Little Wolf (18 page)

“Riffraff. You could do better.” He sniffed again, catching more of the bruised taste on his tongue this time, and underneath that the firewood-and-snow scent of Nathaniel, burning ever hotter. He abruptly became aware of what he had just said and done. “Fuck. Think they’re going to kick my ass later?” he asked Nathaniel. “And oh, oh my God. I… I cockblocked you.” Saying it gave him the same feeling of satisfaction, which was worse. He covered his mouth and wondered if he could get away with saying sorry when he wasn’t. Nathaniel’s mood wasn’t going to improve if Tim lied. Maybe that was why more truth slipped out. “I really don’t understand why my uncle didn’t want me to know about all this. I don’t think I’d be such a wreck if I’d ever gotten—”

“Practice?” Nathaniel interrupted and clenched his jaw. He took his eyes off Tim and stared at the new rack of postcards. “Do you want practice?” His eyes were bright again when he looked back at Tim. “With Albert?”

The other night, after pizza, Nathaniel had petted Tim again, his fingertips light against Tim’s throat. Tim was still touching himself to the memory. Nathaniel could probably smell it on him at that moment. Which was why his words made no sense.

Tim hadn’t thought Nathaniel’s voice could get that quiet with his gaze so fierce. He blinked and stepped forward, but then suddenly Robin’s Egg was shoving him toward the door.

“Long day and no need to keep him here, so if you two want to head out early, feel free,” she was saying, practically throwing Tim’s sweatshirt at him. She was speaking softly too, distractingly calming. Tim didn’t think he and Nathaniel had raised their voices, but they must have, because they had attracted some attention. He had been upsetting the sheriff again, and in this town, the sheriff’s business was everyone’s business. The entire city council had come into the café and was now studying the two of them with interest.

Tim snatched his sweatshirt, put it on, then threw his hands in the air.

“I give up. I am a failure of a werewolf, and this town is crazy,” he announced and marched the rest of the way to the door. “Not a single person here makes any sense,” he told the first person he saw, who looked at him and then at Nathaniel and immediately took off in another direction. Tim kept moving. Part of him hoped Luca found them at that exact moment, because Tim felt like punching an alpha wolf in the face for reasons he was choosing not to examine.

Nathaniel’s heat was close at his back. Tim rounded on him to get another good look at those classically ferocious were eyes. They seemed especially intense at the moment. “I’m hungry,” he said instead of what he’d been going to say. It was about two in the afternoon, and he wanted dinner. He’d eaten lunch not too long ago, yet he was
starving
. “Why are you here so early?” Nathaniel was in uniform, because of course the price of being king was he never got time off. Even now, pissed and upset about whatever, Nathaniel was scanning the street around them, keeping an eye out for anyone suspicious who might threaten Tim.

But Tim wouldn’t look away, and after a while Nathaniel’s gaze returned to him and stayed there. Staring into Nathaniel’s eyes was a mistake, like standing too close to him. It was enough to make Tim remember Nathaniel touching him and to think things that got him in trouble. He threw his hands up again to cut the tension.

Nathaniel blinked and seemed to remember he should say something. “I had a meeting this morning. It’s over, so my day is free. I was going to ask what time you wanted a ride home, or if you wanted me to get dinner.”

Tim froze, once again on his toes and staring into Nathaniel’s face. Nathaniel was accommodating him too much, and he wouldn’t admit that he was, or why. “Just like that you answer me?”

“You asked.” Nathaniel was pointed, even with a soft, dangerous voice. “Anything
else
you want to ask me?”

“Are you mad that I asked Carl and Albert questions instead of you?” Tim didn’t believe it, but Nathaniel angled his head down to glare at him. It was honestly… it was so… it was scary. And hot. Scary hot. Tim’s knees felt like water.

Neither fight nor flight seemed feasible, but Tim felt his hands curl at his sides, felt the itch and ache of a shift waiting to happen. As embarrassing as that was, at least Nathaniel also had wolf’s eyes at the moment, which meant adrenaline was flooding his system as well. Nathaniel was as close to losing control as Tim had ever seen.

“You
are
mad at me,” Tim gasped out as he realized it, then spent a dizzy moment trying to process that. Nathaniel’s posture stiffened, confirming it. Tim couldn’t believe it. “You’re butthurt because I asked them something and not you, you big baby.”

It was like Tim felt the need to court death every once in a while. He gulped right as Nathaniel raised his head again.

“Butthurt?” Nathaniel asked, in the blankest voice of all time, because not too many people would probably say that word to his face, much less accuse him of wounded feelings. Put like that, it did sound juvenile. Nathaniel wasn’t going to care where Tim got his answers from. Yet Nathaniel did not look any calmer. “Big baby?”

Soothing nurturer of egos Tim was not. “Supercontrolling alpha sheriff?” he responded faintly, since that was moderately less insulting. Sort of. He glanced around, but no one was coming after him with pitchforks, although they
were
watching. He didn’t think Robin’s Egg had cleared them out of the café so they could snarl at each other in front of it. “Are we having a fight?” Tim shut down his rushing thoughts and gave Nathaniel a puzzled look. “We are, aren’t we? We’re fighting.” No one had ever fought with Tim. Debated, yes, challenged to chess, beat up, but never a toe-to-toe argument.

“No.” Nathaniel crossed his arms. “No, we’re not.”

“Yeah, we are.” Tim rocked back onto his heels.

“What?” Nathaniel was less like a statue now. There was color along his cheekbones, and some of the intensity was gone from his eyes.

“I called you a baby, and you didn’t rip my head off.” Tim was still confused, but one thing at least was becoming very clear.

Nathaniel let out a human-sounding growl of frustration. It was kind of comforting, even if he didn’t think anyone else would think so. People expected their leaders to know everything, always. Tim had fallen into that trap too, even knowing better from his years with his uncle. But Nathaniel was trying to get to know Tim, and every time he had tried so far, Tim had backed off, or called him a name, or accused him of something horrible.

“Rip your head off?” Nathaniel repeated incredulously, loud enough to clear the street in their immediate area. “For the last time, I’m not going to—”

Tim interrupted him with a wave. He couldn’t stop staring. “Figuratively,” Tim blurted as his body shook, easing back to normal, or what passed for normal around Nathaniel. Nathaniel seemed like he needed more to go on, as though he was a wolf close to going on a rampage if Tim didn’t start making sense. “You didn’t rip my head off—figuratively,” Tim explained. The idea that Nathaniel would attack him hadn’t even crossed his mind as he’d been snapping at him and getting in his face. He’d been annoyed, but he hadn’t run, because he hadn’t thought a fight was really going to happen. Nathaniel was furious, but Tim was not in fear for his life. If anything he was fascinated, and slightly amused.

“Even when I said you were butthurt,” Tim realized quietly. “And oh… I suppose I should say I’m sorry about that.” Nathaniel looked like he didn’t know what butthurt meant but knew it wasn’t a compliment. He scowled. Tim’s heart thumped uncomfortably. His face felt hot. He didn’t think it was an instinctive reaction this time, just embarrassment. “About the question thing—”

“You can ask whoever you want, whatever you want.” Nathaniel was going to crack a tooth if he kept clenching his jaw like that. “Whoever you feel
comfortable
with.” Tim didn’t think anyone had ever sounded less comfortable saying the word comfortable. One of these days, Tim was going to sit down and examine every one of Nathaniel’s mingling scents and determine what each one meant, even if it took him fifty years.

“At least you recognize that there is no way I can ask
you
sex questions.” He ignored the sudden shift in Nathaniel’s stance, how close he already was and how much closer Tim wanted him to get. “Asking Carl is desperate, I admit, but I found a book too.”

“Carl?” Nathaniel released a long breath. “Carl,” he said again, to himself, then gave Tim a measuring glance. “Albert likes you. But….” Nathaniel uncrossed his arms to bump his fist against his thigh and sighed again. “You can still ask me. Even the sex questions. I can handle it. I’ll….” He took a long breath. “I can handle it.”

Tim had no idea what Nathaniel thought he had to handle. Probably Tim’s urges to jump his bones.

“Normally it isn’t this difficult, is it?” Tim frowned at Nathaniel’s patience and his own ignorance. He didn’t understand why his uncle wouldn’t have let him meet other weres his age; even to protect him it made no sense. If anything the lack of knowledge made Tim more vulnerable. Tim was too old for someone like Nathaniel to have to give him, as humans called it, the birds and the bees speech.

“I think it’s always this difficult, but don’t quote me.” Nathaniel cleared his throat and gave Tim a burning stare. He looked so sexily disheveled that Tim bit his lip to keep from commenting, then gave up.

“What problems could
you
possibly have in the romance department?” He was trying to be funny, but his mouth went dry when Nathaniel scraped a hand through his hair. Even the man’s frustration was hot.

“At the moment, I can’t even get a date,” Nathaniel snarled at him. When he tried to smooth his collar, he got more rumpled. Come to think of it, Nathaniel was not at all the put-together figure he’d been when Tim had met him. He looked harried and tired and ever so slightly thinner. It must have been the craziness that accompanied the festivals.

“Poor Sheriff, only wanted for your body,” Tim remarked with more sympathy than he’d meant to reveal, though he stared hard at the people on the street around them in the next second. If what Tim was starting to get from customers was even a fraction of what Nathaniel got, it was no wonder Nathaniel was a tragic princess about all his fans. It was a lot of leering and very little conversation that wasn’t about directions to the nearest hotel/bed/available flat surface. And it seemed they didn’t even bother with dates first.

“You want more than that?” Tim swung his gaze back to Nathaniel. Nathaniel didn’t have to nod for Tim to know it was true. “You do, don’t you?” Maybe that was what the whole “waiting for a mate” business was about. Nathaniel was waiting for someone who understood him, or at least wanted to try to understand him. Tim blushed to think of calling Nathaniel a sex god and making fun of him for being unhappy. Nathaniel was the town’s fantasy as much as Blake was the fantasy of thousands of human soap opera viewers.

Nathaniel wanted someone who wouldn’t see him as their leader or a romance novel cover, someone who didn’t need to be rescued or protected all the time, and who wouldn’t leave after a few weeks or months in town. That was probably what a mate was, someone who understood, someone for you, who’d stay, who would support you instead of only wanting stuff from you.

Tim tried not to feel like someone had taken something from him, like Nathaniel was waiting for the right person to come along so he could propose that very second. Obviously Nathaniel was never going to propose to Tim, but Tim couldn’t help thinking that if Nathaniel was looking for his perfect wolf mate, he should have told Tim. Tim’s crush was so blatant. Nathaniel should have been nice and prepared him, so Tim could anticipate someday walking in to see Nathaniel with some
asshole’s
hand on his arm.

Tim crossed his arms and dropped his chin. “I’m not hungry anymore.”

“You were starving a second ago.” Nathaniel made another human noise, confused and fed up. Tim shrugged, because the answer was too ridiculous to say out loud. He was upset about losing something he’d never had and never would have. Nathaniel reached over and startled Tim by flicking his shoulder. “Now who’s being a baby?”

“I found your flaw and I hate it. You annoy me greatly.” Tim bared his teeth at him, just because. No one understood his pain.

“Is this what being butthurt is?” Nathaniel gave him a bland look.

Tim was not amused. “Your flaw is that you don’t stop when you should. I get it now.” He pointed at Nathaniel. “This is why no one goes on dates with you. No one likes a tragic princess.”

“Tragic princess?” Nathaniel gaped at him for a moment. “First of all, the way you toss around certain phrases leads me to believe you’ve never been around a strong feminine presence, or any feminine presence for that matter. And secondly, I’d be offended at being called tragic if I knew that wasn’t probably the hunger talking. I have never met anyone who turned into such a beast when they were hungry.”

“I thought you came here to see me and go get food, not flatter me to death,” Tim responded snippily, then thought it was no wonder that he wasn’t Nathaniel’s mate. He was about as mature as Albert. “You sure you can’t get a date? You’re so suave.”

Nathaniel rolled his eyes, but Tim was pretty sure he was amused at being called a princess, not insulted as Luca would have been. Tim didn’t know how to feel about that. He’d never noticed that many of his insults had been learned from Luca, but Nathaniel had, and had called him on it. It was petty to be upset that Nathaniel had seen what Tim hadn’t. Nonetheless, Tim was.

“Can’t I get you food
and
flatter you to death?” Nathaniel sounded exasperated. “Either way, at least you’ll stop talking.”

Tim wavered. He didn’t want to hear any more about what Nathaniel was looking for in a life partner, and he had to eat sometime, and he was gone enough to want to eat while sitting across from Nathaniel. The knowledge that everyone in town lusting after the sheriff would be jealous to see him with Nathaniel was a bonus.