Drew ran his hand down her back. “I was younger, but I remember parts of it. My parents were lost in the first wave of trouble, only a couple of years earlier.”
Hugging him tight, she took a moment to appreciate just how very good it felt to lie with him, to discuss their day. She couldn’t imagine being this comfortable with anyone else. “Drew?”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you for getting the cats.” For following her orders no matter the possessive drive that had to be pushing him close to insanity these days.
“That’s okay.” He rubbed the back of her neck. “I’ve decided to kill Riaz later, when you’re not watching.”
Sitting up, she looked into his eyes. “I want you to know something.”
“So serious.” He brushed strands of hair off her face. “Tell me.”
“If I am ever talking out of my ass, I fully expect you to call me on it.”
“Don’t worry about that, Lieutenant.” He tapped her bottom. “I’ll never let things slide.” A more sober look. “But any arguing we do on pack issues won’t be in front of others.”
She knew that would be hard on him, predatory changeling male that he was. But the past weeks had shown her the staggering depth of his will. He’d bite his tongue until it bled, but he would never again diminish her in public—and would certainly never fail to back her up when she needed it, like Martin so often did with Adria.
And that, she decided with absolute finality, would be the last time she ever compared her man to her aunt’s. Because Drew was a thousand times the man, the wolf, that Martin was. “I thought there was cake,” she said, tracing his lip with her fingertip.
He nipped at her. “I would never lie to you about cake.”
Nibbling at that pretty mouth, she said, “Yeah?”
He groaned. “In the cooler. But—”
Laughing, she pushed off him. “Let me replenish my energy first. You boy toys are exhausting.”
“Toys?” he growled.
She winked at him as she jumped off the bed. “I, of course, am only interested in my own personal boy toy.”
“That’s better,” he said, stealing a kiss as he got out, too, and walked—gloriously nude—to the cooler.
“Have you no shame?” She tried her best to sound scandalized, difficult when the only thing she wanted to do was lick him all over.
“Nope.”
Not as ready to eat naked, she went to Drew’s dresser to pull out a T-shirt. “Since somebody tore mine.” Her glare had no effect on the gorgeous man who was currently chugging down milk straight from the carton.
Wiping his mouth, he put down the milk and crooked a finger. “Come ’ere.”
“I don’t know that I—” Hand on a T-shirt, she frowned. “What’s this?”
Drew was suddenly beside her, trying to shut the drawer. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just—”
But she’d already pulled out the raggedy soft toy. It was a bear, probably once a plush brown but now sadly bedraggled, most of its fur gone, one eye missing, and the ears nibbled half-off. Definitely in rough shape, but not uncared for, she realized, noticing the neat stitches that had mended the tears.
Aware Drew had gone silent beside her, she glanced up. And for the first time in her life, she saw a mask on Drew’s face. It hit her like a punch to the gut.
CHAPTER 41
“I’m sorry,” she said, certain she’d hurt him in some terrible way. “I didn’t mean to—”
Drew’s hand slipped behind her neck to tug her to his chest. “Shh.” The warmth had returned to his voice, the tone husky. “I just wasn’t ready.”
“It’s okay.” She stroked his back with her free hand, the bear between them. “We’ll put it back until you are.” It hurt her to know that he was hurting. Really hurt her.
Drew nuzzled at her neck. “No, I think Platypus is probably tired of being in that drawer.”
She blinked. “You have a bear named Platypus?”
A grin as he took the bear from her and ran his hands affectionately over the chewed-off ears. “Hey, I was a kid. How was I supposed to know what a platypus was?” Walking to the bed, he sat down, tugging the sheet across just enough to cover the most distracting part of him. “Come, sit.”
Pulling on the T-shirt, she went to sit beside him, her legs curled under her. Still uncertain what she’d inadvertently done, she put one hand on his shoulder, pressing her body a little against his. “He was yours?”
“When I was small.”
She saw him swallow, remembered how young he’d been when he’d lost both parents. Her own throat grew choked. “You were a feral little thing, weren’t you?” she said past the knot of emotion, tugging at the bear’s abbreviated ears.
Drew gave a small laugh, and the tightness in her chest relaxed. Her wolf didn’t like seeing him in distress.
“My mom gave Platty to me.” He brought the bear up to his nose, drew in a long breath. “Sometimes, I think I can scent her perfume if I try hard enough.”