our mom—which is to say that they take free-spirited to new heights. Of course it would fall to me to be our dad’s carbon copy—too serious, a workaholic, and, if any of the Tinder dates I’ve had in the last year are to be believed, no fun.

“So, can you get his opinion?” Thomas asks.

I stiffen at the idea of seeking Hunter out. “Can’t you ask him?”

“No way,” Thomas says, cringing. “I’m not talking to the might-be-a-vampire dude.”

“He’s not a vampire,” I groan. “Kyle already said they aren’t real.”

Chase leans in conspiratorially. “But if wolf people are real, then it begs the question, right?”

“Don’t call them ‘wolf people,’ ” I chide.

Especially since I’m apparently one of them.

I wince. Definitely still not ready for that discussion. Especially after the whole begging-for-sex fiasco.

“You know Hunter is a shifter, right?”

Thomas’s brows raise. “Really?”

“Yes,” I tell them. “Jeannie too.”

“Wow, that’s so cool. I wonder if he’d shift for me,” Chase says.

“Please do not ask him to do that for you,” I groan.

Kyle shoots me a look. “Wait, how do you know this?”

I feel my neck heat. “It came up in conversation when we were talking about accommodations.”

“Ah.” Chase bobs his head. “Makes sense.”

“Anyway.” Thomas waves two sample cards at me, fluttering his lashes. “You’re the boss, right? Go do boss things.”

“ Fine .”

I snatch the cards from him, grumbling under my breath as I dust off my jeans. The last thing I need is to talk about wood stain with the guy I tried to not quite dry hump. I catch a glimpse of myself in an old mirror hanging outside the great room, frowning when I notice the state of my hair. My bangs are sticking straight up again; I tell myself at least once a day to stop running my fingers through them, but it’s a futile effort. I do my best to straighten them before catching myself, realizing that it’s silly to try to make myself presentable for Hunter. Especially after I gave him that whole speech about keeping things professional.

Hunter isn’t in the entryway, dining room, or kitchen—although Jeannie is in the latter and informs me that a little while earlier she saw him through the window that looks out onto the back deck. I shrug into my new coat before I step outside; Hunter was definitely right, my old one was not up to the task of Colorado air in October.

I don’t see Hunter at first. A quick scan of the grounds beyond the deck shows that the place is entirely empty, and I frown at the undisturbed snow, wondering where he might have gone off to. There’s an empty hot tub back here and a few deck chairs, but it’s the lump of cloth a few feet away that catches my attention.

I know that plaid.

I step over to the bundle and toe it gently, noting a pair of jeans, a flannel shirt, and some boots.

Are these Hunter’s clothes ? What the hell?

I turn my head this way and that again to try to spot him, but just like before, there’s no sign of him. Did he really run off into the woods without his clothes? Why on earth would he do that? Could he be—

A rustling in the tree line catches my eye, and I squint at the blinding layer of white that sparkles under the sun. The bushes shake like something might be moving through them—a rabbit maybe? But no, this seems bigger.

And it seems like it’s coming this way.

I take two steps back with the intention of scuttling inside; I’m not equipped to meet the local wildlife, and I’ve heard too many horror stories about bears to take any chances.

Before I can get even halfway to the door, the bushes part in a flurry, something large and gray hurtling over the snow with purpose. I squint as it gets closer, and it takes a few seconds to make out what exactly is currently barreling toward the deck I’m occupying, but when I do, a gasp escapes me.

Because it’s a very large, very fast wolf that’s bounding in my direction.

My first instinct is to scream, to run maybe, but then I remember where I am and who I’m currently staying with. Surely that isn’t…It can’t be—

I’m so busy ruminating that I completely forget to try to escape, and by the time the thought occurs to me, the wolf is trotting up the steps to the deck like he owns the place, casting me a glance that feels too human, too aware .

He sits on his haunches and tilts his head as he looks at me, and I can imagine for just a second that there’s a sparkle of amusement in his eyes. He gives a short yip before bending to nose the pile of clothes on the deck, then straightens to look at me again pointedly.

My brow furrows. “Hunter?”

He yips again, placing his paw on the pile of clothes to draw attention to it once more.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to say,” I tell him.

A low rumble sounds in the wolf’s chest, and he does something with his eyes that looks suspiciously like a roll, and then, before my very eyes, the wolf starts to change, his fur receding and his bones twisting until, in a flash, Hunter stands before me.

And he’s utterly naked.

I stare with an open mouth for a total of three seconds before I realize what I’m doing—carefully avoiding anything below the belt—finally spinning on my heel as quickly as possible while my cheeks flush with heat.

“You could have warned me,” I squeak.

I hear his low chuckle followed by the rustling of clothes. “I tried.”

“You could have tried harder .”

“Yeah, well. It’s cold out here.”

I wait until I no longer hear the sound of him dressing, even waiting for him to clear his throat before turning around.

I blink back at him as I try to make sense of what I just saw; I’ve always known in theory what happens when a shifter changes, but since Ada rarely stays in her other form for very long—let alone lets me watch her shift—it’s not something I’ve ever experienced in person.

“Does that…hurt?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “No.” He purses his lips. “Maybe in the beginning? But you get used to it.”

I can feel myself frowning, suddenly filled with fear at the idea of that happening to me, because in the midst of all the chaos this week, I haven’t given much thought to that element of things. But that’s going to happen to me, right? The thought suddenly fills me with panic, because what if it does hurt? I mean, how on earth could my body change that way?

“That hasn’t…” Hunter must notice the sudden wariness on my face, because his expression turns to one of concern. “That hasn’t happened to you yet?”

I shake my head vehemently. “No.”

“Fuck.” He crosses his arms over his wide chest, the flannel of his shirt straining with the effort. “Are you nervous? Have there been any signs?”

Of course I’m nervous , I don’t say, not wanting to appear as vulnerable as I feel.

“How would I even know what signs there might be?”

His brow furrows. “I guess that’s fair.”

Silence passes between us, both of us no doubt realizing this is the first time either has spoken directly to the other since the Incident.

“Were you looking for me?”

My eyes snap up to meet his. “Hmm? Oh. Yes. Sorry.” I hold up the two sample cards on either side of my face. “I need an opinion on stain.”

“Stain,” he echoes.

“For the new mantel. We brought a couple of options but wanted to let you have the final say.”

He frowns, stepping closer. When his hand reaches out to let his thumb brush against my cheek, I suck in a breath, holding it in my chest as he swipes at something on my face.

“You had a little dust there,” he explains.

I let the breath out through my nostrils, trying to look unaffected. The scent of him seems so much sharper now, making my heart beat faster. Like just being in his presence is enough to make my body wake up.

I clear my throat, shaking the cards that I’m still holding on either side of my face. “So…stain?”

He eyes each card, finally reaching to pluck one from my hand. “This one, I think.”

“Good choice,” I say, my voice a little too high.

He just… smells so good. It’s making me dizzy.

He fiddles with the card as he looks at his shoes, his expression carefully blank.

“So…how have you been feeling?”

I blink back at him, taking a second to ascertain his meaning because his scent makes my head feel all floaty. “What?” I snort. “You mean have I tried to maul anyone else for sex lately?”

“No,” he says with a frown. “I meant, ‘How are you feeling?’ ”

“Oh.” Well, now I feel like a dick. I shuffle my weight from one foot to the other. “Fine, mostly. I’ve had some weird symptoms, but nothing like…that.”

He nods. “Good.”

“Good?”

“I imagine it’s scary,” he says. “What you’re going through. So it’s good you aren’t having anything too wild happen.”

Not again , I’m sure he’s thinking

“For now, at least,” I mutter.

I immediately regret it, because his eyes widen a little, no doubt thinking of the last time something “wild” happened.

I can smell how fucking wet you are.

I clear my throat again, pushing those thoughts aside. “Anyway, good choice on the stain. I’ll tell my brothers.”

I’m turning around to escape when his voice stops me.

“Tess.”

I turn slightly, looking back at him. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

I pause, tilting my head. “What for?”

“For…being so harsh with you the other day,” he says. “It’s been eating at me. I know it isn’t your fault, I do, it’s just…I’ve had bad experiences in the past. With omegas. I know that’s not your fault either, though I reckon that’s why I acted like an ass about it.” He rubs at the back of his neck, nudging his beanie he’s wearing a little and making it sit slightly off-kilter. “My alpha has been…restless. I know we barely know each other, but that doesn’t change what we are or that I’ve been worried about you. I don’t want you to think you have to go out of your way to avoid me.”

Ah, so he noticed. Great.

“Your…alpha?”

“It’s hard to explain,” he says. “It’s like there’s this wilder side to me. Almost like my wolf runs the show sometimes.”

“Will that happen to me?”

“Probably,” he tells me. “After you come into it more, I imagine. Anyway…Again. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I say after a beat. And, weirdly, I mean it. “It’s actually a relief to know that I’m not the only one losing it because of some hormonal bullshit.”

He chuckles softly, the low sound enough to warm me from even a few feet away. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “You’ve really dealt with this before?”

He looks aggravated, like maybe he said more than he meant to, but nods heavily. “Like I said…you’re not the first omega I’ve met.”

Wow. The pure shock of something that feels dangerously like jealousy coursing through me is powerful and potent. And ridiculous. Definitely ridiculous.

He heaves a sigh as he goes on. “What we are…it’s like we’re designed to be drawn to each other. The more time we spend together…like that —the more we’ll want it. It’s just our nature. It’s not… you that I’m wary of, Tess. It’s the situation. I’ve played this game before and lost. But I want to help you if I can.” His brows shoot up as he realizes what he’s said. “With questions, I mean. If you have any. If I can answer them.”

“Well, I mean…that’s good, I guess.” My lips part as I shake my head. “For me , at least,” I correct, laughing awkwardly. “I’d definitely love to be able to ask questions if they come up.”

“Of course,” he says. “Anything you need.”

It’s a foreign sensation for me, the possibility of needing someone, and I don’t know what to make of it. Normally, it might irritate me, the thought of having to rely on someone, but for some reason, with Hunter, it just…doesn’t. Is that what he was talking about? Is that just what we are?

Anything you need.

All I can do is hope that it doesn’t come down to me needing his dick again, because will I really be strong enough to not go to him next time? I don’t know if I can survive another embarrassment like that.

“I appreciate it,” I tell him. “Really.”

He shoves his hands in his pockets, offering me a thin smile. “No problem.”

“And…I guess I should actually say thank you.”

He cocks his head. “Thank you?”

“For…” My cheeks heat. “For helping me. For being the good guy. You could have really taken advantage of me that night, but you didn’t. And now that I know you’ve had bad experiences with people like me…Well. Thank you.”

“Oh…” He rubs at his neck, shifting his eyes to his feet. “It was no problem.”

And right there on the tip of my tongue are questions about the omega he knew—what she was like, how they met—all sorts of things that aren’t my business to ask or even to think , but they’re waiting there anyway.

I open my mouth, not even sure what’s about to come out of it, but thankfully, Chase saves me.

“Yo, Tess!”

I turn to my brother. “Yeah?”

“Can you come look at this? I need your eyes.”

“Be right there,” I say.

He goes back inside, leaving me alone with Hunter again.

“Well,” I say. “I guess I’d better get back to work.”

“Lots of fixin’ to do,” he answers with a wry smile.

I match it with one of my own. “Lots.”

I leave him there, feeling better than I did before I found him. Maybe we can put the weirdness behind us. It’s only hormones, after all. It’s not like it meant something. Provided my body behaves, maybe the rest of my time here will go by smoothly. Maybe Hunter and I can even be friends.

Flashes of his naked chest flit through my thoughts, from the defined muscles to the thick fur there that shouldn’t be as appealing as it is.

Friends , I remind my stupid, horny brain. Just friends.